While I could do without the emotionalism of 9/11 remembrances 25 years on, I have found that I'm endlessly fascinated with people's stories of where they were that day. EVERYONE remembers. I've yet to meet a single person (of remembering age) who doesn't remember basically that entire day. Whenever the topic comes up, I always ask what that person remembers about that day and it's always interesting to me. Somewhat ironically, 9/11 remembrance is also the reason I first felt like an old man...I was asking a couple of co-workers a few years ago about 9/11 and they didn't have any memories...because they were either infants or not born yet.
I remember that day as well - vividly. I was a senior in high school, sitting in what was called "Homeroom"; it was a short period during the morning where we would work on college applications or catch up on homework, etc. At the end of that period the principal would come on over the loudspeaker and make their announcements for the day. On that day, at the end of those remarks, they mentioned that a plane at hit the World Trade Center in New York and it wasn't yet known what was happening. That, of course, caught everyone's attention. As I walked out of that class, which on the second floor of the high school, I passed by the library, the entrance of which was flanked by two glass book cases, each of which had a television inside of it. The TVs were on and they were tuned to the news coverage that morning and that was when I first saw the towers on fire.
For the next couple of hours, rather than try and teach us their normal material, the teachers all wheeled in televisions and we watched the coverage of the event. Eventually, the school gave up on even that, telling everyone that if we wanted, we could go to the cafeteria and watch together there, or we could go home. I basically spent the rest of the school day watching the coverage in the cafeteria. Of course by this time, all of the air traffic in the United States had been grounded, we had learned of two more planes being hijacked, and there was no doubt in anyone's mind that this was anything other than a terrorist attack.
When I got home from school, we had to jerry-rig a set of antenna for the little TV we had (we didn't have TV in the house when I was growing up) so that we could continue to watch the coverage. It was the only thing we all wanted to do that day...to watch what was unfolding. In the evening, there was a prayer vigil at our church and so we attended that and while there was a heaviness to everything, there was also already an incredible coming together. I'll never forget the palpable patriotism of the days and weeks following 9/11. I still get chills when I hear President Bush's speech from Ground Zero, or watch a video of him throwing out the first pitch (a strike) during Game 3 of the World Series.
On the 1-year anniversary of 9/11, I was in my freshman year of college in the Midwest and one of the heroes of 9/11 was an alumnus of the school I was attending. His wife spoke that day and I was in the orchestra as we played Samuel Barber's "Adagio for Strings", and all of us musicians and everyone in the audience was crying. It was such an honor to be a part of that moment - I was in the conservatory of music, having played the cello for 10+ years up to that point and that was the most that ever FELT the music.
Anyway, just felt like writing this morning. I am reminded of Ecclesiastes 2:7: "It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, because that is the end of every person, and the living takes it to heart."
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