Remembering 9/11 thirteen years later.....

Many will reflect on the events of 9/11, where we were, what we were doing, and the losses we felt.  We will think about how our safety and security shifted in a few short hours and how that has affected us individually and collectively since.  

A local newscaster visited a classroom yesterday to talk about 9/11.  The 13-14 year old students had no memories of the day, only what they've read about. He said "the farther we get from the actual event, the more isolated we become in our memories".   This is true for any event, how each element of a memory becomes honed, our most important images and thoughts galvanized building barriers in our minds so they don't slip away.  

I know exactly where, what and who I was with 9/11, just like I remember the day President Kennedy was shot even though I was only 9.  Two mostly-French speaking co-workers from our mill in Quebec had flown in for Quality meetings with Steelcase.  I picked them up at their hotel near the airport first thing and headed to our 8:30 AM meeting.  We had been working for some time when someone announced a plane had accidentally flown into the first tower at 8:45 AM, never thinking terrorism.

We continued working. We spent time on the loading docks inspecting several pallets of fabric.  Suddenly we began hearing airplanes making sudden landings at the airport, one right after another.  A bit odd, but still no cause for concern.  A short time later a worker had a radio on, and we heard the second tower had been hit, and the Pentagon, and now a plane was missing.  This was certainly not random, it was deliberate, and we speculated where the plane would attack.  Perhaps Chicago's Sears Tower (now Willis Tower).   Who did this, and why?  What next?  We were under attacked.

Everyone anxious, we decided it was time to conclude our meeting. I returned my co-workers to their hotel to make arrangements to get home, swiftly making my way to pick Aaron up at school.  I made many calls to family and friends that I knew were traveling to be sure they were safe.  My nephew that lived in NYC was safe.  I became very concerned about my coworkers in New York, only blocks from the towers.  They were safe; they could see fire and plumes of smoke, their memories also etched forever.  By this time the office building had ordered an evacuation.  All bridges, subways everything had been halted until authorities could determine it was safe.  Every possibility was considered, and fear escalated.  Many of these workers commuted outside Manhattan so they had to walk hours to get home.  Even those inside Manhattan had to walk long distances.  Nothing moved but slowly.  But they were safe...for now.

Glued to the TV, we watched events unfold, theories of whom, why, and what was yet to come.  The missing plane had crashed in a rural Pennsylvania field. The borders were shut down for the near future, my Canadian coworkers were not going anywhere.  We decided I couldn't leave them alone in Grand Rapids as one could barely speak English, the other at all.  They didn't understand what exactly was happening, so I quickly drove to pick them up.  They would stay at our house until we knew it was safe and they could return home.

On the way I saw gas lines form, and prices shot up dramatically, so I filled up. There was a frenzied feel in the air, tension and fear had begun to build, everyone looking suspiciously at each other.  I remember vividly standing at the gas pump thinking although I had no clear facts of the day’s events I knew the future was changed forever.  A seismic shift had occurred in a few short hours in the minds of most Americans feeling that level of terror for the first time.  Life would change dramatically, and I imagined how the changes would unfold, how our insecurities and vulnerabilities would play out in daily lives.

The next days were filled with anguish and shock at the human loss, and the celebration of the heroes. We watched, but then we couldn't, then we watched again.  My Canadian guests finally arranged their pilgrimage home Friday renting a car in GR to Detroit, walked across the international bridge to Windsor, then a cab to a local car rental where they drove the remainder of the way Quebec City where they were picked up, finally making it home late Sunday….a week later.

We slowly tried to resume normal activity.  But what was normal? What would it look like? I knew whatever it would be, it had little psychological resemblance to my previous life, and I feared what disturbing twists would play in the future.  Little did I know.  

Yes, these are my individual memories.  I think about all the firefighters, first responders, and everyday heroes that sacrificed themselves to help others that day.  I think about the 2,977 people that died, about the last voice mails people left telling someone they loved them.  I think about the last thoughts these souls had before their last breath.  I remember.  And mostly......I think why.