Every generation experiences certain days that have a lasting impression on
all of its members and changes their lives for better or worse. For my parents’
generation there would be days such as when President Kennedy was assassinated
or when John Lennon was murdered. My generation has not had very many of these
days. We were too young to understand the Challenger explosion. And we were
too concerned with typical teenager things to pay much attention to the Oklahoma
City bombing. But on September 11th, 2001, a tragedy occurred that will be remembered
by all generations. This is a story of my life that day.
It was not a beginning to a typical day in my life. After spending the better
part of the year locked in my apartment and refusing to leave, I was scheduled
see a psychiatrist in Mobile, Alabama that morning. I had not slept well the
night before, fears of being declared insane and locked in an institution running
through my mind.
My alarm clock was set to wake me up at ten a.m., but I did not sleep that long.
With my eyelids desperately trying to close themselves, I looked at my clock
and saw that it was 9:15am. When the phone rang again, I realized what had awakened
me. With a groan, I reached for the phone, assuming that it was my mother since
she was driving me to the doctor’s office.
“Hello,” I said, though at this time of morning it probably sounded
more like a wookie’s mating call.
“Are you watching the news?” my mother said in an excited voice.
After my negative reply, she said, “Two planes have crashed into the World
Trade Center! They were showing one plane hitting one of the towers on the Today
show when another one crashed into the other tower.
As the lead weights fell from my eyes, I quickly searched for the remote to
the TV in my bedroom. When the image appeared on the screen, it looked as if
one tower was on fire, but the other appeared fine. That was when the fireball
appeared. The news channel was showing a replay of the second plane crash and
not a live shot.
As the channel switched to a live shot, I was struck by the impression of two
ghastly cigarettes sticking up from the earth. Both of the towers were giving
off massive column of grey and black smoke. When my mind finally got over the
shock, I said into the phone, “This can’t be an accident, it has
to be terrorists.”
After we had both watched in silence for a few more minutes, my mother reminded
me about my appointment. Since the state was paying for the doctor and it had
taken the state agency several months to set it up, we did not want to cancel
it. My mother told me to go ahead and get ready and we would leave in around
an hour.
Hanging up the phone, I decided to take a shower and see if there was any new
information afterwards. When I was done showering and had sat back down in front
of the television, the screen was no longer showing New York City. It was now
showing a picture of the Pentagon in Washington, DC. As the announcer talked
of rescue efforts, it became clear that another plane had crashed, this time
into the center of our military’s administration, the Pentagon itself.
Shortly thereafter, the news switched to a burning crater in a field somewhere
in rural Pennsylvania. This was a fourth plane to be used in the attack, although
why it had crashed nobody had knew. There were just guesses at this point.
I continued to watch the news coverage as I got dressed. The images changed
frequently on the screen switching from experts to live scenes of the towers
or replays of the plane crashing into the buildings. This continued steadily
until during one interview with an expert, the news anchor interrupted the expert
and the screen switched back to a live shot of the towers. With a gasp of horror,
I watched as one of the towers slowly imploded. A few minutes later, its twin
joined it, becoming a mass of rubble thousands of feet below.
Not long after the second tower fell, my mother arrived to pick me up. She had
been listening in the car on the radio and knew what had happened. After seeing
footage of the replay and the apocalyptic scenes at ground level, we decided
we should leave for the doctor before we were late.
The drive down was sad and somber but thankfully uneventful. As we drove, we
listened to news reports on the radio. There was not much new information, and
it was clear that the media knew as little as we did.
Upon arriving in Mobile, we decided to stop and try to get a bite to eat at
the Olive Garden since we did not know how long the appointment would take.
I do not remember what we ordered, but I do remember that neither of us ate
much and brought most of it home in a carry-out box.
The doctor’s office was only a few miles from the restaurant. It was not
a very large office and looked more like a small duplex house than a traditional
doctor’s office. The wait was only a few minutes long before I was escorted
into a back room and seated across from a middle aged man of medium height with
black hair. This was the man I had come to see, the doctor.
The doctor began to ask me questions in a nice manner. Mainly the questions
were about my habits and my fears, especially my fears. After the questions
he had me perform some tests with colored blocks and asked me to match his patterns.
After that, he gave me a long test to take almost like some sort of Society
Entrance Exam.
When all the tests were finished, the doctor told me that he believed I had
a type of agoraphobia, a fear of going outside. He said he would be sure when
he went over the results of the test. After a few more questions, he told me
not to worry. I then made my goodbyes and my mother and I left to return home.
Thankfully, the trip home was as uneventful as the trip there. After reaching
home, I said goodbye to my mother and went to sleep very early that night. It
had been a short day but it had felt like an eternity.
In the following days and weeks we learned more about what happened on September
11th. On the other hand, we never learned about my trip to the doctor. My test
results had apparently become the victim of some malevolent filing cabinet.
Since then, many people have sought closure to the events on September 11th.
I too have sought closure of a different kind. I still fight daily against my
personal demons, but I feel I am finally winning the fight. The person who woke
up that morning, saw those ghastly images, and made the long sad trip seeking
salvation is not the same person who went to bed the night before. Since that
day, I have been slowly changing for the better. I am now going to college after
a nine year absence from academics. And the truth is that I am scared to death,
but each day I make it is another ray of hope. It is yet another day in the
new life that began over a year ago. I hope to make the best of this one.
Copyright 2004© Sean Kelly