To honor the fifth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, we at the Spectrum share some of our personal memories and reflections from Sept. 11, 2001. Because no editorial or retelling of the day can do justice to the impact that these events had on the world, we share these viewpoints as perspectives to provoke conversation and thought.
Some people have distinct memories of September 11 because they had a direct connection with New York City. They knew someone who worked at the World Trade Center, or they had family who lived in the city - their lives were directly impacted with fear.
Others were struck with a secondary wave of paranoia: family on flights, either cancelled or unaccounted for; close connections to other major landmarks and cities that for the first time seemed like possible targets of another attack.
I didn't know anyone in New York City on 9/11. I didn't know anyone flying on 9/11. What I remember most about that day in history isn't fear for one person - I remember shock that took over the world.
When the news broke, I was sitting in my high school health class. Someone must have turned the TV on, and that was it; everything came to a halt. Everyone sat and stared, fixated on CNN. And after some time passed, the bell rang.
Everyone got up, filed out of the room without speaking, and walked to their next classes... and did it all over again.
The entire day me and my peers and my teachers moved from room to room in a trance. We didn't say a word. We sat down, watched the constant news updates, and moved again at the next bell. When I finally went home, I silently turned on CNN once again and continued where I had left off - waiting for some sort of closure.
Of course the closure didn't come for days and weeks; it never really came at all. Media stopped, entertainment stopped, people stopped. The road to normality was slow and painful, mournful and emotional. What I remember wasn't a personal loss or devastation; what I will never forget is the day the entire world stopped and stared.
Five years ago today was an indecisive and challenging time in my life. I woke up on September 11, 2001 in a jump suit that read "ARMY" across the front. I was in Fort Benning Georgia attending infantry basic training. I had only arrived at basic four days prior and was excited that day of infamy to enter the first phase of my military training.
When entering the service I thought that I would never see the light of war and would probably just train and earn college money. That day I was on the phone with my mom after eating breakfast and was talking to her about how excited I was to come home. During the call is when the first plane hit and the news flashed before my mother's eyes, all she was able to stutter was "a plane has hit a building." That is when the lines went dead and when my life took a dramatic turn.
The basic training barracks were locked down but the rumors were running rampant and we knew that something was happening. We were told in an informational meeting over four hours after the attack what was happening in Washington and New York. The drill sergeants told us that we were going to war and that basic training would be shortened. It was the first time ever that I was scared for my life.
Then I thought about the people that died and realized that I had a chance to help find the terrorists. September 11th took me thousands of miles away from my house and to the war in Afghanistan. On this day I remember the people of New York City and the soldiers who lost their lives and reflect on how one day changed my life forever.
Seeing images of crying victims in the street, the buildings implode and the suffocating plume of smoke will always be an experience I will carry with me, but the one image that is vividly and forever stuck in my mind is of the brave men and women of the fire and police department rushing into the two smoking buildings.
Weeks after the attack, all I could do was think of my dad, a Lieutenant of the Rochester Fire Department. Although he had no involvement in the disaster, it really got me thinking about him and what he does.
When I was a kid, it was so cool to have a dad that drove the bright red fire truck and the dad that arrived at kindergarten show-and-tell in his turnout gear. As I got older, I respected him because he earned a living and lovingly supported his family; but I never thought of him as a 'hero'. He had a job, and worked very hard at that job, but at the end of the day the public, including myself, didn't recognize how tough and how dangerous that job really is.
9/11 opened many eyes to the fact that these servicemen constantly put themselves in harm's way. My dad is still out there everyday putting his all into protecting the homes that we live in, and with the 5th anniversary of 9/11 rolling in, I hope that people will still understand what these fine people do for us.
Three hundred and forty-three firefighters and 37 Port Authority Police Officers lost their lives trying to save the lives of others. They served their country just as passionately and selflessly as any soldier overseas, and I hope that this post-9/11 recognition will continue to give the due respect that these 'everyday heroes' truly deserve.
Hours after the news broke, I still wasn't worried. My father and uncle were in the city for professional reasons, and though they weren't close enough to Greenwich St. to warrant a panic attack, friends said I had reason to indulge in one. I declined.
Well before the tragedy, I began fostering a healthy respect for the ability of people in this country to come together in the face of crisis. I've had faith in my country's ability to keep me and my family safe for a very long time.
When the news came, I sweated a little, but a quick call on a cell phone confirmed my relief.
I still deeply regret the loss felt by so many of my fellow citizens, but I also still enjoy a respect for them and their government that no tragedy can take away.
