It
was the beginning of my sophomore year in college. The weather
that day was incredible - blue skies with light fluffy clouds
scattered about, and just enough of a hint of autumn to refresh the
soul. I was driving from my home in Nashville to Murfreesboro
(about a 30 minute drive) when I first heard the news.
The
first report seemed rather bland and somewhat uneventful, since early
reports were cautious. My favorite morning show at the time
(John Boy & Billy) interrupted their usual banter to announce
that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. My
initial thought was that it was a small 2-5 seater, not an airliner.
Remembering the first bombing of the WTC, I said aloud to myself
"Can't the twin towers catch a break?"
When
I arrived on campus, I made my way to the University Center where
there were plenty of TVs. Nothing could have prepared me for
the HUNDREDS of students huddled around the big screens in the
student lounge. People I hadn't talked to in years were there,
but the only words any of us had were a perfunctory "hey"
with our eyes never leaving the events unfolding.
By
this time, the second tower had been struck and was billowing that
terrible smoke into the air. When the first tower fell, we
couldn't tell what exactly had happened due to the obscured view of
the smoke; our first reaction was summed up by a girl that
breathlessly asked "Oh my god... did it explode again?"
It was a few minutes later when we realized the tower was gone
completely.
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A
couple of my friends from High School were there, in a fairly empty
room watching the unfolding events. We watched the footage in
New York, DC and PA not really grasping what was happening. The
malaise lasted for days. September 12 came, and it was another
beautiful day for weather - but something was missing. We were
all where we were supposed to be, but it was clear we were all going
through the motions.
I
lived (and still do) live close to the Nashville International
Airport and planes overhead had been a daily routine my entire life.
The silence of the next few days was deafening. Once air
traffic resumed, the slight pang of terror would strike somewhere
deep inside with each passing airliner.
My
questioning of faith, politics and life in general started on that
day in earnest - and it continues today and likely for the rest of my
days.
I was in 8th grade. You're old.
ReplyDeleteI never liked that History teacher.
ReplyDelete