It was just an ordinary, beautiful September morning in Mississauga. Breakfast was done, my three girls (3 years, 18 months and 2 1/2 months) were watching a favorite cartoon, and I was checking e-mail. I heard my brother-in-law come in, but wasn’t too surprised. He and my husband work together and their office was having a work day. He’d probably come to get some tools. Well, that was true, but one look at him and I knew something was going on. His eyes were wide, and in a hushed, urgent voice, he said that on the way over, he’d heard that a plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Towers minutes ago. Had I heard anything?
My first thought was “Oh, that’s too bad,” and envisioned a small Cessna clipping the Tower. I made a stupid joke about an air traffic controller who was going to get fired, then went to check online for information. As I went from site to site – CNN, ABC, NBC, CBS, Fox -- and found them all overloaded, I began to get some sense of the magnitude of what had taken place. I finally got onto MSNBC Money, and while it gave me some information, at this point, I wanted more.
Sorry kids, cartoon time is over. I hardly left that spot in front of the TV for the next two days. I tuned into the CBC coverage just after the 2nd plane had hit. Nothing I'd read prepared me for my first glimpses of the towers. I knew immediately that we were at war, but I wasn’t sure who had declared it. I was also worried about a cousin who I knew lived in Brooklyn; I wasn’t sure where she lived or worked in relation to the Towers. I felt horrible for the people on the planes and those who were in the impact areas, but figured those who were above and below would probably be able to get out. Then the Pentagon was hit. I’d lived most of my life in the DC area, and knew people who worked there and at other potential targets in the area. What would be attacked next? There were rumors of other unaccounted airplanes. Life had changed forever.
Then the Towers fell. I was watching live coverage when both fell, and those were the most wrenching, agonizing moments I’ve experienced. The reality of the possible cost of tens of thousands of lives, and the shattering of the lives around them was too overwhelming to absorb. I recoiled in horror and disbelief. Tears suddenly streamed unbidden and unchecked, as if that was the only way my mind could register the scene before me. “No! Dear God, no! That can’t have just happened!” But I couldn’t deny what I saw, and now what should I say to my 3 year old who was urgently asking me what was wrong? How could I tell her that in an instant, the whole world had changed, and would never be the same again? The world she would know could be very different than what I had known. At that point, there was no way of knowing what this war would bring – would it be East vs. West and a conflict such that my Arabic speaking, ex-Army husband would feel he needed to re-enlist? I couldn’t let myself think too much about the possible ramifications of the day – they were too overwhelming. I felt this would be the defining point of my generation, much like Pearl Harbor was 2 generations ago. We had already lost much, and the cost for finishing this unprovoked war would be even higher. But it would have to be done.
I remember being furious at the news outlets for broadcasting the locations of the President’s plane as they found it. What idiots! If we are at war, won’t that help the people who are already attacking us? Who knew at that point if this was just the first wave of a more sustained attack? There were rumors that a fourth plane was also directed at Washington, DC, for either the White House or Capitol, and of a car bomb at the State Department. The attacks were so devastating and pointed, I felt it might be just the beginning. But as the day went on, nothing else happened (other than Flight 93 crashing into a Pennsylvania field). Some of the initial fear dissipated. And my macabre sense of humor surfaced again – I pictured Al Gore as more than a little relieved that he’d lost last November!
I’d lived in Canada, just outside of Toronto, for 4 years, and have always been the kind of person who loves where they are and doesn’t tend to think about what they left. I’d never been homesick for the USA – until September 11, 2001. It sounds a bit strange to wish to be in a target zone, but all I wanted was to be back in DC where I could be with people who really understood how I felt about the places I knew so well. On the scale of loss, mine was pretty insignificant. No family or friends killed or injured, none in active duty overseas. But life is not back to whatever “normal” was -- it never will be. And so we go on.
Copyright©2002 Beth Bryant All rights reserved