This September, Bismarck State College and the Dakota Institute of Lewis and Clark Fort Mandan Foundation will host a two-day symposium to observe and examine the effect of the September 11, 2001, attacks on the Heartland of America. The symposium will run September 9 – 11, 2011 on the BSC Campus.
An important part of the upcoming Symposium is a project called 100 Stories: Perspectives from the Heartland. The purpose of this project is to tell the story of how those of us on the Heartland felt that day. What you remember, what stands out to you, and reflections that you will take with you for the rest of your life are important details that we want to preserve for future generations.
Please consider sending us your story and reflection on the 9/11 attacks. We would love to know where you were that day and the experience you had.
If you are interested in submitting but would like more information, please visit the 100 Stories project page.
We look forward to hearing from you!
September 11, 2001 is as vivid in my mind as the day that President Kennedy was shot. One has memories of days and times such as these that never fade.
I had come to work in the BSC Library that morning and had just settled in when Mike McCormack came in to say that his wife had called and an airplane had crashed into the twin towers in New York City and something wasn’t right about it all. Mike had a daughter living in NYC as did Steph Borud, our North Dakota Career and Technical Librarian. Mike knew my son was living there as well so we hurridly found a television where the rest of the library staff joined us to witness the replay of the planes crashing into the towers and ultimately the falling of the towers. The anxiety began to build as none of us could reach our children. It was three hours later that my son Jonathan would be able to get a call into me at work. Our emotions went from frantic anxiety,to fear, to worry and anger to some sort of relief that for now our children were safe, but now what? That evening at home there was a steady stream of phone calls from family and friends, and even the organist at our church calling to enquire about Jon’s safety. People were so thoughtful. It was the beginning of many questions. We remained in daily touch with Jon who was trying to process the situation through his work as a magazine illustrater – some of which was used by the New York Times as illustrations. He had gone to the roof of his building in upper Manhattan in the Washington Heights neighborhood and watched the smoke and ultimately the small jets that would fly overhead to keep watch over the city. He would nervously fly back to North Dakota three weeks later to be a part of Steph Borud’s daughter’s wedding in Bismarck. Those young people needed the calm and quiet of the prairie as much as we needed to see them. I know it changed their lives forever.
I was in choir, and at the end of the period, we would always just sit around the band room. I was sitting on one side of the room with my best friend. I noticed that slowly everyone was moving to a group around our band/ choir teacher. I heard something about the Pentagon and I remember thinking that our teacher was telling some sort of political joke. We walked over in time to hear that someone had flown into the Pentagon and that something was happening with the WTC. In my next class, we heard more about what happened with the Twin Towers and saw the towers collapse. We spent the rest of the day watching coverage. It was highly surreal as I don’t believe any of my classmates had close friends or family members in NYC or DC, so we were very emotionally connected to the events, but we weren’t actually connected in any way to the events.
My time is PST or PDT or PT or Seattle time. I slept late that day, woke up, turned on the TV, was disappointed that a disaster movie was on, turned the channel, same movie, turned the channel, same movie, waited for a commercial, didn’t get one, turned the channel, same movie. I couldn’t believe the same movie was on so many channels. Then I thought, “This must be real.” I did not leave my apartment for five days; once I walked across the parking lot to check my mail box. I took one shower, and changed my clothes once. I cried several times. I telephoned my family in Maryland–all were safe. I survived a severe traumatic brain injury from an uninsured drunk driver in early 1986–I know what trauma is. I also spent 5 1/2 years of my life in Teheran, Iran, and 2 years in Ankara, Turkey, in the 1960s. I am aware of the reasons for the dislike of America, yet Americans are liked. As the days and weeks passed and the culprits were discovered (still up for debate), I wished that Americans could understand just what offenses around the world have been committed in America’s name. This level of aggression is never necessary, and I am sad that so many people were hurt and so many people had to express their hurt with such violence. Violence can be an expression of frustration, as well as hate.
The day started with my son and I eating breakfast. I turned the TV on to check the news right after the first plane crash. My son was watching the burning tower in awe. I noticed a shadow passing on the burning tower and thought there must be another plane heading towards the second tower. A second later the next plane did crash into the tower. Then the reports came in about the pentagon. My son started crying when the first tower fell. He said, ” Tell them to put that building back up right now!” I didn’t have any great explanation to ease his mind.
I dropped my son off at day care and went to my social work job in St. Paul. Everyone at the agency went on alert to head out on crisis interventions as needed. We ended up fielding a constant series of calls from our clients asking, ” What’s going on ? I’m scared, help me! Is the IDS tower burning?” Our team spent most of the day in the field checking on people and following up on crisis calls. I finished the day at the at a hospital ER getting someone admitted to a psych unit after he pulled a knife on several people and threatened to kill them. He thought the planes were after him. It made some sense based on everything else that had happened during the day. He might have been the luckiest guy in town after the nurses administered a heavy dose of haldol to calm him down. I saw him strapped to a gurney in the hall sleeping peacefully after the intake paperwork was finished up. The ER crisis worker stopped me as I was walking out and said, ” Don’t bring anyone else here, we’re out of rooms, gurneys and energy.”
I said, ” Okay by me man.” and went home.
I was at home at my apartment in Indianapolis IN that day and had slept in. Had not turned on the radio or television yet and had no idea what was going on in the outside world. My mother called me up and asked if I was watching the news on tv, and I had no idea what she was talking about. She told me that someone had attacked the WTC and my response was ‘Again?’ as I knew it had been bombed before. Then I turned on the television and realized just how different this attack was from the prior one. I was glued to the television and watched the towers fall and the coverage throughout the day, with a break to go and donate blood. I stood in line for several hours, hundreds of people had shown up at the local blood center to give. This moment and the Challenger disaster will forever be etched in my mind.
I remember vividly what a gorgeous, perfect late summer morning it was. The beauty of that day only adds to the tragedy, in retrospect. I saw the first plane go through the tower and I thought it was perhaps some horrible accident. When the second plane went through, I knew it was purposeful. As the day wore on, I felt myself growing more afraid and mostly angry, and I wasn’t comfortable with those feelings. I knew what was going to happen: more people were going to die in the months and years ahead. I couldn’t sleep at all the night following. I was thinking about the firefighters, the police, the jumpers, the people inside the buildings. Ten years later, I’m still thinking of them.
My wife, Diane, and I were on a wonderful cruise to Alaska and the morning of 9/11/01 we were anchored in the Hubbard Glacier field and it was a bright, beautiful, and awesome morning. As we watched the calving of the glaciers a older man came running by to tell some friends about the planes crashing into the twin towers. We were stunned and then spent the next several hours waatching the events unfold on a little TV in our stateroom. There were some people who were on the ship who had family or friendds in New York who were understandably frantic trying to get additional information and trying to contact them but cell phones had little, if any, reception at the location where we were anchored. The Cruise line immediately announced that the Captain was confering with the company executives to determine if the cruise should end and return immediately to Vancouver which is where the cruise started and was to end. Several hours later the Captain announced that since no airlines were going to be allowed to fly in the US it would not help to end the cruise. The Captain further announced that they would assist anyone who had family or friends in the New York area try to contact them on the ships communication devices. Several ministers on board then agreed to arrange a memorial service to be held in the ships theatre the next morning. It was a beautiful memorial service and all the ships entertainers also participated in the service. When we returned to Vancouver on Friday at the end of the cruise it took quite awhile to disembark from the ship. Since planes were still not allowed to fly in the US we needed to find another way to get back to North Dakota. We took a cab to the airport and went looking for a rental car. The airport was desserted so there was no line for a rental and we got one which we agreed to drive to the Airport in Seattle and then exchange for another rental to drive back to North Dakota. The rental car company said they would waive any drop charge under the circumstances. We found our rental car and headed for the border. When we neared the border we found cars lined up in 3 rows with each row at least a mile long. The authorities were runiing dogs by every vehicle in line and then when you got to the check point they would open all doors and trunks and remove the suitcases and either open them and inspect or have a dog come by the suit case. It took us 7 hours to get through the border. Interestingly, despite the long delay and the large number of people in line no one seemed distrurbed about either the inspections or the delay in the crossing. Also a number of the local Canadians were mingling with those of us in line and brought drinks and other goodies for us while we waited. Once we got through the border we headed for Seattle and exchanged cars about 3:00 AM and then drove out of Seattle because we did not want to stay in a large metro area. We finally stopped and found a motel about 5 in the morning and tried to get some sleep. We drove home to Bismarck in two days. The cruise line, the car rental people, and the airlines were all very accomodating. The whole experience was surreal as in Vancouver, at the border, in Seattle and in every town we stopped in as we drove home the people we spoke with were stunned at the event and everyone wondered what would happen worldwide as a result of the insane act of flying 2 planes into the twin towers and killing thousands of people.
It was mid afternoon in “the city of towers”, San Gimignano, Italy. I was leading a group of 16 on a Food and Wine tour and we arrived after a glorious morning with winery visits and a hosted lunch. We could not have been more bouyant as we split up in pairs and explored the city. In the upper part of town, where one can explore the ancient towers, there was a street artist talking earnestly on his phone. My friend and I were admiring his drawings and he said urgently to us, “Where are you from? Are you American?” When we said yes, he told us he had been speaking to his girlfriend in New York and he said a plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers. Although we didn’t quite believe him, as we looked over the parapet to the town square, we began to see people bunching up and talking with animated seriousness. We went to a hotel nearby to see if they had a TV, and the front desk people were watching the news right there. They took us around the desk to watch, in horror, with them as events unfolded. We made our way back to the rendezvous point and little by little, the couples returned. Each had a story of how passersby, shopkeepers, or priests, had stopped them, brought them to a place to view a television, and wept with them. We were unable to return to the US, so we continued our tour. Everywhere we went, people came up to us, hugged us, cried with us, and treated us with amazing tenderness. We were anxious being away from home and loved ones, but we were grateful to have escaped the immersion in the terror that permeated the ensuing days over here.
My friend Phil Mihalsky had been invited to be a guest chef at the famed James Beard Award Dinner in NYC on September 11, 2011. This singular honor requires a huge expense for the chef: paying the travel expenses for his assistants, purchasing high end ingredients, and tremendous prep work.
Phil was just getting started with his preparations when the first plane hit. He was outside looking toward the wreckage when the second plane hit. Naturally it was soon apparent that the dinner would not go on, so Phil and his team went ahead and cooked up their marvelous food and served it to the first responders and other volunteers as long as they were able.
I was in the sixth grade on September 11, 2001, and I remember the morning starting as always: my class was on the playground before school simply enjoying another half hour of play before the classes must start. When the recess was over, we all filed into our classroom, ready to start the morning routines as always, and were delighted to see that the television was on! We all sat down chattering about getting to watch TV right away in the morning, but our teacher quickly silenced us. It was on a commercial break, and she calmly explained to us that something bad had happened in New York City. At this time, only the first tower had been struck, and through the mass chaos, no one yet knew exactly what was going on. She told us we were going to keep watching so that we knew what was going on, but to go about our morning routines as normally as possible while the news kept running in the background.
I specifically remember my assigned morning routine that day was to be the “class journalist,” whose job it was to write about the morning. I would love to go back and read the reaction my sixth grade self had to this tragedy, and I would be willing to bet my sixth grade teacher might still have that journal entry. I do remember this though: I wrote with shock. The most shock I had ever experienced in the first eleven years of my life. And as the events rolled on, the next tower fell, the pentagon struck, another plane crashed, the shock only grew…the rest of the recesses that day were not quite the same.
On that morning, I left my office at the Naval Academy to apply for my marriage license at the Annapolis Court House. While waiting to file the proper paperwork, everyone was evacuated and then let back into the building after going through a security screening. At that time, no one really knew what was happening but by the time I left with my application complete, it was clear what was going on. I called back to my office and the school was locked down and everyone was sent home. Then like most Americans, I was glued to the TV for the rest of the night.
Next day I got up really early to get onto the Naval Academy campus; at 5:30 AM it took 60 minutes to get through security. As I waited, was trying to collect my thoughts on how to teach my two classes for the day. I had my own concerns of “would I be sent abroad immediately to a ship to fight” and “was I really trained to lead Sailors into combat and do bad things to bad people?” Obviously, I did not teach the assigned lesson but I lead a discussion about the Midshipmen’s feelings. These 20 year old men and women expressed a range of emotions from fear, hate, and aggressiveness, but strangely all were excited to go off and fight! They wanted to be first on the front lines and they couldn’t wait to finish their last two years to get their commission. Ironically, it was these men and women that were on the front lines of Iraq as brand new junior officers. Ten year later, these same men and women are part of generation of hardened combat troops and many have seen things that no one should ever have to view.
My initial concerns turned into reality, I did leave my tour teaching at the Naval Academy to go fight the Iraq War and it turned out I did have what it takes to lead Sailors to fulfill their combat missions. To close on a happy note, come October 5th, my wife and I will have been married for 10 years.
on sept 11 I was in sheridan county working on their pcs at the time. I went to the local bar for lunch as I knew what was going
on but didnt have current information because the internet was frozen because so many people were trying to find out what was going on. We just had our first born on june 21st of 2001. My biggest concern was for her. Bought baby gas masks for her from surplus property at the time. My vivid memory was wondering what kind of world I brought this little girl into, and what it would be like when or if she ever did grow up.
I remember that morning. My wife was getting ready to go to work at her teaching job and I was going to take care of the kids for the day (son was 4, daughter, 6). We had the Today show on and they were ready to start an interview with someone. They got a report that a plane had just hit one of the Trade Center Towers and at first it was thought it was just a small plane. Several minutes later the second plane hit and at that time I knew it was some kind of planned attack. Also found out these were not small planes but large jet liners. My wife headed off to work, I got the kids breakfast and settled down watching the TV. Reports came in about the Pentagon and there were all kinds of rumors about other planes and other attacks. All planes were ordered to land and it was not until later in the afternoon it came out that there were just the 4 planes. For awile it sounded like many planes had been hijacked.
The thing I remember most about the following days, besides the continual TV coverage, was the quiet when I was outside. I’m a farmer/rancher and spend a majority of my time outside. The wide open blue sky over our place is often etched with the contrails of passing airlineres traveling east and west with the sounds of their engines. The thing that struck me was the absence of the sights and sounds of the planes.
My daughter tells me she remembered that day, she was upset that she couldn’t watch her cartoons because of all the news coverage.
My wife and I had stayed overnight in a motel in Lillooet, B.C, Canada, visiting a town where she had lived some years earlier. In the morning we turned on the TV for the first time just to see what channels might be available. Only about 2 channels were available and the one we watched was showing some implausible scene about a big tower in NYC collapsing downward at a crazy angle. We thought it was some cheap sci-fi story, and unlikely at that. I was annoyed because I thought, haven’t they learned anything after that 1938 debacle with Orson Welles ‘War of the Worlds’ on radio? They were going on as though it was a real story.
Then after a minute or two I said “What is this?” Then we realized it had really happened and it was unclear what else might happen. We wanted to continue our trip around that part of Canada but we increasingly sort of went into shock and realized there was no way we could continue the trip any longer. As a result, we took a few pictures, then hurried home to follow events as they might occur. We spent the next few weeks staying very close to home, trying to stay safe. I thought at first the govt might might go after the terrorists and be done with it. I still can’t see how a war against guerilla style terrorists can be fought. Haven’t we learned anything since Vietnam? Didn’t we learn the lesson about the Rope-a-Dope? We went from a budget surplus when Clinton left office into incredible debt, fighting wars over a small scale attack by terrorists. Talk about the “mouse that roared”! Terrorists may have found out how to bring America down.
I was on my way to work that morning at the Fargo-Moorhead Community Theatre and just sitting down with my bowl of cereal to catch up with the morning news. I remember in the middle of a story the news feed seemed to switch (morning national news is an hour delayed for us in Central Time). Suddenly the news anchors seemed alarmed and disturbed as they started showing us live feed of a fire in one of the trade center towers.
I remember watching the news feed as the second plane hit and dropping the spoon into my cereal bowl. The news anchors didn’t have words and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I don’t think I finished that bowl of cereal.
We had a staff meeting that morning and we just sat there looking at each other, nothing got discussed. The phone rang and our technical director (who had the day off) called to say that the second tower had fallen. The meeting broke up so we could go to our offices and follow the news on the web and radio.
No actual work was done that day.
I’ve been to New York several times, both before and after September 11, 2001.
I remember someone telling me in 1995, “If you get lost, just look for the towers. That’s south. Then you can find your way almost anywhere.”
You really could see them from anywhere in the city.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1998_United_States_embassy_bombings
While the US focuses on the 911, while we remember, reflect and grieve….can I ask that you all note these bombings that attacked the US on foreign soil BEFORE 911 yes it was against the US this is what brought Osama bin Laden to our attention …… 100′s of innocent people both US and NON US citizens died, thousands injured. This is what I remember ……Not one person I knew was devastated or sad no people that I saw were crying for them. I remember exactly what I was doing that day……. I sat in my truck alone crying for the people in Nairobi and elsewhere that I had just spent time with the year before…I tried to find out if those I knew were ok…..when I told people they did not understand the significance nor feel terrible sadness . I cried for all of the US citizens that lost their lives away from home…forgotten and all of the innocent people that died for another countries policy……….So when I heard of 911 it reminded me of these bombings and the lack of response…in addition to being sad for the lives lost in 911 I asked what is different between lives lost here vs elsewhere? Really? I get that 911 was a wake up call on our soil however still saddened me deeply and brought a realization to the lack of awareness that our general public has to foreign policy and other countries struggles..I was teaching at UND and for each class we discussed this the attacks and the US foreign policy and other countries perceptions of the US and why they have them…I attended a church service later on veterans day in which the minister and music director sang a song they had written all about killing and revenge and hate for Muslims…..I cried for them…and for the people that stood up and clapped after…I walked out..There have been many terrorist attacks worldwide….let us not just focus on ourselves but how our actions impact all others….let us think in our spiritual way guided by our spiritual leader Christ or Buddha etc. How would they respond? on the date of 911 let us remember think and reflect on everyone that has died needlessly because of terrorism…let us ask why, let us be rawly honest about our policy and actions, let us have compassion for all and seek to understand the bigger picture so that we can find a path to peace….your efforts are wonderful and I hope that the symposium is a great success.
I left for work without knowing what was going on. When I arrived, my boss said “We’re being bombed!” I turned on the TV and the first building had already been hit. I watched, I don’t think I breathed. I saw the fire lines on the buildings get darker and darker as it made it’s way around. I knew those buildings were going to fall, I couldn’t believe that no one else knew.
I realized that 2 hours had passed and I hadn’t moved from my spot and I hadn’t had one single customer. I suddenly had the feeling that everyone was in the same spot I was in in. That we were all joined by tragedy again.
Once I broke thru the spell, I told my boss that I hoped it was one of ours. He didn’t understand what I meant. I told him that if it wasn’t an American that did all this, we were going to war.
I’ll never forget 9-11
My Mother died two days before after a difficult battle with oral cancer.I am a school social worker in Fargo with English as a Second Language programs and I was traveling from a meeting at one of the elementary schools to the Adult Learning Center. I had the radio on and listened in disbelief. When I arrived at the ALC the other staff had all of the adult ESL students together watching television. They had told the students first thing that morning that my Mother had died, when I came in the room two Somali elders uncharacteristicly gave me a hug. I think they were so stunned by the events and so moved by compassion they needed to comfort me. It was even more difficult to watch the tragedy unfold amidst so many refugees who unfortunately lived through their own terror.
As a resident of the California, having been reared in Hettinger, North Dakota, though far removed, I still consider myself an elite member of the Heartland of America. On September 11th, 2001 at 6 AM a ringing telephone startled me into consciousness. Because my wife and I have elderly, not in the best of health parents, any call outside of normal wake hours sends thoughts racing through our heads. The caller, my father-in-law, a veteran of both WW II and Korea, made one statement, “Turn on the TV.” When asked which channel, he responded, “Pick one”. My first selection showed the Twin Towers burning. Thinking it was a movie, I switch channels and quickly realized, no matter where I tuned, the image was the same, only the narrator differed. In shock, for hours I was glued to the tube, channel surfing; exchanges of telephone calls between friends and relatives the only interruption. The events of the day unfold and over the next few days as more information became available, shock turned to anger, which in turn became revengeful thoughts. During exchanges with former co-workers I learned a surveillance squad from which I had just retired had been assigned to a task force headed by the FBI, their mission, follow Middle Easterners with connections to subversive organizations. These organizations had been on the radar for a very long time and nothing had ever been done about them, the proverbial closing the barn door. And now more anger, 6 weeks prior I retired from the Los Angeles Police Department. Because of my age I had to sign a statement of understanding whereas I was made fully aware, I was not eligible for rehire. This statement had a poison pill giving me 30 days to change my mind; that too was to late for 9-11. Here I was 55 years of age, a Vietnam veteran with 8 years in the Army, 27 years on LAPD and there was nothing I could do. Had I had a crystal ball I would not have retired; I would have been able to make my contribution towards retaliation for the attack on 9-11.
On 9/11/01, I was living in Jamestown, ND. I was sitting in my cubicle at work listening to NPR morning edition. As soon as they started reporting the event, I just sat there staring at the computer screen, stunned, with tears welling in my eyes. I looked around the office expecting to see everybody standing up and talking about what was happening. But that’s not what I saw. One co-worker was walking toward me, arms out, her eyes big with shock and confusion. I’m sure my face mirrored hers. We hugged each other, amazed and distraught that no one else seemed to know that airplanes had been hijacked by terrorists & crashed into buildings! It seemed unreal. Juxtaposed to the plane crashes taking place at that moment, was work as usual in our office. No office announcements were made, nothing.
During my lunch break, I walked to my parent’s house to see what the TV stations were reporting. NPR reporters did a great job describing what had happened, but that still didn’t prepare me for the video of the plane flying into the building. It wasn’t movie magic. It was real people dying in an instant.
I was on my second day of a two week vacation and was eating breakfast while watching Good Morning America when the show was interrupted with the news that a plane hit one of the Twin Towers. Eighteen minutes later I saw the second plane crash into the second tower. I immediately knew that this was a terrorists attack. From that point on, all I could do the rest of the week was to watch the television and cry. The stories of my fellow Americans and how they responded helping others without concern for their own safety gave me a measure of comfort in the madness of all the events that kept unfolding. We proceeded with our plans for the second week of vacation by going to Duluth, Minnesota and enjoying the sights in that area while avoiding the television. We tried to bring some balance of peace and safety to our minds trusting that God was in control regardless of what was happening around us. What stands out that I will take with me for the rest of my life are the people that I believe were heroes by their conduct and behavior when they put others first and in many cases gave their own life in doing so.
For those involved in this project, thank you. I hope projects like this are happening all across America, as I feel ten years is long enough to hopefully leave the pain aside and still have vivid memories of the hours, days, months and ensuing years following. It is timely for a record to be made of it all.
I was not living in North Dakota at the time of the attacks of September 11, 2001. I moved here to join my husband as a truck driver that November. That morning I had arrived at trucking school with the other students of my class. We practiced driving at a small race track near the local air field. Our instructor raced into the track and told us to get back to the school building. He said a plane had just smashed into a sky scraper in New York. As we came into the school they had pulled a TV from one of the classrooms, and as we watched and listened to the reporter… the second plane struck.
One thing about that whole year or so after stays in my mind. My husband and I drove all over the country and for that first year it seemed that we as a people, as a nation, were galvanized. The symbol was our flag. It was everywhere. On cars, on houses, on trucks, on billboards, pained on buildings. If a business had a pole the flag flew, if a business didn’t have a pole they put one up. Unbelievably huge flags appeared at restaurants, factories, plants and parks. We had been hit, but we were proud.
Then a year went by. There were less flags. You started to see them in the gutters, along the road ways, caught in bushes. After three years, the huge flags still flew, many smaller ones as well. Car flags all but disappeared, and lawsuits began over flags that were considered too big for their neighborhoods.
For a brief moment we stood together. Then it faded. Now we seem more divided than I have ever known in my lifetime. I was a child in the 70s. I was a teen in the 80′s. I was a young adult in the 90′s. In the last decade I still retained great enthusiasm for our country. I believed we could weather all storms – including the attack of 9/11. I am not so sure anymore. I think maybe those attacks may have cracked the foundation, the bedrock of our great nation. I worry that like a building, it has taken time but the walls are starting to lean and the roof is just beginning to splay. I hope I am wrong. I pray we are still sound. But I fear that might be the ultimate result of a handful of men using four jumbo jets and the wasting of hundreds of lives; changing our collective worlds from that moment forward.
I am sorry for being maudlin, but this is the first I have really written about this experience in hindsight.
Thank you for your project. I wish you much success and look forward to the coming symposium.
Shana
The morning of Sept. 11, 2001 began for me as any other- a flurry of encouraging children, trips to the kitchen to pour bowls of cereal, curling my hair. I had briefly logged onto msn and clicked on “hotmail,” to check for “important” news from home (Bismarck). Nothing. I went back to the bathroom to finish myself for the day, when the phone trilled. It was my husband. “Did you see what happened to the Twin Towers?,” he asked. I replied, “I saw a movie trailer on MSN. Why?” When he explained that what I’d seen was real, I ran to the television. Just stood there, with my mouth open, watching the second plane hit, and then the buildings crumble into a storm of grey rubble.
That storm filtered out of the television and my heart was instantly overtaken by sorrow and fear. I felt more alone than I ever had and afraid for everyone. A battering desperation to have my loved ones within arms reach gave way to driving to the school and retrieving my son, who’d only just gotten there. I called my family, “Are you okay?” “What’s happening there?” “What’s going to happen next?” “Who would do this?” “I Love You.”
My good friend, a Filipino immigrant, the wife of a full-time Guardsman, came over and spent the rest of the day with us. She was scared and lonesome too. We talked about the impending activation of her husband and the impression that citizens of other countries have of the U.S. She kept referring to the U.S. as “your country.” That made me angry. I told my friend that because of the sacrifices she was probably about to make, the U.S. was more her country than mine. She stopped saying, “your country.”
As I’m writing this, I realize that I could write a book about that day and my story isn’t anything special. I did not lose anyone or even personally know anyone who became the victim of this act of terrorism. I have never been to New York City and only thought of the towers when they were mentioned in the news or brought to life in the movies.
However, despite my personal and my geographical distances from the events, Sept. 11 etched ugly scars into my being.
I stood in the hallway of the New Jersey radio station, to which I’d just relocated. I didn’t know what the World Trade Center was. I heard a scream from the traffic scheduling office down the hall, and the afternoon guy rushed toward me. I gravitated toward the scream. We saw the second plane hit.
I spent thirteen hours on the air with the rest of the airstaff that day, trying to keep the world updated on whatever this was that was happening. I’m a soldier’s kid. We were terrified, in a really slow-motion way. That plane that hit the Pentagon brought it home for me. A plane went down to the west, in Pennsylvania, and phone lines were jammed, so I couldn’t call my mom and dad, but the Pentagon? As a North Dakota girl, I wanted to be landlocked just then. I wanted to feel safe. I did not want to be on a beach anymore. It did not take long for Dad’s truck and trailer to arrive and haul me away from the ocean.
That morning I had arrived to teach my Surgical Technology class at our community college. I remeber our only male student running into the office to tell us that a bomb or “something” had blown up one of the twin towers. My co-worker and I turned on the clock radio on her desk to listen to what was going on. As we tried to figure things out, the second plane hit. Class was cancelled and we went to the nearest TV, which was an old black and white in the breakroom ustairs. Emotions ran wild as we watched in disbelief! That was all my husband and I watched on TV for the next several days. I remember thinking I was so glad not to have any children yet, as it would have been a horrible event to try to explain to them.
I was living in CT and working in Armonk,NY, at the time. My husband and I were on a long-awaited vacation in Aruba on 9-11….we had made a stop on an island tour where there happen to be a TV and could not believe what was happening. Of course, initially it was hoped to have been an accident until the second tower was hit. Our vacation quickly changed from relaxing on the beach to watching TV for updates. The Resort Management gathered all the guests into a meeting assuring us of our safety and that we could stay as long as necessary as there were no flights to the US. We were actually fortunate that our scheduled flight 5 days later was the first American Airlines direct flight to JFK, NY. Getting thru Security at the airport was very time-consuming….we had to arrive 3 hours earlier than normal. Before takeoff the Pilot assured us that they had thoroughly checked the background of each and every passenger….in spite of that everyone was anxious….especially of anyone that appeared to be from that part of the world. We were very happy to back on US soil…..but our lives had changed forever. When I returned to work, things had changed….security had taken on a whole new life of its own….we had to plan for on-call 24 hours a day. Seven members of our church lost their lives…prayer and grieving sessions were held to let others who were spared share their stories and help everyone cope. I had visited the World Trade Center a number of times before 9-11 and have been back to Ground Zero since. It is hard to believe that such a tragedy could occur which has affected all of our lives forever.
Normally, the TV is on as soon as I’m up but that day wasn’t normal. My husband was home later than usual for a business outing and we never even bothered to turn it on. When I left for work, I turned on the radio and drove my 3-minute drive to the Hazen Library where I work. The radio was tuned to KNDR which is a Christian station and sometimes they broadcast dramas or read excerpts from books. Whatever they were doing was creeping me out because it was so realistic so I turned off the radio. I headed in to the library and started up the computers. When I pulled up the news I realized they weren’t broadcasting a drama or book excerpt; it was real.
My first thoughts went to my children who were both away at college; one at Dickinson State and one at NDSU. I yearned to have some way to physically touch them to make sure they were okay but knew that couldn’t happen. They obviously felt the need to touch base too and it wasn’t long before they were on the phone to me just to talk things over.
A couple of patrons came in and talked about the attack and asked me if I thought this was the beginning of the end times. I thought for a moment and said other places such as Israel have gone through this kind of terror for years; it only seems like the end times because this happened to us.
I only worked part time that day and went home to be glued to the TV (as I was for days to come). Standing there watching, too stunned to even sit down, I prayed for those firemen and policemen and the thousands of people who had lost their loved ones. Then I cried.
I worked in the Pentagon on September 11th. I heard of the first plane hitting the World Trade Center and thought that it was a horrible accident. I had actually gone to get breakfast in one of the local shops in the building when the second plane hit the other tower. When I heard of this, there was no doubt in my mind that it was an attack. For whatever reason, the thought occured to me that if someone wanted to hit a military target, we would probably be at the top of the list. Sometime later, I felt a huge rumble. My two civilian counterparts knew exactly what it was and just got up and left. I stepped outside the secured area I worked in and when I got into the hallway, I imediately smelled jet fuel. I too left and when I got outside the building, I looked over my shoulder and could see a column of black smoke rising from where the helicopter pad was. Shortly thereafter, we felt another explosion. At first I thought another plane must have hit the building. I would later learn that it was part of the building collapsing.
For the next few hours, there was a lot of confusion. There were rumors that the towers had fallen and that a bomb had gone off at the State Department. We were also pushed farther and farther away from the building as there was talk of another inbound plane. To complicate matters, cell phones were useless. No one could get a call out. It took almost three hours to get word to my wife that I was o.k. Worst of all she didn’t even hear from me but some stranger. The one calming thing that took place in all this was seeing and hearing the F-16s streak over head. When we saw them we all knew then that the good guys were there.
Two things really stand out to me about that day. First was walking into that hallway and smelling the jet fuel. I can still close my eyes and remember it as vividly as if I were still there. The other is the clear blue sky. They are rare there on the East Coast, and I will never see one again, whereever I am without remembering that day.
On September 11th 2001, I was a preschool teacher working in a private daycare. I was at work early that day and bounced from class to class as I filled in for absent teachers. I heard about the plane hitting the World Trade Center from a parent dropping off a child. Then I was told by a staff memeber to tell the baby room run by a bunch of New Yorkers about the second plane. I was shocked, I was saddened, but distantly. I’ve never been to NYC. I didn’t know anyone in there. I was concerened for my co-workers. I hoped none of their family members were there. Then a baby room teacher ran through my room on her cell phone yelling ” A plane just hit the Pentagon!” My world stopped. My husband of just over a year was in that building! I turned white. The other teacher looked at me and said “Who you got in the Pentagon?” as I said “Mike!” I was too scared to cry. The assistant director walked in and sent me to the office to try to call Mike and to listen to the news. Our cook was off sick unexpectedly. That day I cooked fish sticks and green beans and served up fruit cocktail. I was told to go home but as I couldn’t get a hold of Mike’s cell or work, I wasn’t going anywhere! It was 10 in the morning. If anybody wanted to call me, work was a good bet. I finally got a call from a stranger who told me Mike was safe. I cried and cried. I just hadn’t been able to cry before, but the relief seemed to pour buckets from my eyes. I went home and called family. I waited and waited for Mike to come home. I watched the news and saw the destruction wrought by evil men. By 4:30 pm Mike still hadn’t walked in the door. I was panicked again. 30 minutes later, I heard his key in the lock and ran for the door. I hugged the stuffing out of that man. I was so relieved and sad and angry all at the same time. I made dinner and we talked, answered our ringing phone, talking to old friends checking in on Mike’s safety and went to bed, frequently getting up to answer the phone. At 4 am I just left it off the hook. I was glad to end that day.
The first week of September, 2001, my then husband and I flew in his private plane to Medford, Oregon with plans to fly on to Port Townsend, WA and Seattle for a family celebration the following weekend. My husband, Jay Grantier, was remembering the terrorist attack he’d endured in September, 1986 when he was held hostage on a Pan Am plane in Karachi, Pakistan.
In Medford on the morning of September 11, 2001, we were ready to leave for the airport when the television images that are now hardwired into our brains appeared. Jay said, “It has to be Osama Bin Laden.” Immediately, Jay phoned the airport to see if our plane was ready for take-off. They said it was, but when we arrived at the airport, of course, all air traffic had been grounded. We left the plane in storage, quickly rented a car and drove to Port Townsend where our young granddaughters were glued to the television coverage. Our son, their father, was on duty as a fireman EMT in a Seattle suburb where all emergency services were on red alert. On the drive to Port Townsend, such a subdued and gentle manner permeated our stops at reststops. People were stunned, but strong, it seemed to me. Yes, it could happen here, here in the USA, but we would not bow to them.
In the ensuing time, word unfolded of the heroes, the survivors, the victims–some of whom we had brushed sleeves with in times gone past. But in a way, we were all victims. Our nation’s priorities changed that day in a way that will affect its place in history.
That morning I had come into the kitchen to make myself breakfast. Watching the news was a part of my breakfast routine, but what I saw that morning at first made me very confused. I turned the channel because I thought maybe it was a movie that I was watching. When reality set in I had to sit down and take the time to understand what was happening. After I figured it out I went in the living room and informed my mother that not only had both World Trade Center buildings been flown into, but also the Pentagon and attempt had been made to reach Camp David. Watching the people jumping from the towers affected me most and the image will never leave my mind. I remember hearing the screaming and the sirens and all I could do was cry.
I called my best friend to talk to him about it and he thought I was talking about a movie. I had history class with Mike McCormack and he told us about his daughter living in New York City. He expressed how concerned he was for her and his relief when he knew she was safe. He had all of us write down the events of the day and how it impacted us.
The reality of that day was a frightening experience and it has left this country and citizens with the feeling of being vulnerable. Every time I pack a bag and board a plane the security measures never fail to remind me of that day.