tempestuously (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tempestuously) wrote2008-09-11 07:18 pm
tempestuously) wrote2008-09-11 07:18 pm
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I have two topics to discuss today, but since today does have some reverence associated with it, I will separate them.
I read a Washington Post article commenting about how people remember today. Beyond the hatred and the media and the politics and the national outrage, there is what people actually remember. Not what they later learned. But what they felt/thought that day. I think the personal reaction is part of what remembering Sept. 11, 2001 is all about. So in accordance with the Post's suggestion I am writing this short piece, based on what that day was like for me.
My memory is rather silly, despite the gravity of the day. My leg had been hurting earlier that day -- I figured I sprained it or something -- so I went to my college's clinic to get it checked on. It was my first time there -- I was a freshman student then -- so of course the first thing I noticed was the huge TV in the waiting room. There were several people gathered around it, but I figured they were watching the news ticker, sports news or something equally mundane. So I went through the whole check-in process and then returned to the room when I was done. Curiosity got the best of me and I decided to get a better look of the TV. I saw the first burning tower and heard murmurings around me about a plane accident. It took me even longer to actually realize it was part of the World Trade Center. And while I was horrified, I thought that yes, someone must have lost control of their plane in a tragic accident. Then I saw the footage switch to the next burning building and something in my gut told me it couldn't have been an accident. When I was called in for my check-up, I sat numbly while the doctor, as professional as ever, tested my reflex and went through other measures to see if I had pulled a muscle. He suggested an x-ray but the rest of his words were lost to me, as I kept thinking about the towers and how whatever my problems were, they weren't worth taking up anyone's time right now. I returned to the waiting room. By now, reports of "terrorist attacks" were coming in and I just wanted to go home. I tried to call my father but of course the phone lines were over-saturated with calls, and I realized i was being selfish. So instead I went to my computer and tried to look up news sites, blogs, anything that could tell me more information. I remember reading ones from people worried about friends in New York; I remember reading ones of pure rage. By the time my next class rolled around -- it was sociology and yes I went -- mutterings of Osama Bin Laden and Al Quaeda were being talked about by reporters. I recognized neither name; I barely knew Afghanistan and wondered if it was near Pakistan, the home place of a girl I grew up with. My sociology class had found a television and just watched the coverage, absolutely silent. I think we talked about it afterwards. I don't remember much about the discussion, but I remember people were still angry.
I had no one at risk and took at least another day before I really understood anything that happened, aside from the anger and fear everyone felt, so I guess my story isn't as important as some. But it is what I remember of Sept. 11. I encourage my F-list to share theirs. As the Post writer said, "But in this way, we remember."
I read a Washington Post article commenting about how people remember today. Beyond the hatred and the media and the politics and the national outrage, there is what people actually remember. Not what they later learned. But what they felt/thought that day. I think the personal reaction is part of what remembering Sept. 11, 2001 is all about. So in accordance with the Post's suggestion I am writing this short piece, based on what that day was like for me.
My memory is rather silly, despite the gravity of the day. My leg had been hurting earlier that day -- I figured I sprained it or something -- so I went to my college's clinic to get it checked on. It was my first time there -- I was a freshman student then -- so of course the first thing I noticed was the huge TV in the waiting room. There were several people gathered around it, but I figured they were watching the news ticker, sports news or something equally mundane. So I went through the whole check-in process and then returned to the room when I was done. Curiosity got the best of me and I decided to get a better look of the TV. I saw the first burning tower and heard murmurings around me about a plane accident. It took me even longer to actually realize it was part of the World Trade Center. And while I was horrified, I thought that yes, someone must have lost control of their plane in a tragic accident. Then I saw the footage switch to the next burning building and something in my gut told me it couldn't have been an accident. When I was called in for my check-up, I sat numbly while the doctor, as professional as ever, tested my reflex and went through other measures to see if I had pulled a muscle. He suggested an x-ray but the rest of his words were lost to me, as I kept thinking about the towers and how whatever my problems were, they weren't worth taking up anyone's time right now. I returned to the waiting room. By now, reports of "terrorist attacks" were coming in and I just wanted to go home. I tried to call my father but of course the phone lines were over-saturated with calls, and I realized i was being selfish. So instead I went to my computer and tried to look up news sites, blogs, anything that could tell me more information. I remember reading ones from people worried about friends in New York; I remember reading ones of pure rage. By the time my next class rolled around -- it was sociology and yes I went -- mutterings of Osama Bin Laden and Al Quaeda were being talked about by reporters. I recognized neither name; I barely knew Afghanistan and wondered if it was near Pakistan, the home place of a girl I grew up with. My sociology class had found a television and just watched the coverage, absolutely silent. I think we talked about it afterwards. I don't remember much about the discussion, but I remember people were still angry.
I had no one at risk and took at least another day before I really understood anything that happened, aside from the anger and fear everyone felt, so I guess my story isn't as important as some. But it is what I remember of Sept. 11. I encourage my F-list to share theirs. As the Post writer said, "But in this way, we remember."