5

Has it been five years already? The internal scars sometimes still feel fresh. Everybody remembers where they were when it happened – the day this country lost its innocence (or at least the people outside of politics). September 11 – we remember it like we remember birthdays, wedding anniversaries, phone numbers … but we obviously for different reasons.

Hunched over my desk at my previous job, just getting ready to start my day, Debba, a coworker, received a phone call from our boss, saying he would be in a little later – a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Immediately, I checked cnn.com, and began following what I thought was purely an accident. “This had to be a small plane, that lost control,” is what I shrugged it off as. Then, the second one hit. We were under attack. After a few minutes, I could no longer get to cnn.com to follow the situation – too much traffic at that website.

A few coworkers and I searched for a television that had an external cable-hookup – most of the tv’s on campus were strictly part of the school’s internal programming. We made our way to another building that had cable access, and sat down on the couch in the lounge, increasingly shocked as the details were fed to us. I was too numb to cry, I just sat there, watching the towers burn right before my eyes. Could this really be happening? My go, the Pentagon was just hit! What next?

I felt a sense of helplessness seep into me. What can I do? I must be strong for the students. I remember leaning over to Debba and saying, “These buildings are going to fall.” She looked at me in disbelief. How else could this end? Surely, they can’t put the fires out that high up, can they? The buildings crumbled – I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

The call came in – it would be best if we sent the students home and close-down the campus – not that our campus would be a target, but one never knows. As part of the PR staff, I helped prepare for the imminent phone calls from local media. A professor on the campus was very knowledgeable on the Middle East, and some of the history of these radical groups.

On my way home, I began noticing no, through the haze that had formed inside my head, the complete silence – no planes, hardly any cars. Would life change? I remember finally getting in touch with my girlfriend (who is now my wife) after hours of fruitless attempts – the phone lines and cell lines had been clogged. Even though she was working in Philly, I wanted to make sure she was o.k. She was shaken, like I was. I drove downtown to see her that night, and we hung out at a local bar on South Street, trying to ingest all of the news coming through the TV screens. It felt like the longest day in my life.

I had never been through anything like this in my life. I heard stories about Pearl Harbor and the Kennedy assassination – but never imagined my generation having to endure this. I read and watched the turmoil happening in other countries, blindly believing that this could never happen to the mighty U.S. of A. It was an awakening I didn’t want to have.

I always try looking for the bright side of any situation – and found one at the time. Our country began to unite. Everybody was on the same page – and everybody was ready to move forward together. I don’t remember our country ever being that synchronized. I wish that part of it would’ve lasted. I fear some lessons we learned have been forgotten. I fear that we are no longer on the same page, not even the same book. Many people out there will point fingers, but it is not (nor has it ever) about pointing fingers, it is about moving forward … together.

My prayers go out to people who lost loved ones in this tragic day in our country’s history, and my hope goes out that their lives were not sacrificed in vane.

(don’t worry, I’ll be funny again later in the week).