Your #911flashbulb Memories

My flashbulb memory actually took place just before the first plane hit the World Trade Center. 5 minutes before getting to work I turned my car radio off and opened all the windows.  The sky was crystal clear, what would later be called 9/11 weather. It was such a perfect day that I wanted to enjoy a moment of news-radio silence and enjoy the crisp, early fall morning.  My next memory is walking into WBZ’s newsroom and seeing everyone staring at the monitors in disbelief.
 

I had taken my mother to Bermuda, it was the first full day of our 4 day first time ever mother-daughter trip.  We were sightseeing at the old fort when we walked into the restaurant located on site and everyone was glued to the television.   The second plane had just hit, and bystanders were briefly recapping the events for us as we all just stared in disbelief, murmuring the same empty exclamations over and over as a mantra – no one could wrap their head around what had happened.  We were trapped in Bermuda for 8 days, it was strange to be in internationally safe waters when my country had been attacked.  I grew up in New Jersey and lived outside of Boston, and wept for the innocent people.  After finally getting a flight out to Philly and dropping my mother off at home, I had to drive over the Tappan Zee Bridge.  You could see the dark cloud hovering over New York where you normally could see the cityscape.  There were flags on every bridge, hand written signs of national solidarity.  It was heartbreaking, but also made me feel very proud – that our nation could pull together so tightly, so quickly, after this catastrophic event.

I worked at a dot.com agency in the Fenway, in the Landmark Building. The morning of 9/11 I had heard a quick story on WBUR about a plane hitting the World Trade Center just as I was exiting the highway and immediately I imagined a small plane and pilot error, though of course that didn’t really make a lot of sense. The reality was simply unimaginable. By the time I walked into my office about 15 minutes later, everyone was huddled around monitors. Already CNN and other news sites were unavailable. Our group was so used to receiving much of our information over computers and the Internet, and indeed our jobs involved web site creation. On this day, however, we got our information from the radio….WBUR. The big open graphics area in our office was where some 15 or more of us had our desks, and we stood in a circle, facing one another, listening, watching each other’s reactions, nearly immobile in disbelief and grief. Eventually some of us went across the street to the apartment of a friend of one of our colleague’s…this friend didn’t know most of us, yet he opened his door and let a large group of strangers come in and watch his tv. Together, we saw the second tower fall. The first tower we had heard about while back in the circle, over the radio. In many ways the hearing about the first tower was more crushing then the second instance of watching the second tower live. Radio was the most critical line of connection throughout that terrible day.

I took that day off to complete the purchase of a new car later in the day.  I had just dropped my wife off at her office in Hopkinton, and needed to fill up her car with gas.  I stopped at a gas station in South Grafton, got out and went to the pump to start filling.  This guy next to me was listening to WFAN in NY.  Having been born and raised on Long Island, I’m a NY Mets fan and asked what the score was the night before.  He said he didn’t know because they were talking about this plane which had just crashed into the North Tower of the WTC.   I went back into my car and turned on WFAN on my radio.  Having been raised in NY, I remember my parents telling me about when the Empire State Building was struck by a plane.   At first I thought this event might be an accident.  Then I started filling up the tank.  As I was finishing, the second plane hit the South Tower and I remember thinking instantly that it was a terror attack.  Another driver heard the commotion on the radio and asked me what was going on.  I told him that both towers of the WTC had been struck by planes and that it was clear, we were under attack.

I remember when the South Tower fell, the anguish and the pain.  I was shocked.  I thought, maybe they can save the North Tower and at least one of the two will remain standing.  When the North Tower fell, I remember thinking that they had damaged my home…  It was a shock…  I can still feel the blood draining out of my face when these things happened.

That day, we still had to purchase our new car.  The Pike was free of tolls.  But finding a Notary Public to sign some of the purchase documents was more difficult.   We were wondering about getting plates.  We ended up getting the car.  It was bitter sweet because we had a new car for our young family,  but the world had changed.  The kids were excited about the car, something that they could feel.  But they couldn’t understand about terror attacks and the loss of the World Trade Center.

I lived in NYC on 9/11; I’d just turned 23. I’d actually just moved into my apartment in Carroll Gardens the weekend before. I was supposed to take the train to Newark the morning of 9/11 to review a proof of the invitation for my non-profit’s annual gala event.

I remember every detail of that day. I was wearing light blue cotton pants and a white top. The sky was clear – a brilliant blue – but it was hot. Like July hot. By the time I arrived to my office, the first plane had already hit. Our security guard was watching coverage on a tiny black and white TV just outside the inner door of our office space. I thought air traffic control had its signals crossed at La Guardia; it never occurred to me we might be under attack. I was trying to reach my to my then-boyfriend (now husband, Sam) who worked downtown at Lehman Brothers, to see if he knew what was going on, when the second plane hit. I watched it zip through the air and dive and disappear  into the building.

Within minutes, my executive director decided to evacuate our office. We stood on the corner of 55th and 10th ave just waiting. No one knew what to do, so we just sort of stood there not really sure what to think. The images I remember from that day are iconic – thick black smoke against that brilliant blue sky, the towers crashing down – but my sensory memories are much more powerful. They still give me goosebumps. There were sirens, radios blaring, an acrid quality to the air that  caught in your throat. My cell phone didn’t work (no one’s did), so I used a pay phone to call Sam’s roommate Erik to tell him what was happening. I think I told him to turn on CNN. I also called my mom. She told me later I sounded so scared she thought I’d been physically assaulted.

After I reached my mom and Erik, I made my way east and south to Union Square.  I hopped on a bus somewhere in mid-town; it was so crowded and everyone was talking. It seemed entirely plausible that the Empire State Building, Capitol or White House could be next.

I made it back to Sam’s apartment near Union Square. He’d run up the West Side Highway and was fine; we were lucky. For weeks, during long walks around the East Village we’d see home made posters – thousands of them – of men and women who had worked in the towers.  Every poster  had details about the person lost — dad, banking analyst,  light brown hair, played softball, star tattoo on right ankle, scar on left knee.

No one I know died, so in a very real sense, the 9/11 attacks didn’t affect me as much as thousands of others. But these memories still give me chills. I’m still processing what happened that day, what’s happened since and what it means.

I called my dad in Hawaii and woke up he and his wife, my voice was breaking with stressed tears as I told him that apparently terrorists had flown passenger jets into the WTC in New York. They were shocked, but immediately suggested that we pray for the situation, and my dad’s wife, who is a minister, led us in a prayer.