I remember September 11, 2001 clearly from the moment I first heard Felicia Middlebrooks on WBBM-780 announce that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I remember thinking it was probably a small plane, an accident. I started to go to the TV to watch the news coverage, but I had to get going or I’d miss my train and be late for work. It was a beautiful, clear, warm sunny day.
And then I arrived at work. I saw the newscasts. I remember, the shock, horror and awe and the whole surrealness of what was happening. I remember thinking that this kind of thing only happens in the movies and surely we were watching a movie, right? Will Smith is going to join forces with everyone and save the day, right? I remember the panic and the fear and the unbelievable quiet in the streets as downtown Chicago seemed to come to a standstill. Then going home and walking through the park and seeing kids out playing basketball and thinking, “Don’t you even realize what’s happening in the world?”
Older people can tell you where they were when they heard about Pearl Harbor, or JFK, King, RFK and Malcolm being assassinated. My first big “where were you” moment was when Ronald Reagen was shot. Then came the Challenger and Columbine and Oklahoma City. But they were nothing like 9/11.
Even after watching “United 93″ and “Flight 93″ on television and all the 9/11 specials on the History Channel, seven years later, it still hits me sometimes in the pit of my stomach: the horror, the loss, the senselessness, the heroism, the sacrifices.
My son was three years from being born. When he’s old enough, he’ll see news footage and archival pictures. He’ll look at 9/11 the way I look at footage from Pearl Harbor and the Civil Rights Movement and the assassinations of the 60’s: it was important and meaningful, but it didn’t impact me in a personal way. I wasn’t there. My son will watch the movies and they will be interesting, but it won’t mean anything to him personally. He won’t understand what it means when I say we’re living in a “post-9/11 world” anymore than I can understand what it means to live in a “post-Pearl Harbor” world.
I will always have those “where were you” days. God-willing, my son will never have them.
May God bless and keep us and grant us peace today and forever.
donnad69
