September 11th: For Posterity's Sake

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was in my apartment in Central Square in Cambridge getting reading for the first day of my second year of Divinity School.  It was a clear, sunny, blue-sky day, with a hint of crispness promising fall.  Sometimes in the morning I would watch a few minutes of the news on the tv in my room, and at about 8:55am, I turned on CNN. 

Suddenly disorienting pictures of one of the two World Trade Towers and a gaping hole in its side filled the room.  I called to my friend and roommate, Beth, who was in her bedroom, also getting ready to head out to HDS.  She came in, and within a minute, we watched the second plane hit.  With our hands over our mouths and tears already in our eyes, we immediately turned to each other and said, "Bin Laden."  (How we knew that, I'm really not sure.)

After a few more minutes of watching the news, we tore ourselves away from the tv and walked to the T.  Like any other morning, it was packed, standing room only, and given the timing, there were people on the train who did not know anything yet about that morning's horror.  A woman standing next to me and Beth said that she had heard that something had happened and wondered if it was real.  We told her we saw the second plane hit. 

Once we arrived at school, everything had been put on hold.  Televisions had been wheeled out into common spaces, and my community of Christians, Muslims, Jews, Unitarians, Agnostics and Atheists stood together, side by side, as we heard about the Pentagon, Pennsylvania and then watched the towers fall. 

Taking a break from watching news, I started emailing friends in DC and New York.  (Phone lines were down.)  One of those emails was to my future brother-in-law, Ricardo, who worked in the American Express Building, right next door to the World Trade Center.  (He and my future sister-in-law, Alysse, had just moved into their brand new apartment in Battery Park just days before.)  I didn't hear back from Ricardo until October, and not being able to track down Geno, (we weren't really in touch at the time), I was incredibly worried about Rick and Alysse...

That day, however, I did hear back from my dear friend Julie, who although from DC, happened to be visiting a friend in New York that morning.  She wrote:

Hey!

I'm fine and I'm glad you are too!  Are you at home or at school?  GO HOME if you're not there.  I'm in NYC -- 15 blocks from what was the World Trade Center -- with an unobstructed view.  (I just got online at Peter's since all phones are down.)  Haven't stopped crying since 8:45 this morning.  Apparently, DC is just like NYC -- no subways, trains, roads, bridges, etc. are operating.  Life changes in a second. I guess all we can do is pray (and stay safe). 
Love,

-me

The rest of the afternoon was much of a blur.  At some point I felt the need to go home, and for some reason was by myself.  Instead of walking, I decided to take the T, (which was running, also odd), and was one of three people standing in the Harvard Square station.  One of the other two was a girl playing a keyboard, filling the cavernous platform with dissonant "new age" sounds.  Surreal to say the least.

At home that night I finally could get through to my parents.  As we talked and I cried, I distinctly remember saying how scared I was about what was going to happen next.  About more innocent people dying unnecessarily.  I so deeply wish I had been wrong.

In the following days, American flags lined the streets of Massachusetts Avenue, and life was a mixture of grief, confusion, pride, unity, fear and hope.

This morning, September 11, 2011, I spent the early morning hours giving thanks for Mateo and Geno and for my nephews, Jakob and Bennet, who are here today because of Rick and Alysse's ability to stay safe despite being at Ground Zero.  I think of all the families who lost mothers, fathers and children not just on September 11, 2001, but in the war-filled decade that has followed, and cry.

God, grant us peace.