September 11, 2001 – a day known to most as simlpy 9/11 – was a day that changed the world.  For those of you who were too young to be aware, or for those of you who have been living under a rock, it was the horrible day that saw the fall of The World Trade Center in New York City and a plane crash into the Pentagon in our nation’s capitol city.  Had it not been for the heroic efforts of the crew and passengers of United Flight 93, we might have seen another attack on a major landmark.  Looking back on it all, a decade later, it’s hard to imagine that it all happened.  We of course know a great deal of the story behind that day – gruesome tales and heroic stories alike – but to think back about the events as they unfolded on that day?  It’s still hard to believe that I made it through that day and the weeks to follow.

I was working in North New Jersey at the time – far enough away from the New York that I was safe, but not so far that I couldn’t see the smoke rising from the site throughout the day.  At 8:46 am, the first of two hijacked planes crashed into The World Trade Center’s North tower.  News traveled fast and a co-worker clued me into that fact.  At the time, we thought it was a horrible accident, as unlikely as that might sound.  We didn’t fathom the idea that it was a terrorist attack.  The internet at our office slowed as we all scrambled to find news outlets covering the story – which was really a difficulty back then, as news didn’t disseminate over the net as fast as it does these days.  Keep in mind, this is before Twitter and Facebook.  Those with radios shouted out news as it occurred.  And when the second plane hit the South tower at 9:02 am, that’s when we knew it wasn’t an accident.  That was when it became very real.

Work stopped.  Our minds could not be kept on task.  We crowded in the offices of those with radios, we gathered in the hallways to discuss what was going on.  It’s not like any of us knew anything more than the other.  It’s not like we knew anything at all.  But there is comfort in being clueless and lost in a crowd of other clueless and lost individuals.  You don’t want to go it alone.  I remember calling my parents, which took several attempts as the phone lines were understandably busy.  Sitting at the breakfast table, they had not yet gotten wind of the event.  Dumbfounded about that fact, I forced them to put on the news and there were not many words said beyond that.  My parents and I were quiet as the news unfolded.  And so we we ended the conversation, agreeing to keep tabs throughout the day.   But the hits kept on coming.  Next, at 9:37 am, another plane crashed into the Pentagon. Then the south tower of the World Trade Center collapsed at 9:59 am.  At 10:03 am, Flight 93 crashes in a field in Western Pennsylvania – a clue that there was potentially an additional target.  At 10:28, the North tower collapses, and the World Trade Center is no more.

We left work then, crowding into an already crowded pub for an early lunch.  It wasn’t that we were really hungry.  But there was some comfort in being with a bunch of people – many of which were unknown – all staring at the same television screens, all looking for answers.  It was the first time I was in a pub so quiet with so many people present.  As footage of the crashes and the collapse of the towers were shown time after time after time again on the televisions, it didn’t seem to make things any more or less real.  Logic and our own eyes told us these events were real – they were happening.  But something made us think that perhaps this was all a bad dream.

Our office dismissed us, allowing us to get home to our families.  Some chose to stay at work, as if the tasks of the day would keep our minds off of things.  Others were already long gone, work forgotten hours ago.  At least one person in our office lost a close friend in the collapse of the towers – we didn’t see him for days.  Confused and bewildered, I didn’t really know what to do.  I lived with my folks at the time, but my home was well over an hour away.  I started on my way home listening to the news radio out of New York, which was barely audible as it’s main antenna resided at the top of the Twin Towers, and it’s backup had horrible range.  Just as I was coming into range of the Philadelphia news station, news started to break confirming that the first plane to strike The World Trade Center was United Flight 175, which was suspected, but not confirmed up until this point.  I remember thinking that a confirmation seemed so difficult to attain.  I remember wondering how many flights had lost radio contact, or how many other flights might have been hijacked.  At the time, no one was sure that the day’s events were over.  News began to break that airports all over the country were being shut down.

Then I stopped at a golf driving range to hit off a few buckets of balls.  I don’t know why I wanted to hit golf balls.  And I don’t know what therapy might have been acquired from hitting those balls.  But I needed some sort of buffer for a time.  I needed a break from the horror spit from the news anchors.  On a long highway between work and home, a veritable farm land far from nowhere, the driving range seemed like a worthy escape.

When I got home, I spent the rest of the day on the couch watching Peter Jennings on ABC’s special broadcast covering the events of the day.  Jennings anchored the program for 17 straight hours.  I am thankful for that, as I don’t think I would have made it through the day without Mr. Jennings.

In the end, the world changed.  Airports remained closed for a few days – stranding my sister-in-law and her oldest child in Atlanta, Georgia during that time – and talks had already begun about the aftermath and what was to come.  American flags flown from cars and on front lawns became the norm – you were almost shunned if you didn’t have a flag displayed somewhere on your car.  There were ugly outcomes:  People from the middle east, many of which were citizens, were publicly humiliated and discriminated against despite not being at all involved in the events of 9/11.  There were also pleasant outcomes:  Thousands of volunteers went to New York and Washington D.C. to help in any way that they could, including thousands of Firefighters helping in rescue and recovery operations.  There were also the small gestures, like the family that put my stranded sister-in-law and nephew up for a few days until they found a way home.  But 9/11 remains as the day that changed everything.

Personally, I mark the day as a day when my mortality was first realized.  Just a little over a year out of college, the real world hadn’t really sunk in yet.  I was still very much a college boy with few responsibilities, and the events of 9/11 struck me deep.  I’m not sure to what extent the day has impacted my personality.  I only know that it has.  It’s very difficult for anyone to say that 9/11 didn’t have an impact on our lives:  It did.  It is a day that will simply never be forgotten.  Everyone’s story is different.  And now you know mine.