Some of you reading right now remember this day. Some of you are too young to remember. Still some of you had not yet come into being. For my generation, this is the day in history we will Never Forget. This is my story.
19 years ago, today, I dropped my older son, Duncan, off to Kindergarten for only the third day. These were full days, so it was quite a change for this stay-at-home mom. I sat at home with my younger son, Ben, who was soon to be three years old. As I did every morning, I turned on the network’s Morning Show on TV to maintain a sense of normalcy. Little did I know that normalcy had become a thing of the past.
Serious tones and smoke billowing out of a building were the first images I saw. I sat intently in front of the TV. It was chaos, and like everyone else watching – including the news casters – I was trying to figure out what had happened.
“SPECIAL REPORT” streamed across the screen. A plane crash occurred on the Southern tip of Manhattan and as a result the North World Trade Center had been hit, or at least that was the initial news. At 8:52 am, that was still unconfirmed, but there was no doubt the upper floors of the building were on fire as smoke billowed out in a constant plume of thick dark ash. Eyewitnesses called into the networks to share what they had seen. Some of these witnesses were only blocks from the building. For some of these witnesses, their words heard and faces seen on national news would be the last their loved ones would have of them.
One caller thought it was a plane and another thought it was a missile. One street reporter asked an eyewitness what they saw. “Everything was coming out. All the windows were coming out; papers were flying everywhere.”
“Are there any people hurt, do you know?” the reporter asked.
Are there any people hurt…
As the news cameras kept the burning building on the screen, images of a second plane hitting the other tower were broadcast live. This plane hit further down towards the middle of the South tower. Images from every angle showed a plane flying low, turning sharply, and flying into the tower.
Panic was heard on every station.
I grabbed my Ben and held him close. He was a wiggle worm but seemed to understand I needed him near.
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. ~Psalm 46:1
My Nana, who is – at the time of this article – now 101 was at home sleeping. Everyone knows not to call her before Noon. It was only a few minutes after 9:00 in the morning. I called her anyway. At first, she didn’t understand what I was saying, but got out of bed and turned on her TV. “I want to go get Duncan,” I kept saying.
“Honey, there’s nothing that will help by bringing him home from school.”
“I think we’re under attack,” I replied.
“It’s in New York City and seems to be isolated there. Leave him in school.”
We sat on the phone silently watching the news together.
Panic and disbelief flooded the morning news stations. The words “deliberate” and “terrorist act,” sprinkled through the noise on the TV.
“I think we have a terrorist act of proportions no one can begin to imagine,” one newscaster said.
I wanted so desperately to go and get Duncan. Tears streamed down my face. Every essence of my being wanted both of my boys with me.
Nana is a very wise woman. More than a century young, she was born into the Spanish flu pandemic right after WWI, experienced WW2 in her twenties, and was the nurse doctors turned to for advice most of her life. When I have had times in my life where my emotions tried to get the best of me, I turned to her – my earthly rock – for words of wisdom to keep me on the right course. She is the hands and heart of Jesus to me.
So, there I sat clinging to my Nana through the phone.
“An act of terrorism,” “hijacked,” and reminders of a bombing at the World Trade Center grew louder and louder on the television.
Elevators were out in both towers and due to the thick smoke, most were in total darkness. Rescue efforts had begun at both locations. Terrified individuals would walk hundreds, if not more than a thousand steps to the bottom and would run out into the street.
Some individuals were trapped on the upper floors. Intense heat rose into their areas and they broke widows in an attempt to escape the furnace-like heat and suffocating smoke. More than 1,000 feet above ground, lives were moved to hang out of these widows as the lesser of two evils.
The news broke to President George W. Bush who was visiting the Emma E. Booker Elementary School in Sarasota, FL. Students and adults stood behind the President as he revealed live on nation news that this was a terrorist act. After a moment of silence, he quickly left and would be on Air Force One in no time. That plane would end up being the only plane in the sky as more events unfolded.
The picture on the TV changed. The caption at the bottom of the screen read “The Pentagon – Washington, DC.”
“… Let me interrupt you here for a second..,” said Peter Jennings to a witness over the phone, “We now have a fire at the Pentagon.”
My eyes grew wide and Nana spoke only one word – “Go.”
“I love you!” I said as I hung up the phone. I ran out of the house with Ben, jumped into the van, and raced to the school to get Duncan. The school office was somber and the voice of the Principal broke through the quiet saying something like, “they’ll find out when the kids take lunch.” An obviously upset secretary asked what I needed. “I’m here to pick up my son.”
“Why?” she asked in a sharp tone.
“He has a dentist appointment,” were the quickest words I could muster.
“Oh,” she said. “Go ahead.”
I would later learn from Duncan’s teacher that I looked like a ghost when I entered the room. I had so desperately wanted to tell her what was wrong, but all I could say was, “You’ll find out soon.”
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
~Psalm 23:4
That day, thousands lost their lives as a result of four hijacked planes. The fourth plane was taken back by passengers who had heard about the other planes during their flight. Two brave men lead the battle to fight off the terrorist pilots and drove the plane into the ground to save the lives of countless others who would have died had the terrorist plot been completed. “Let’s roll,” became a victor cry.
He heals the brokenhearted and binds of their wounds. ~Psalm 147:3
Nearly two decades after the event my little boys are now grown men. Instead of planes hitting towers, New York City is on high alert for the resurgence of COVID-19 which shut down the city, much like that of September 11, 2001. Instead of arriving at an airport and running in quickly to catch your flight, security and precautions in place necessitate your arrival hours in advance.
At the site of the two towers lie two massive memorials with the names of all the lives lost that day in NYC. Nearby stands one single tower – a beacon of hope, a symbol of resilience, and a message to America’s enemies which implies “You can knock us down, but we’ll get right back up again.”
If you remember this day, share your account. If you were too young to remember, ask someone where they were on this day. I say this not so that we remain living in the past, but so that the words many of us promised that day would remain true and the lives of those who perished and those who rescued would be honored…
Sunshine14616 