Beliefnet Bloggers Remember September 11th

'History Was Being Made'

Hot, sweaty I came in from a 10-minute run. Wiping my forehead and drinking a large glass of water, I'd neglected to turn off the TV. Absently I observed as the morning show hosts flashed the live picture of the first tower with a large gaping hole. Flames shot from the opening. As we watched, another plane plowed into the second tower. There was a gut wrenching realization that this was a terrorist attack. What I didn't know was that within a few hours I would watch in horror as both towers collapsed. All doubt regarding a systematic attack was erased when news cameras quickly craned on the Pentagon attack. Then the Pennsylvania crash was recorded. Moment by moment, I realized that history was being made. For the first time, the entire world watched as buildings crumbled and planes crashed, dragging our nation into an extended, brutal war.

Linda G. Howard, "A Simple Life, A Childlike Faith"

Brotherly Love

I was born and raised on Long Island and was on my way to my then-job as sports information director at St. Joseph's College in Patchogue, New York when the attacks occurred.

The town I worked in was about an hour outside New York City, but of course New York is New York so were all affected by the events of that day.

I was disappointed the college took a few hours to close that day, but I guess there was a sense of being shell-shocked and not knowing what to do.

I have a brother, Bradley, who knew precisely what to do that day and in the days and weeks after the attacks:

Give.

Bradley, a chef in the city at the time of the attacks was profoundly affected and gave many, many hours of his time preparing meals for the rescue workers who were so valiant in their efforts to help others.

I remain proud of him to this day, as I am proud of the resiliency of so many people in the great state of New York and in Pennsylvania and Washington, D.C., as well.

Thank God for my brother, as well as then-mayor Rudy Guiliani and President George W. Bush.

They all stepped up to keep this nation safe, strong and still a special place to be!

Matt Aug, "Changing Channels"

The Long Ride Home

I live just outside of Washington, D.C. On 9/11/01, I was at my son's school in DC for a meeting of senior parents to talk about college applications. Just as we were finishing, a teacher interrupted us to say that something had happened in New York and we should all go home. The television news kept repeating the little there was to know but we all kept listening as though if we just paid attention it would somehow make sense.

Everything in the area shut down except for the law enforcement, military, government, and media. I went back to school to pick up our son and some of the kids whose parents could not get there. It took a long time to get everyone home. There were roadblocks and detours everywhere and military vehicles with servicemen and women in fatigues, so surreal and out of place in commercial and residential streets.

My husband was on a business trip in Chicago that day. He rented a car and drove without stopping. He dropped off the rental car at the airport, which was still closed. We both remember how spooky it was to be there, the airport otherwise completely empty, the recorded announcements still booming over the speakers with no one to hear them.

Nell Minow, "Movie Mom"

'This Must Be a Movie'

On September 11th, I was working as a social worker in a nursing home in Philadelphia. I had just walked into the dining room in which the Residents were eating breakfast. The television was on and I watched, astonished, as I heard about the first plane hitting the Twin Towers. My initial thought was "This must be a movie." As I was transfixed, the horrifying truth became apparent...this was real. I listen to the words of the journalist who was doing his job, reporting the news story of the century; something that most people could never have imagine occurring here. Once the surrealistic impression had sunk in, I looked around the room. Blessedly, most of the Residents had no clue what was going on. There is something to be said for dementia. The staff was in tears, hugging each other. I decided that I wasn't going to give the terrorists my fear. Ten years later, I am in awe of how resilient people are and how, when faced with crisis, we can rise to the occasion and take care of each other. My prayer then and my continued intention, is that we learn to live in peace and choose love over fear.

Edie Weinstein, "The Bliss Blog"

Carrying Candles

On 9/11 I watched smoke rising from my window. Fear paralyzed me, knowing my city was attacked. We had a thunderstorm during the night and I woke up screaming, thinking it was bombs. The next night I walked downtown but couldn¹t look south at the empty skyline. They said they needed used laptops. I offered to get them. God would help me.

As I walked home in the dark, people carried candles. Camaraderie flowed through everyone. It truly was a beautiful experience in the midst of tragedy. We were all family who had been attacked!

I sent an email to everyone I knew asking for help getting laptops. It was forwarded around the world. I heard from the heads of major companies who wanted to help and became the go-to person for available supplies and office space. Correspondence with the team‹all of whom were heads of Time Warner, IBM, etc.‹included me, journalist with an ear to ground zero! For a month I worked to get the supplies funneled. When they called for specific needs, God guided me to the right people to call. It was an honor to serve my city.

Daylle Deanna Schwartz, "Lessons from a Recovering Doormat"

Moved to Tears

I don’t have an especially dramatic 9/11 story to tell, no more than anyone else who lived somewhere other than New York or D.C. (or Boston or Pennsylvania) that day. Like most people, I watched everything on a TV in my office. I was working as a designer and copywriter for a marketing company in Texas. We didn’t get much work done.

What I remember most was coming home that evening to hang out with my wife and our 17 month-old daughter. Ellie had just discovered crayons and coloring books. We were working on some kitty cat pictures on the floor of our living room. The TV was on. The local 6 o’clock news was ending, to be followed by more network coverage, and more devastating footage. When the local anchorman signed off, his voice broke. I looked up. The camera cut away as he wiped his eyes.

I looked back down at Ellie's coloring book and picked up another crayon. Then, like the anchorman, I cried, too. For the people who’d died, and for the nation I loved, and for her future—the brightness of which had just dimmed a little. Or maybe a lot. My heart broke.

She didn’t notice. She just kept coloring.

Jason Boyett, "Dadequate"

Finding Healing in Tradition

On 9/11, I was a first grade teacher at a Jewish day school in Massachusetts. With no media devices other than a single radio, we learned of the events in fits and starts, and said nothing to the children.

The next day, we gathered together for morning prayers. 9/11 fell during the Hebrew month of Elul, when it is a tradition to sound the shofar, an ancient wind instrument made from a ram’s horn, each morning. The shofar recalls moments of immense joy in Jewish history - receiving the Torah on Mt Sinai and the welcoming of the new year, Rosh Hashanah. It also evokes times of unspeakable grief - the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, and the day Abraham was called to sacrifice his only son. It reminds us of God's strength, and the tears of our people. It symbolizes the prophetic call for justice, and the promise of a messianic age. It urges us to repent, and it exhorts us to have faith.

With the sounding of the shofar that morning, we took our place amongst the generations of Jews who witnessed unspeakable horrors in their own times and persevered. After the service, our students went back to math lessons and handwriting practice, lunch boxes and rest mats, games of tag and four square, and life went on - quiet proclamations of incredible faith.

Amy Meltzer, "Homeshuling"

A New Horizon

I was working just outside of DC, when my co-worker got a phone call that a plane went into the World Trade Center. Like everyone else, I thought it was an accident. When word began to spread of a second plane, we all gathered around a television in the breakroom where the Today Show was airing the footage again and again in disbelief. On my way back to my desk, I saw co-workers looking out the windows, pointing and gasping. Off in the horizon, there was a huge mushroom cloud of smoke. The Pentagon was hit and we could see the aftermath. Rumors were flying that there were bombs at the State Department and other planes on the way. People were being told to flee the city and you could see traffic jammed going north on Wisconsin Avenue for hours. Another co-worker received a panicked voicemail from her roommate who worked on Capitol Hill saying to stay out of DC and that it was utter chaos. We were all trying to call family members to make sure everyone was safe but the lines were busy and overloaded. A haze stayed over the Virginia horizon for another couple of weeks. Even though we didn’t know what was going on, we knew things would never be the same.

Jennifer E. Jones, "The Inspiration Report"

The 150-Block Walk

On 9/11, I was a month into graduate school at Columbia University, living in uptown Manhattan while my boyfriend -- and future husband -- had started working downtown, living a few blocks from the World Trade Center. He called me when he saw the first crash; he thought it was a small plane, not realizing the scale of the towers, and assumed the pilot had suffered a heart attack or stroke. When the second plane struck outside his window, he realized it was an attack, rushed outside and started walking more than 150 blocks to me. My roommate and I sat glued to the TV, afraid to even go to the bathroom in case we missed an update. My dust-covered boyfriend stumbled in hours later.

We joined the long lines of people trying to give blood, as it slowly, tragically dawned on everyone that none was needed.

Over the next few days, we walked numbly around the city, overwhelmed by the strange smell in the air and all the "missing" posters, trying to avoid looking south at the gaping hole in the skyline -- but unable to help ourselves.

Nicole Neroulias Gupte, "Belief Beat"