This is a repost of my post from last year on this date: Remembering September 11, 2001. I can think of no other way to reflect on the events of four years ago than to simply remember, so here are my memories of that day:
I was in my office at Troy (then State) University. I had an 8:30am American National Government class and I was getting my stuff together and doing any number of miscellaneous tasks. Somewhere around this time one of my suitemates (there were three offices together with an antechamber) came out and said that his wife had called to say that an airplane had crashed into one of the World Trade towers. He didn’t know what kind of plane. Like everyone else, it seemed like a likely accident. Indeed, I checked the net and the initial news was sketchy and at least one story seemed to indicate that it was a small plane.
News of the second crash had been given to me before going to my 8:30 class, but it was still very vague, and there was still no indication to me that either crash was a passenger jet, although the idea that it was possibly something criminal ofrworse was starting to become clear. Most of the news we were getting in delayed fashion from my suitemate’s wife over the phone. No doubt it was hard to tell how bad the news was, because this particular person was prone to getting easily excited–let’s just say he spoke the language of emotional hyperbole, making it sometimes difficult to know how seriously to take things he got excited about. Nothing about the second plane had made the net in time for me to check it before going to class.
I went to class disquieted, but having no clue as to what really had happened. I remember mentioning to my class that it seemed something was up—most of them had just rolled out of bed, so most hadn’t heard anything. I distinctly remember one student making a semi-joke that it was probably some stunt plane or some small jet which had made a mistake. I recall his tone being that it wasn’t a big deal and was kind of funny. I remember saying that it seemed as if something else was going on, something more serious. There was some speculation in our discussion about terrorism, but again, it focused on the idea of small plane, and therefore relatively small damage. The idea that it was large, coordinated attack on more than one city wasn’t even in my mind
We had class and when I got out and returned to office, it was clear that something big was up. Via my suitemate’s wife, and then calling my own wife, we were at the stage in which it was clear we had been attacked, and it was utterly unclear as to how many planes had been hijacked. This was during the rumor stage when it was thought that there had been far more than four planes. Indeed, there was at least one rumor of car bombs in DC.
I tried to get info via the internet, but all the news sites were overloaded (eventually some would go to text-only, and we were able to get some news). I remember finding some small-town newspaper whose site was still working to get some basic info. My other suite-mate, James Joyner, was also trying to find news via his computer.
We weren’t finding much, but shouted back and forth what we did find.
Finally, I went and got the one TV we have in the Department which is hooked to a VCR. We didn’t have cable or an antenna, but by putting the TV by my window I was able to tune in (kinda) one station, the NBC affiliate out of Montgomery. That’s when I saw the pictures for the first time, on a snowy TV screen: the pictures of the planes crashing into the Towers. It was on that screen that I heard the speculation, saw clips of the President, and eventually saw the Towers fall.
Students and the political science faculty all gathered around that television and watched together. Not surprisingly I cancelled by 11:30 class and continued to watch, many of the students from that class ended up staying in my office for a while.
We were transfixed and stunned.
I am not sure how long I stayed at the office—long enough for the main horror of the day to have occurred, and for the tragedy of it all to have settled in. I eventually went home to continue watching the coverage and to see, in vivid color (and over and over) the horrible scenes of the impact of those planes and the collapse of the Towers.
At home my wife, my mother and I just watched. My wife was pregnant with our third son at the time (he was born 16 days later). My then 4 year-old and 1 year-old blissfully had no idea what was going on. My 4 year-old simply understood that some planes had crashed. My mother, who was visiting from Arizona, was supposed to go home the next day, but obviously her visit was extended.
The news about DC and Washington National airport was personally stunning to me, as I had just been in DC that previous week and weekend, attending the Latin American Studies Association’s conference. It was surreal to have just been there and to have these attacks take place.
It is remarkable how a day like that can imprint clear memories that almost give you the ability to go back and be where you were that day. There are specific images of people and of actions that I can conjure from that day as though I were traveling in time in my own mind and looking through my own eyes three years ago.
Like all of us, it isn’t a day I am soon likely to forget.
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