I fell asleep Monday night with the radio on - I remember being half asleep hearing about a fire and explosion at the World Trade Center and wondering why they were repeating old news from the 90's.

No, I'll always remember. And who exactly is asking me to remember? Seems far more voices are telling me to let go of my anger, move on and heal. The hell with that.

I was in a women's literature class and the lecture that particular day was on fiction in the 15th century. I'm as big a book nerd as anyone, but somehow after my professor announced the attacks at the beginning of class, nothing felt sillier than sitting and listening to her lecture for the next two hours.

The other two classes I had that day were cancelled. Thank goodness.

"Have you been listening to the news?" She asked me. By the tone of her voice, I knew it wasn't a wacky fluff story. Two planes had hit the World Trade Center in New York and one flew into the Pentagon. This was not an accident.
I got in the car and turned on the radio trying to find some news. I didn't have to try very hard. Every station was live and running. Peter Jennings was describing all the smoke and debris in the air. One of the building had supposedly collapsed, but that couldn't be right. Well, as I drove, I found that it WAS correct.
At every stoplight, people in the other cars looked shell-shocked, stunned and lost. A few were smiling and bopping their heads, lost in a bubble of pre-recorded music, unaware that the world had changed. They'd know soon enough.
At home watching the TV coverage. The repeated footage of a plane hurtling full speed into a concrete monolith. People falling from windows, choosing a certain immediate death rather than a slower, more painful one.
Split screens showing the Pentagon in flames and people on city streets running from a giant malevolent cloud.
Everyone wondering, "What next"?

Six years later. We cluck over a silly congressman in a bathroom, a silly pop star's TV performance and how bored we are with a silly war in a far-off country.

But many of us have forgotten that day. Sure, there will be speeches, observances, and flags at half-staff, but for most, the impact is mostly gone. It's taken on the emotional weight of just another chapter in a history book.

What next?

I had recently begun teaching in a private high school that prided itself on being free of rules and was already full of chaos. During one of the morning breaks another teacher who was surfing the news sites mentioned an airplane crashing into the World Trade Center, and I thought back to an accident that had happened a few years back close to home: a private plane crashing into a TV station tower; the pilot had died. Just another one of those things. During the next period, the students in the classroom next door burst in asking if they could use our television. They were always interrupting, so I didn't think anything about it. There was an explosion in NY, they said. So we all watched it together. Half an hour later I was running around the halls calling the different classes to an assembly, assuming that everyone had joined in the bedlam by now. But I was met with disbelief from math teacher who had no idea what the rest of the school had been doing. She thought it was a joke. "It's war!" I told them, just to set her straight. Suddenly, one of the students burst into tears, and I felt horrible. The school year pretty much went downhill from there.

I was in my office, about 20 miles from NYC, in Northern NJ. A few of us were "early birds," regularly arriving at about 8:30, and most of our colleagues didn't get in until 9:00 or so. I was sitting at my desk, by the window, just getting into the start of a gorgeous late-summer morning's workload, when one of the department heads came by with a transistor radio, and said "You might want to listen to this; a plane just crashed into the World Trade Center." He was a big joker, and I thought he was pulling my leg, but then we started listening. Of course, like most people, we assumed it was a small plane that had somehow crashed into the tower by accident. Seemed odd that that would happen, what with the perfect weather and clear skies, and we kept listening. I tried to get the NY Times or CNN websites, but they were jammed up; I realized later that they just couldn't handle the massive number of people trying to get through.

We were all just listening to the radio, wondering what on earth was going on, when the second plane hit, and of course we all knew it was a planned attack, and everything had changed. Someone got the big-screen TV in the conference room turned on to the news, and some people gathered to watch. I couldn't stand being in the room, so I just went back to my desk and kept the radio on. It was tuned to WCBS, one of the local news stations, and a woman reporter was at the scene. All of a sudden, I heard her completely lose her composure, and start screaming into the microphone, "OH MY GOD, THE BUILDING'S COMING DOWN, THE WHOLE BUILDING'S COMING DOWN!!!" It was the first time I remember a reporter losing their cool, and it was shocking.

I left the office and went to the local blood bank, where there was a line of people out the door and down the block. They sent me away, saying they just couldn't handle the numbers, and to come back later.

Finally, at about 3:00, I told my boss I was going home; no work was going to get done that day anyway. I took my usual route, heading up Route 17 in Ramsey, NJ. From the top of a hill on that highway, you can see the NYC Skyline. I had looked at it countless times on my way to work. I stopped the car and got out; there were a dozen or so people doing the same thing. I looked where the Towers had been, and saw a pillar of smoke and ash rising to twice what their height had been.

I got home, hugged my wife and kids, and put my American flag out. I think it was the first time my son saw his Dad cry.

I was standing in the doorway of a complete stranger's house in the extreme northeast of Phoenix AZ...

I'm a painting contractor, and on the morning of 9/11 I had just begun to refinish the entry door of a new customer's house. The customer called me into the kitchen to see something on TV, that something was the smoking behemoth of the first tower. We speculated and wondered at it for what seemed like hours, when the second plane hit--The realization then was instantaneous; It was an attack.

I'm not sure how long I sat in the customer's kitchen before I told her I would have to leave, but the sensation is not one I ever want to relive. There are spooky feelings that can be shook off, this wasn't one of them.

I too lived in the flight path of a major airport, though 20 miles from that airport. Life without an aircraft overhead brought on a sensation akin to deafness. We had the Confederate Air Force flying out of Mesa just to the southwest, a huge volume of commercial aircraft in and out of Sky Harbor, a veritable beehive of helicopters in the air at all times. And suddenly nothing. F-16 patrols were the only air traffic we saw for what felt like weeks (was it weeks?)...

9/11 was the trigger that had me move my family back to Minnesota.

God forbid we tire of remembering this...

In my car, during the short jaunt to work, the DJs were downplaying it. I got to work and went to a political forum online, one that was always ahead of the jump.

I was shocked and numb. We turned on the television at the office for more. The Rector of the church called in around 9:45 and after 20 seconds of conversation I knew he didn't know.

"Sam, have you seen the news this morning?" I asked.
"No...what..." was his impatient reply.
"Turn on your TV, Sam. The world is falling apart."

Hi James, great film 9/11. What is the music playing throughout?
Thanks
Wendy

We were home and my husband had NPR on in his office. I remember the soothing tones of Carl Kasell mentioning something about a plane that had hit the World Trade Tower. The tone of his voice implied that it was just small aircraft. I thought it was just an event that makes you go "huh, how 'bout that". Then a friend called...

Our daughter was in first grade. We turned off the television when she came home from school that day. That evening and for several nights, we watched our daughter's favorite Shirley Temple movies instead of network television. Watching those movies was bittersweet because their innocence was such an aching contrast to the real world.

I'll never tire in answering that question.

I was working at Chrysler Corporation. I was sitting in my small cubicle doing general ledger posting when someone said, "Hey, a plane slammed into one of the Twin Towers in NY". I immediately thought, "Hmm... didn't that happen to the Empire State Building once?". I was thinking that it was a small single engine. Then, the same person came in and said another plane had hit and that these were commercial aircrafts. I turned in my chair and I kid you not, I thought, "... terrorists". But, I credit that to have seen too many movies. The other two crashes just seemed like a blur, but continued to make me think about it being terrorists.

Around 11, the big boss came in and said that we were shutting down for the day. All of Chrysler Corp was shutting down for the day all over the country for security reasons.

I went home and watched it on TV and cried. I went and said a prayer, and just kept the TV on all day. I felt numb for a week after. It all seemed like a bad movie.....A bad movie or a bad dream, and I desperately wanted someone to just shake me and say, "Hey, its not real. The people are all really okay... it was all fake..."

But...

I vaguely remember what I was doing or where I was on that dreadful day. I do remember that I had recently become unemployed and I believe I was on my way to the local unemployment office. I had found a few job postings on the Department of Labor's website, and at the time you could not apply for an online referral. You had to report to the local office, and request a referral card. The card had a bit more information, mainly the name of the company that you were applying to, and the contact person. The employee at the office would write something on there, like if the company asks you to fax a resume, with the fax number, or e-mail address, or if you need to apply in person.

I had turned on the radio and the morning DJs were somewhat downplaying it like the DJ mentioned in another comment above. They were saying that it looked like a scene from one of the Die Hard or some other action movie. They turned up the volume of the TV in their studio, and I thought, "that's no movie." Suddenly getting a job referral wasn't all that important. I made a U-turn and headed back home. I turned on the TVs in the living room, my bedroom, my grandmother's bedroom (I was living with her at the time, and she was at work), and the kitchen.

I can't really recall what emotions I felt that day. I don't think I can even name them. I would guess shock, fear, stunned, and anger would have to suffice. It's sort of the same feeling you get when you've been in a car accident and you've survived. You tend to shake all over.

The next day I remember going to the store, in the pretense that things would end up like how they did with World War II, with the food rationing. I bought probably about $200 worth of canned vegetables.

I recall there were fears that other major cities might be targeted, including Atlanta, St. Paul, Los Angeles, etc. My grandmother and I lived about 30 miles from the city limits of Atlanta. That, to me, was still a bit too close to the action. My parents had said if anything should happen we can pack up our clothes, grab the pets, and run like hell (OK, drive) to their farm that was about an hour away. I think if we had to, I would have said to heck with speed limits. We're getting the heck out of Dodge before it hits the fan.

I was in the car on the way to work. When I heard "a plane hit the world trade center", in my confusion I first thought it was the building in St Paul - mostly because my husband was in a meeting in THAT building a day or two earlier. It took me a few minutes to figure out they were talking about the NY building(s).

I was working at UMD at the time. They decided NOT to shut down the school for the day, but I don't think the day was very productive. Some of the students I work with had friends or familiy who were in the affected area and unreachable at the time. My mom called (from Wyoming - state) to check that I was ok and to see if they were going to send us home. (I hadn't thought about the danger of the ports in Duluth until she mentioned it.)

I think the most emotional time for me was when we went to the first Gopher football game played after that day. It was the first "memorial" I had been to, and the opening ceremonies of the game were very difficult.

I'm in my early 30s, and I think this was the first
"disaster" that really deeply affected me. A lot of those feelings came back to me when the 35W bridge collapsed last month. I think I have a deeper appreciation for the 2001 NYC residents after the bridge collapse - even if they didn't know anyone personally involved, it's horrifying that it happened in your own backyard.

I was coming out of the Union Square subway station on my second day of a new job. It was the most gorgeous September day. I saw a big crowd of people on University Place. Thinking someone was filming something (it's often used that way), I asked a random guy what was going on. He told me that a plane had just crashed into World Trade Center. I said, "You're kidding." He said, "No, look." And I did. There was the tower with a huge black hole. I thought what a terrible accident (remembering the small plane crashing into the Empire State building) and went on to work. Well, then the rest of the nightmare happened, and we were evacuated (I work for a Jewish school and they thought that we might be a target). I was lucky to get home late that afternoon during one of the tiny windows of opportunity when the train to Astoria was running. Even though I was lucky not to be directly touched, I still can't watch documentaries or fiction films about it.

I rented "Flight 93" this weekend. Watching it brought back all the emotions I experienced on 9/11 -- sadness, shock, horror, and anger.

Mostly anger. Why is it, after all these years, we have not been able to capture and kill the thug responsible for the horrors of that day?

Where were you when you heard?

I was driving from Newark, Ohio to Bloomington, Indiana.
Just south of Columbus I listened to some snarky/snooty NPR commentator going on and on about how "quaint" were the President's pronunciation of various words . . . I occasionally wonder what happened to that person. . . like maybe they were later crushed under a plummeting Mosler safe. . .
I was just past Cincinnati, Ohio when Daniel Schorr made a very terse announcement on the radio that a large airliner had collided with one of the World Trade Center towers.
I thought, "Incredibly bad weather . . . ?"
At Greensburg, Indiana I stopped for gasoline and saw the weather in NYC was perfect - and a second airplane had struck the second tower. No denial of what was happening was any longer possible.

Are you tired of being asked to remember?

I am tired of being told to forget.

I was in the office that morning when I received an e-mail about the first plane. As some posters above mentioned, it was thought to be a small plane. We started listening to the radio and someone turned on the TV in the conference room. E-mails started to come quickly. Phones were ringing from loved ones - are you all right? I work in Florida for a company headquartered in Manhattan. We looked out our window on the 11th floor, looking at downtown Tampa and the skyline. I wondered about those buildings. The airport is just accross the street from our building. PatrickRsGhost summed it up best for me - like you've been in a car accident and survivied, shaking all over. My mom lives in Arlington Virginia and when I heard about the Pentagon (which is actually in Arlington) I got very nervous and called her. We closed early that day. I watched TV at home until late that night. Things would really never be the same.

I was at work, for a stock trading partnership, when we saw the futures market fall off a cliff so we turned on CNBC to see the first tower smoking like a chimney. We watched the second plane hit, and unlike many other people I didn't immediately understand it was deliberate. Or rather my brain refused to believe what my eyes just saw, because it was impossible that anybody would do that. Then came the news at the Pentagon.

Home was about four miles from the office, both near Dulles Airport, next-door neighbors to DC. The silence of commercial air traffic was deafening, but high, high up the sound of fighters patrolling the air space around Washington was reassuring and shocking.

Obviously we didn't do any trading but some friends turned up when their offices closed for the day (there were lots of rumors and some bomb threats) and we hardly took our eyes off the TV hour after hour.

As for that night, Alan Jackson's song hits the nail on the head: Did you close your eyes and not go to sleep?

And no, I'm not tired of being asked to remember. As so many others have said, we forget at our peril.

Navy boot camp.

The girl in the rack below me knew her dad was at a meeting in the Army section of the Pentagon. (He broke his leg helping an office lady out.)

A guy who graduated boot camp in the same bunch lost everyone on his mom's side of the family except his mother-- they had a family restaurant in one of the towers. He refused to leave boot camp, even for the funerals, because he wanted to go out and DO something, rather than just go grieve for a week or two-- they even offered to let him out of the Navy entirely.

On the 12th, someone who knew I'd joined ask my mom if she was "still glad" I'd joined the Navy, now that it wasn't such a "safe" job. My mom-- God bless her-- managed not to beat the daylights out of the woman, and informed her that I'd known I was joining the *military*, not day camp.

I have never regretted joining, although I am out now. (Kids are more important than one more military body. ;^p)

I was working on Parliament Hill for an MP and we had the tv on all the time, every day for news. We sat and watched and talked about it and then I cried and watched some more. Finally, an announcement came that everyone was asked to leave the Hill and go home for security reasons. We heard nothing from our then Prime Minister. On the 14th, a spontaneous memorial service was organized on the Hill and thousands of regular people showed up to sing your national anthem. I cried some more. I have a friend who lives in Nova Scotia and she remembers the airplanes, parked wing to wing at the Halifax airport. And don't forget all the planes in Gander, Newfoundland.

I will never forget.

Right here is where I was sitting. On the corner of my couch with a cup of coffee and no TV. My son came running back into the house; I thought he had left for school.

"Something BAD is happening in New York - this is BAD...." he yelled and grabbed the remote.

We saw the second plane crash.

I had a class in Advanced Pediatric Life Support that day. I drove in total shock except for the tears I couldn't stop. The receptionist at the Consortium was in a panic; her brother worked at the WTC (was not there - survived). Class was cancelled.

I tried to enlist in every single one of the services. I was 44 at the time and an experienced emergency nurse - I was ready to go anywhere and do anything. I was too old, they said. My kids were too little for the first gulf war and now I was ready to go and I was too old.

I'd enlist today and head straight to Iraq if I could.

I saved every magazine, every newspaper. I cried for days.

It's an ache that still exists. James, your coverage of the footage should be seen at least once a week. There are people who have forgotten, we saw them in the hearings yesterday.

God help Osama the day we get him. And we will.

Another comment jogged my memory on something. I remember as we heard the news of one plane after another, I remember that at that very moment, we didn't know who was behind this and what else would happen. That's why we were sent home from work. We didn't know if this was just the beginnings of a full blown attack, that our systems would be hacked, or what.

Someone mentioned thinking about WWII rationing. I've always been into WWII history and at one point, I thought something along that lines later as things started to unravel.

As stories were told of the heroism of those who died on flight 93 and those who gave their lives while saving others, the anger is still as fresh today as it always was. I'm angry that those heroic people are still not with us. Todd Beamer should still be at home with his family. The firefighters and policemen should still be having a bagel right about now and getting ready for their day.

They were heroes, they were born heroes, but the fact that they're not here, still and always will make me angry.

Two blocks south of the WTC, in a meeting on the 15th floor. When the second plane hit (closer to my building), we heard it. There was a TV on, and it was almost disorienting watching it on television while experiencing it live. When the first tower fell, the rattle rolled through us - someone jumped under a desk. A few of the women began to cry, as we tried to figure what was next. People who had been outside came rushing into the lobby, while people inside rushed out to see what could be done.

I walked outside and headed north. It was incomprehensible. Ash everywhere in clouds. I remember shoes all over the place. "Why shoes?", I thought. Apparently they were from people's desks - lots of office workers would change into "work" shoes when arriving in the morning. For some reason many of these shoes were not vaporized.

As I reached Liberty St., I stopped and stared at something that made no sense. How could they be gone? How could they not be there anymore?

I was in my basement, putting the finish coats on several wood shtenders that I had just made. (A shtender is a portable podium that Orthodox Jews use to put our books on as we stand when praying or learning.)
The week before Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, we say special prayers, called Selichos, in the early morning before regular prayers. September 11th was the third day of saying Selichos.
Today, September 11th, also happens to be the 3rd day of Selichos (the Jewish calendar is lunar, so it changes every year)
This is one prayer that struck me then, as it did this morning - Selichah 9:

"I, on the day I am afraid, I call to You,
let not the wanton forsakers the precious [Torah] victimize me.
Pay them their due, [when you] sit [in judgement] to examine
the wicked and evil decree promulgated at their councils.
They plot to make [us] oblivious of the holy, revered Name,
and to accustom us to an unclean name of vile idolatry.
This method of theirs has ruined the best of our people;
Save the remnant from being crushed [like olives] in the press.
They have learned to rend human prey, as stated [by the prophet]
[And] they cast lots, as if for a thing left ownerless in the desert.
They almost destroyed [us], and indeed spared no effort,
but for your mercy, Lord Who leads with kindness......."

In 2001, the computer was close by in the basement and I clicked on various news topics as I repositioned the shtenders so that things would download while I worked.
I was mostly searching for news on Israel - it was right before Rosh Hoshana and the Arabs called Palestinians were currently going through another round of bloody suicide bombings but, one little item on the Yahoo home page intrigued me - It said "Plane crashes into the World Trade Center."
I clicked on the story.
It wouldn't come up.
I clicked again a few minutes later. It still wouldn't come up.
Ehh... they probably were referring to the World trade towers or whatever they were called, in Singapore...
My wife, listening to the radio upstairs, yelled down to me something incomprehensible. I yelled "What?" She yelled at me to turn on the television.
I turned on the television...

I watched jet number two. I watched as the Pentagon came into the news. I watched for the next two hours.
The surreal "blow em up movie" like quality struck me over and over and over again. It was a very sad movie. It was a very bad movie.
I called my mother and father to tell them I loved them.

During the day, I talked to my friends. One of the members of our community who works in the World Trade Center overslept Tuesday morning. Another woman, who just moved to New Jersey, got a brand new job at the World Trade Center that week. Tuesday was her first day. She got off the bus downtown and saw a plane collide with the Tower. She got back on the bus and went back uptown. Later, she spent the day collecting money for all of the people who fled with absolutely nothing, so they could get home.
Another friend of mine told me to make sure my passport was in order as I might want to be leaving here rather suddenly because when things go this wrong are and are this bad, the world blames the Jews. I strongly disagreed with him. I told him that it couldn't happen in America....
I got my passport ready....
I told another friend who was not Jewish that this is what Israel goes through every day. She responded that there are terrorists on both sides of the question in Israel.
"There are terrorists on both sides of the question in Israel..."
This person is one of the kindest, most tolerant people I have ever known in this world. I explained to her how utterly wrong she was - as Manhattan burned, neither one of us wanted to argue, and she agreed that she was wrong.
The Israeli's have been wrong. They have been mean and pig-headed. There have been a few murderers hiding out amongst those out on the toe-to-toe borders with their Palestinian neighbors. But, "terrorists on both sides of the question in Israel?"
No.
There are brave, valiant and strong human beings who struggle daily to defend themselves from Evil that has vowed to murder them; to destroy them; to obliterate them; to hurt and maim and kill them for its own pleasure; for the pure sake of Evil.....

Evil is not like us.
I have done bad things. So have other people. So has the United States government. So has Israel. But not this Evil.
Hitler, may his name be obliterated, was Evil. The Allies fought Evil in World War II. They destroyed Evil then because they had to. They had no choice.
These Islamic death cultists who attacked the United States were Evil (and they are now dead, thank G-d).

At 11:00 AM, on September 11th, 2001, I knew that this Evil must be wiped out and I was afraid.
I was afraid that our government, the government of the United States of America, would not not wage the same total war that we waged during World War Two, regardless of the consequences.
At 11:00 AM, on September 11th, I thanked G-d that George W. Bush was President of the United States.
I had voted for Al Gore...
On September 11th, I knew that, whatever his other failings were, I wanted a leader in office who would not hesitate to use the full force and might of the United States to attack any place in the world that supported this kind of Evil.
I knew that my children; my wife; my closest friends; my community; and my country are direct targets for these monsters. If these Islamist scum are not stopped dead, one might as well paint a big red bullseye on my house. Because this particular Evil was out to kill me, personally .... And that is a bad thing.
My fears turned out to be well founded.

These are two quotes from the Letters to the Editors page in the Minneapolis Star Tribune that appeared that week:
"The problem all along has been that evil visited upon a people has been interpreted a proof of the victim's absolute good."
"Rather than asking ourselves, 'What should we do next?' and without much consideration coming to the conclusion that we should go to War!, we should instead be asking ourselves, 'What have we done?' and 'What are we?' We need to come to understand what it is about America and our arbitrary international policies that has produced such extreme hostility towards this nation."

The above bizarre quotes have turned into a raging disease that has infected the Democratic Party and a large portion the people in the United States of America.

I find far more comfort in the quotes from the movie "World Trade Center," where Dave Karnes, a retired US Marine, says, as he is rescuing two policeman from the rubble who beg him not to leave them: "We are the Marines. You are our mission."
Staff Sergeant David Karnes went on to re-enlist in the Marines and served two tours of duty in Iraq.

A fitting video memorial of that day is:
http://attacked911.tripod.com/

I was working at 3M, the main plant at Arcade and 7th streets. I think I'd been working on some survey. And then my coworker across the aisle said a plane had run into one of the World Trade Center towers.

I'd read a book on building disasters, and it had mentioned the bomber that ran into the Empire State Building; I assumed that this was the same kind of thing. There was a TV in one of the meeting rooms, and it got pulled into the hall and turned on. The image of the tower, and the smoke pouring out of it, is indelible -- it was a clear day, and this was not some accident of a private plane.

While we watched, the other tower was hit. That's when a tragedy turned into a world-changing crisis.

We had Internet access, but after a while, you couldn't get to anything. CNN changed its web site to just be a single page devoted to this one story. I had telnet access to an old text BBS from college, and people there were talking all about it.

Between checking the Internet and checking the TV, no one got much work done. We saw the collapse of the two towers, heard about the Pentagon, and the Flight 93 crash.

My wife called me to ask if I knew anything about which flights were involved. Her parents were supposed to be flying to Washington, DC that day. While I was trying to check their information, she called back; their flight was rerouted to Minneapolis-St. Paul, since all flights were grounded. She went to pick them up so they could stay with us; they ended up getting a Greyhound bus for home that evening.

I remember the stories that came out in the following days. A Sikh was attacked because he wore a turban. There were gas station owners jacking up prices because "the Arabs" were cutting of US supplies of oil; learned that OPEC isn't limited to Arab nations, Venezuela is a founding member. I remember the way other nations basically said, "We'll get out of your way." I think it was believed that we were going to turn the mountains of Afghanistan into glass; in some respects, I wonder if that wouldn't have been a stronger move. Then I wonder about even considering that.

Jacob

I was about five minutes late for work because I had stopped to vote that morning. When my husband and I got into to work at the TV station where we work the assignment manager was screaming that he needed help to get a sattelite feed on the air because a plane had just hit the World Trade Center. We didn't have daytime news in those days and nobody was there but him. We got the video on the air about two minutes before the second plane hit.

I was teaching at what was then Moorhead Junior High. It was a time where we had never had a lockdown drill and never had to have a crisis response team other than our school counselors. As the events of the day unfolded in the lounge on one of the few televisions in the building, we were faced with the grim reality of deciding how to handle the news with our students. Our principal made the wise decision to ask all teachers to shut off the televisions and follow business as usual. The tremendous magnitude of what was unfolding was completely out of our realm, much less the realm of twelve and thirteen year-olds.

The times have changed so much since that time. We now have plans in place for the event of terrorist attacks and school shootings. Lockdown drills are more commonplace than fire drills. Our students have so much more to deal with than we did. Above all, patriotism is high in our young people. They are our hope for the future!

I was at the State Department when my boss called me into his office to see his TV where there was reporting on the first plane into the WTC. Just after I was in there, the South Tower was struck. Not too long after that I remember looking out his window and seeing a giant cloud of smoke behind the Lincoln Memorial; I couldn't think too clearly and asked those in the room: "Guys, what's on the other side of the Lincoln?" Then the news got word of the Pentagon strike.

A Diplomatic Security agent ran into the suite and yelled at us to "GET OUT OF THE BUILDING NOW!!!" and left. Me and my boss spent 10 minutes shutting the office down (securing classified materials & computers) and I remember thinking how incredibly stupid we were to do it, but we did.

Just before I left a friend called and asked if I'd heard the news. I told him yes but I couldn't talk as we had to evacuate. 5 minutes later the news was reporting a car bomb at the State Department (in error, but my friend heard the report and had a bad couple of hours until I got back to a phone). Metro was shut down due to the Pentagon strike--some stranger gave me lift across to deep into Arlington, where I finally found an empty taxi.

I picked up my car from the repair shop and stopped to get groceries. I had a cart full before I realized I had absolutely no idea what I'd put in my cart.

Oddly, I started the day really annoyed that a used car I'd just bought 3 months ago had a $750 repair bill!

Where was I? In bed, enjoying a rare morning off by sleeping in. My mother lived with me at the time (she died 9 months later, bless her) and she was taking care of the kids that morning so I could get some rest. She came in, panicked, yelling that “We’ve been attacked!” I couldn’t understand what she was talking about, something about a building in New York had been hit or blown up. My first thought was it must be something like that building in Oklahoma that got blown up a few years previously. I got out of bed, stumbled to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, and made my way to the living room to watch the news and see what all the fuss was about. The news was showing a live picture of the two Towers, one with thick black smoke pouring out of its side. I watched and listened, thinking it must have been some kind of tragic accident – the plane lost control or something like that. But as I watched, I saw the second plan approach....and alter course to hit the second Tower. The thoughts that immediately jumped to mind: ‘That was deliberate!’ and ‘ Have they even begun to evacuate that building? My God, how many people were in there? How many have died?’ I was stunned, speechless, unable to truly comprehend that I actually saw what I thought I saw. That plane deliberately hit that building. It wasn’t out of control, it wasn’t a mistake, the pilot meant to do exactly what he did. I sat there for hours, then went to work, listening to the radio the whole way. Once in the office I turned on the small tv we had there. No one could concentrate on the job, it all seemed so...irrelevant. After an hour or so the boss told us to go home. I spent the rest of the day glued to the tv, unable to look away, trying to understand, trying to help my children understand. I remember taking them outside and showing them the perfectly clear blue sky and explaining that there were no planes flying, so no fluffy contrails criss-crossed the view. I felt incredibly sad, and very angry, and worried that our elected political leaders would do nothing. I can’t tell you how proud I was the day the President declared the war. Finally America was going to stand up and fight. I pray every day that we will not forget, that we will not lose faith, that we will continue the fight until the last murderous sob is purged from the human race. Do I mind being asked to remember? Never. I remember it every day. I will never forget.

The following was a parody when I wrote it.

Unfortunately, it comes close today to about what 1/2 of our country feels regarding our War on Islamic Fascism.

Most of the phrases are directly plagiarized from what various people wrote or said the week after 9/11.

I find it disturbing that many people will find the following piece reasonable and rational - as in "what do you mean, this is a parody?"

From a letter to the Editor - Circa December 12, 1941

President Roosevelt has proclaimed that December 7th will be a Day that will live in Infamy. Perhaps this is true. But, shouldn't we seek a more measured response to this terrible tragedy? Wouldn't a violent act of retribution against Japan, or most certainly against Germany, which has done us no harm, only serve to reinforce that which was the cause of this attack to begin with: the American policy of taking sides in a war that is none of our business and our crippling economic policies towards both Japan and Germany?

President Roosevelt's speech worries me. Is he willing to send bombs and soldiers that will take the lives of children and other innocents? Will he in truth live up to his claim of representing what is good about our country?

In his response to the German - English war, Roosevelt has displayed a lack of a sense of justice and goodness. He has clearly chosen sides by supplying the English with armaments and supplies while ignoring their attacks against their European neighbor, Germany. England is, with the explicit blessing of the American presidency, shooting down German planes and terrorizing the citizens of the European continent (and so killing innocent people). Evil is now raining onto both peoples.

The problem all along has been that evil visited upon a people has been interpreted a proof of the victim's absolute good. This has led to righteous rage and evil responses to evil. Just because Germany is now governing all of Europe, doesn't mean that England is good.

Suppose that our country had been bitterly oppressed by its neighbors for tens of years. Suppose we had been forced to let the world dictate the terms of how we governed ourselves and whether or not we could have our own military forces. Suppose that we had had to pay staggering financial reparations to other countries, permanently crippling our economy and our way of life.

Well, all of this and more has happened to the Germans. Should we not try to understand their natural desire to expand and grow strong once more after their long years of oppression?

And what of the Japanese, who were once our allies? In this moment of national sorrow, how can we justify retaliation when we, our nation, cut off the lifeblood of their nation by illegally blockading their supply of oil? Rather than asking ourselves, "What should we do next?" and without much consideration coming to the conclusion that we should go to War!, we should instead be asking ourselves, "What have we done?" and "What are we?" We need to come to understand what it is about America and our arbitrary international policies that has produced such extreme hostility towards this nation.

And what of these Jews that we keep on hearing about? Yes, it is possible that they have been mistreated by their German neighbors, but have they not brought it upon themselves? Why don't they move to someplace like British Palestine if they don't like where they are living? Are we prepared to wipe out every child in Germany and Japan merely keep some Jews from being treated badly? Why don't we declare war on the Catholic church when we know that they have treated Jews badly for hundreds of years? Are we prepared to bomb Germany and Japan into rubble for the sake of a few Jews?

It is exactly as insane for us to kill innocent people in other countries as it for anyone to kill innocent people. We should all be calling for an international peaceful solution to war, not perpetuating a cycle that is absolutely guaranteed to bring more acts of war against us and more suffering into the world.

A Concerned American Citizen

I was at home in Southern Indiana, looking for job openings. My son was 1 and I had left an excellent management position at UPS to stay home with him.

But all that had changed when I received a phone call, from New York, 1 month and 1 day earlier. The caller informing me that my husband was cheating on me with a local girl there. Turned out it was all true and quite seedy.

So the morning of 9/11, I was desperately looking to get back in the job market to be able to support my son and I after the divorce. I remember turning on the TV and seeing the first plane's back end sticking out of the Tower and then another plane coming and the whole building bellowing smoke and flames. I was numb and couldn't comprehend what I was seeing. Then the news announcer said the building was collapsing and in slow motion - it did. People running in the streets and a thick, ashy cloud descended on them, like natives running from an exploding volcano.

I spun into action, packed my son up and left the house. The first thing I did was fill up the van's gas tank and then I went to the local discount grocery store. I stocked up on canned goods, chicken and stews, peanut butter, jerky, dried fruit, pack of chocolate bars, peroxide, neosporin, and bottled waters. Last stop was the ATM for cash.

Alone in the world, with no income and my small child, I'd never felt so vulnerable in my life. I felt the world was coming to an end and in a way it did.

...and first heard of the attacks in a usenet group. I turned on the TV, and told my wife to come look; she has family in NYC.

What remained of my teenage testosterone kicked in, and I wanted to kill every infidel on earth. Of course, we didn't suspect then that the main Al Qaeda Headquarters is at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and that we were all being played for suckers.

That's over now. Now we know better.

I live in Fairfield County, CT, about 50 miles north of NYC. I was working in my home office when I heard the first news on the radio. I turned on the tv set just minutes before the second plane hit.

I thought that was the worst thing I had ever witnessed. I was wrong because I then watched the first tower collapse. And then the second. Later we heard the reports from the Pentagon and rural Pennsylvania.

Words fail me. I stayed glued to the tv set the rest of the day. We get local NYC tv here, so I saw the people who report day-to-day local news doing something they obviously never wanted to do and never thought they would have to do. They knew the names of some of the firefighters (like NYFD chaplain Father Judge) who went in to the towers and weren't coming back out.

I was scheduled to teach an evening class that day; I was hugely relieved when classes were cancelled.

I'm sitting here in the same office this morning wondering if there are any tricks left up their sleeve. It is easy at this range to conjure up scenarios that include my town in dirty bomb or suitcase nuke contamination.

I think it might be easier for me to forget the day if I lived further from the biggest target. But even now if I am watching the news from NYC all it takes is an aerial shot of lower Manhattan to bring it all back when I see the missing pieces from the landscape.

The other instantaneous reminder is when an older movie or tv show includes a shot of the towers.

I think it is important to allow myself the painful reminders of that day from time to time. We are not done with these animals yet, and we need to keep that angry edge until we are.

War is the health of the State. A dim-witted populace, manipulated by the fear of unseen and unknowable "enemies", is easier to manipulate than a populace that is wide-awake, courageous and lucid.

'Nuff said!

When I was a kid my dad showed me where he was when he heard that Kennedy had been shot. Now I have more than one of those memories in my life, 9/11 being one of them. 4/16 being another - I'm a Virginia Tech alum and now live in Blacksburg. There was a feature on the radio this morning about people forgetting what year 9/11 happaned. I got married 11 days after 9/11 and had a baby 18 days before 4/16, so I won't forget those years.

I would not have guessed we'd still be at war, would you?

How clear the sky, bright and blue. A hint of warmth. Another reason to homeschool...seize the day! The promise of a perfect daytrip to DC with my ten-year old boy tickled; I'd cajole my husband to come, if he could manage some hooky of his own.

He was still abed and I went into our room with my hatching plan. NPR on the radio, which was those days always irritating me awake. My husband mentioned something about a little plane crashing into the Trade Center, and there was a little droning morning edition chatter in the background ro confirm. I listened briefly. Oh, well, that's news but nothing that's going to ruin *our* day. Some pilot must have had heart trouble or something. Can you turn that off?

It's so fine, I was thinking...would you come? I've never toured the Capitol before, could we? Breakfast is on the table. We need catfood...I'll get us ready while you get the kitty food, and boy o boy, I love America. Life is beautiful.

******Ring******* He can't have got to the store yet...he must have a question...

"Sally, turn on the news. I'll be right home, a second plane..."

Instant replay. The plane swoops around oh my f*n God.

Pentagon. Jesus Christ.

The tower is wobbling, I can see it wobbling.
Down, down, down down
My husband is weeping.
I'm not. I'm remembering how I felt dread, my stupid prejudice against the towers. I would never go to the top. When my sister showed me a picture with her on top of the Trade Center, (she went to visit her Cantor Fitzgerald friends)how I used to picture it wobbling, The floor undulating beneath my feet. I would not go to the top.

I can't believe what I see...the people. Did they get out? Could they get out?
Pudding. The remaining tower looks, oh God, like it's getting soft. Down, down down, in Sideshow Bob Tendrils.

Another plane on its way to Capitol. Stop it! STOP IT! Someone stop it.
The helpless dread sank like a cold stone. I was breaking down.

Noone had to tell me. I knew they stopped that plane, the people on it.
I would not fall apart. Get up. Get up.

That's why he hasn't been "captured". He's a big part of the PR team.

Songs from Memory

J.M. Balay

I. Pastoral

Sky - the perfect summer sky -
Breaking blue above the golden east,
The grassy dune and ocean smell,
The deeper green upon the mountains,
In deeper pools beneath the chestnuts,
A little while: summer in New England.

Once these called me back with quicker steps
To chalky rooms and new love
On sunny lawns,
A new year, with school bells telling the hours.

But today I'll fly away.
I'll leave it all behind
And take my life to California!
To match my heart
Against a larger mountain.
I'll rise up in the morning sun
And sail into the West, and freedom.
I leave you all my love.

II. De profundis

My friends – my more than friends –
Were there, in confusion and alarm.
So I went up with them, as we were taught,
With steady, winding step on weary step.
I saw the others coming down,
Some solitary, or hand-in-hand,
Or bravely patient, step by endless step.
One more, who could not walk,
I put her on my back,
To leave that place behind
And walk toward the promise of new life.

I remember, long ago, in a church
Not far from here, how the priest said,
Libera me, and the choir sang
Libera me, libera me,
And when night and darkness fell,
I was not forgotten.
I was not alone.

III. After

After the screams became sobbing
After the shouts became whispers
After the promises
After the turning
After the patchy wild reports and rumours
After the guessing and the doubting
After the silence
We are face-to-face with certainty:
We know, at last, where we are going.
I will send you all my love
And rise up in the morning sun.

IV. Ave atque vale

I see an empty car.
It’s waiting at the station even now.
I will hold myself a moment more
In silence, until the west wind rises
And green leaves flutter once again.

For a moment more
Let no stones be laid,
No stories turn into song,
Nor monuments nor towers
Rise again.

Let no touch disturb the moment,
Nor word disturb the image breeding image.

But let us now praise men of granite.
Let us now praise women for their strength.
Let us now hold children closer,
For the road ahead is long,
And the smoke is rising still.

V. Anthem

Again September has arrived.
The village green is as it ever was,
The white church shining to the hills.
The country bridge stands over rocky streams,
And cattle in the dairy call for milking.

Every day the evening loses length.
The perfect face of moonrise
Turns the world blue and shadowy,
Or new moon leaves us darkling.
Another year is washed away,
Its frail dreams and quick confusions,
Its predictions vain, its lucky chances.
And summer almost a memory:
The harvest is at hand.

In our quiet hours, who remembers
The dust and labor, the noonday sun,
The searchers and the servants,
Who struggled and sacrificed
In thousand ways and thousand places
Unknown to us, but not alone?

For there it is, the promise and the power,
The gift so undeserved:
That most of us live lives of quiet courage,
Of hope and trust,
Of facing day by day and step by step
The dangers and the doubts,
Pouring out love for friends and family,
And for people we will never know.

O let us be thankful—
We lay down our heads in pain,
And rise up
With vigor, as on eagle’s wings,
In the glory of our youth,
Until September comes again.

Copyright 2006 J.M. Balay, all rights reserved

Thinking more about it now, the moment from 9/11/2001 that sticks with me is the moment the first tower collapsed. It was horrible already, the news people were interviewing someone who had witnessed the crashes, and then "Oh my God." Beyond our worst imagining.

I was just a few months out of college, and a few weeks into my new job, about a half hour from Manhattan. My boss had me doing busy work when my coworker got a phone call from her friend who had an apartment with a (formerly) scenic view of lower Manhattan. "Josie, I'm looking out the window, and an airplane hit the North Tower!" Josie turned on her radio. At first I figured it was a small accident involving a Cessna and continued working. But after a little while something compelled me to get up and listen to the radio, even though the radio announcers were still discussing it as if it were a small incident. Then I heard "Oh my God! Did you see that? A second plane just hit the South Tower!" Then we all knew: we were under attack.

After a little while we all sat back down and tried to do some work to keep from going crazy, but the busy work I was doing seemed more pointless than ever. When the Pentagon attack was announced we went back to the radio. I remember the awful reports of jumpers like it was yesterday, wondering how terrible things must have been up there to make jumping seem like the better option. I nearly fainted when they announced the South Tower had crumbled: "they" had accomplished what they had failed to do in 1993. Gradually word of loved ones trickled in: Josie's friend was evacuated from her apartment and was fine, the guy in Purchasing's wife who worked at the WTC made it out. My mom's friend woke up that morning and decided to take the day off. We were relieved that the ones we knew personally were fine, but we also knew that not everyone was fine.

They let us out of work around noon, and my initial thought was that I had to do something to help. But what? Blood drives... give blood! I found a drive at a nearby hospital. Apparently they had one every week. By the time I got there there were more than 100 people line up to give blood. I cried when they weren't able to draw blood from me and even let them try both arms, but I was glad to see how many people had the same idea. I remember the pride I felt at the displays of patriotism and generosity just as much as I remember the feelings of horror.

I was in my dorm, sleeping, when maintenance knocked to fix something of theirs. As he was leaving, he asked if I had heard about what happened in New York.

I was transfixed the rest of the day.

I was in our cafeteria getting my morning dose of caffeine and sugar to get the day started. Someone came in and said that a plane hit the World Trade Center. I had assumed it was some goof in a single engine plane (maybe my dad) who had either seized up or wanted to kill himself. I work at a large Military Command Center in DC and as I walked back up to the Ops Center I didn't really feel any particular sense of urgency. The Ops Center has two walls of video monitors that can each display a single image 10 feet wide by 6 feet high. We stood there in complete disbelief as we watched the second plane slam into WTC in stereo. Even then, we didn't even think it was terrorist related. Soon after that, we heard that the Pentagon was hit and as we stepped outside our building, you could see the smoke coming from it about 2 miles away.

I was asleep. My wife woke me up to turn on our bedroom TV. My mind was blurry. I couldn't understand what I was seeing. She just looked at me. I could hear our 11 month old son playing in the next room. He took his first steps that same night.

I was in Redmond, WA. Our team came in at 6 in the morning to talk to people on the East Coast and we were watching the sun rise on Willows Road and watching a few hawks dive at field mice.

The first sign that something was going on was the collapse of the internet. Suddenly you couldn't get pages to come up. (Considering we worked at Microsoft this was unheard of.) We all thought something had failed in the hardware until we started getting messages from a co-worker via Messenger who started telling us what was happening. After a few minutes one of us got the homepage of CNN to come up and we all just sat and stared at the picture thinking how could anyone do it.

We got a radio up and snagged a t.v. from one of the test labs to see some of the news coverage just in time to see the second tower hit. I can remember people just staggering away from the t.v. in silence and pain.

I had two cousins living in New York at the time. Both were safe but it was hours before word got back to us from either. Cells were worthless in New York and neither of them got to a land line until early afternoon.

One of my co-workers, Gary, had a female cousin who he was very close with who worked in Tower two. He was in a stupor by noon and hoarse from calling family to find out anything. I can remember watching as one of the largest, strongest, most decent men I've ever known sat in a chair and wept wondering if the cousin he grew up with, a single mom of two, was still alive. A few days later we found out she was one of the missing and Gary and his wife made arrangements for her two daughters to come live with them.

When the United flight fell to the ground and the news carried word to us one of our team began loudly declaring that it had been shot down. When I said "You don't know that," he began to argue with me and scream that it was the government doing it. I can remember walking away shaking my head and thinking that there could never be enough "proof" to counter that type of arguement, let alone support his. His behavior that day revealed a lot and before too long he spiralled out into unemployment.

I remember how cold I was that day. I just couldn't get the heat warm enough.

That particular day, as so many, I was getting ready for work, having my coffee, reading the Wall Street Journal and watching a NY1 (local cable news channel) segment called "In the Papers", where the anchor skims through the dailies and points out amusing things in each one. Saved me $2.25 and some time, and a cheap segment for NY1.

They cut away from that and showed a grainy image of the WTC from the Empire State Building. My view out my own window was better - we could see Tower One from our apartment. One Penn Plaza blocked Tower Two.

I had spent just about then entire month of June on the 99th floor of Tower One negotiating and finalizing an agreement with Marsh, the insurance brokers. One thing that I noticed was that some of the commuter planes heading towards LaGuardia would fly below us and pretty close.

When I saw the hole in Tower One, that is what I originally thought had hit the building, even though the commuter planes come from the south. But the hole was too big.

I called a couple of the people I knew at Marsh but the calls did not go through. I called a colleague who worked on the contract with me and she wasn't around.

Then the day unfolded in front of me as it did for everybody else.

I won't ever tire of being asked. I have a picture of Lower Manhattan with the business cards of the people I knew who were killed mounted underneath. I won't forget them.

I don't know if it is my upbringing, my politics, or the fact that I had a secondary connection (i.e. no family or close friends, but customers) with those in the buildings.

But I see that unbelievable viciousness and pure evil, and am mystified that there are so many who don't recognize that anything that could cradle and nurture that evil is something that must be stopped. It can't be reasoned with. It can't be negotiated with. Stopped.

So no, I'll never tire of being asked, because if my little story can open someone's eyes and help them realize the senselessness and barbarity of that day, it's worth it.

Lunatic

I was Chief Engineer of a ship in the Ready Reserve Fleet for the U.S. Maritime Administration. Since in the layup status we were in we didn't have a Captain, I was the head man. I was in the engine room working on something when I got a call from the Chief Mate. In a very controlled, quiet voice he said, "Chief, there's something going on I think you'd better come see right now." His voice spoke volumes more than his words. I put down the phone, casually walked out of the engine room, and then, when no one could see me, RAN for his office. I got there just in time to see the second plane crash into the second tower.

I saw the people jumping to their deaths to escape the flames, and watched the collapses of both buildings. I'll remember those images until they put me in a box underground. Muslims can thank whoever they pray to that I wasn't in charge of the American nuclear football that day or any day thereafter. I'd have sent to the Saudi homeland of the sons of whores who did this enough nuclear hellfire to make all of Saudi Arabia glowing green glass. Mecca and Medina would have suffered the same fate as Elugelab. I'd have hurt Muslims badly enough that any Muslim ever again publicly praising the 19 mass murderers would be ripped limb from limb by the bare hands of his own insanely fearful people. What the Mongols did to them would have looked mild by comparison.

George Bush showed far more mercy than I would have. I'll never forget, I'll never forgive, and I'll never trust Muslims again under any circumstances. As far as I'm concerned, the world would be better off without their perverted religion; whatever it takes to make damned sure they NEVER get a chance to do something like 9-11 again is all right by me.

I'd had a heart attack, mom and my sister had just come back from a quick trip home to Fargo for a family friend's funeral. was headed back to work the next week.

got up around nine-ish, like this morning. slid over to the confuser.... and none of the news sites would come up. none of them. checked the newsgroups, and everybody was asking if anybody's news site was working.

finally the Strib dumped all the graphics and went to pure text and the masthead... and I yelled into the next room to turn on the TV.

hours pass.

about mid-afternoon, I had to drive to a checkup, and because the car was under half a tank (old blizzard-avenue resident habits,) I filled it up at something like two and a half bucks a gallon at the neighborhood station. doctor saw me, said, "What, you aren't dead YET?!?," and I went home.

hours pass.

we got bone tired by 8:30 that night, and went out for ice cream. line around the gas station was two blocks long. the price on the sign was seven bucks. they got fined for that later, but heck, it was almost closing time, and the kids at the register were getting desperate to get out.

six years. the only "dead or alive" fugitive in the US in sixty years is still sitting with his goats in a cave, watching our leaders do his dirty work for him in tearing the country apart.

it's time to get slippers on and go put the flag up. get dressed later and do my errands and chores.

no matter what side of the political fence you're on, today, putting up the flag comes first.

I was in my office in my house in Georgia where I lived then. My dad called me from North Carolina and told me to turn on the TV because somebody had flown a plane into the WTC.

I had driven to see friends in Maine only about three weeks before, and I remember the striking view of the Manhattan skyline from the New Jersey Turnpike on my way up.

It was a gorgeous, stunningly clear late summer morning. I turned the TV on just before the second plane hit and watched in disbelief as it all unfolded.

Friends who lived in Westchester County were affected by the attack and its aftermath to the degree they moved south shortly thereafter. Beyond having several neighbors on their street killed, my buddy said maybe the eeriest part was going to the New Rochelle train station in the weeks following and seeing the cars that had been parked there on the morning of 9/11 and would clearly never be driven home.

I've since met several people who moved from the NYC area for fear of another attack. One of my neighbors had her brother killed in the Towers.

Those who tolerate the spread of Islam and coddle its extremists astonish me. I just can't understand how any rational person could take that position.

9/11 ... yet another reason for Republicans and Democrats to demonize each other. This may not be the worst consequence of that day, but it is a sad one, nonetheless.

As for me, I was home watching TV before heading to the dentist. I didn't watch much of the TV coverage after that (seemed like gawking, I guess) so the horror didn't really hit me until much later when I saw that documentary done by the French guys who were following the firefighters around. I won't forget the look on the faces of the firefighters when the bodies started hitting the roof. A moustached man looked up, recognizing the sound for what it was, turned his head slightly to meet the eyes of his partner, then turned to get on with his work.

I can't know this, but I bet that guy doesn't use 9/11 as a political springboard.

If you were in NYC, it was the Primary - biggest race was for Mayor..

And yeah, it was strange how quiet it was, except when the F-15s and F-16s that were patroling were overhead

The part I remember most - Getting home to far eastern Queens - about 10-12 miles from Ground Zero, and my wife asking me "what's that smell?", and turning to look at her with sadness (and astonishment that she didn't KNOW) (sorry crying right now) and saying "That's the smell of Ground Zero burning" - plastic, metal, paper, and underneath it all, if you knew what it was - the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh

I was in my office at Sandia National Laboratories working on our simulation codes. These were being used, among other things, to predict the behavior of buildings hit by terrorist bombings.

I got an email from someone who had seen the first impact on TV. My initial reaction was that this was a terrible accident, but it didn't take long for the thought that it might have been a deliberate terrorist attack to insinuate itself. This was, after all, a possibility my colleagues and I had discussed many times around the water cooler. We half expected that someone would set off an improvised nuclear device at the WTC someday.

Our break area had a television permanently tuned to CNN. So many of us saw the second plane hit. (I can't recall if I saw it live or was told about it and went to see the replay.) When the second plane hit, we knew.

About half an hour later the word came down that the laboratory was shutting down (there were still planes in the air and someone had decided we were a likely target) and we were all to go home. To avoid traffic jams, we were to leave in half-hour shifts by divisions. My division was scheduled last. Nice to know where you stand in the greater scheme of things.

So I was still in the break area, watching the coverage, when the first tower pancaked. I have to admit to being surprised. If I had known then what I know now about the construction of the towers, I wouldn't have been.

We weren't allowed back to work for three days. By the third day, the guard gate was protected by a slalom course of concrete barriers and an armored car. It was pretty clear that the idea here was that the concrete barriers would slow down any approaching vehicle enough for the armored car to get a good bead on it with its 20mm cannon. I had to stop and have my car sniffed for explosives before I was allowed near the gate. I will say this for the gate detail: They were extremely polite while dressed in camoflauge, toting assault rifles, and working the explosives sniffer. There was very much a sense that each of us was doing our job for the country.

During the break, my wife and I went to a builder's convention downtown. (I don't even remember what particular home improvement we were contemplating.) An awful lot of televisions were there, tuned to Bush's speech to Congress. The cameras kept cutting to a certain well-known politician rolling her eyes; my first indication that there were limits to national unity even in this crisis. How soon we forget.

I was canning peaches.

My husband called to tell me a plane had hit the Tower, and immediately I said, "It's Osama." (I'd recently read news reports of the investigation and trial of the WTC bombing.)

I canned all week, TV on, tears running down my face. I knew we were at war, and that it would be ugly. I wished I were young enough to join the military, or go build munitions, or drive an ambulance. But I'm not, so I canned peaches, and cared for my children, and flew my flag.

To this day, I cannot eat a peach without remembering how they tasted through the salt of my tears, and feeling the desolation of that week.

I eat a lot of peaches.

In those days, I worked the midnight to 6AM shift at a classical radio station in Colorado. The last piece I played was the Waltz from John Duffy's "Heritage Symphonic Dances" -- a lovely, majestic piece that hints of wonderful things just over the horizon. It was a cruel irony that ugly and evil things were just over that horizon.

I chatted with the morning guy for a few minutes and drove home to sleep, my head hitting the pillow at about 6:45 MDT, little knowing what was happening on the east coast.

I woke up a half hour later, when I heard my mother and my sister telephoning and leaving bewildering messages on my answering machine.

My first considered reaction was to put out the flag, and then spent the next 18 hours watching the news, waiting for the next horrible surprise.

My cube was around the corner from the break room, which had a television. On that morning I heard a commotion, and went to check it out in time to see the second plane hit the south tower.

I lived in Shreveport at the time, across the river from Barksdale Air Force Base, and I saw Air Force One land shortly before President Bush made his first statements about the attacks.

There was no work done that day, and I finally went home around three or so. I felt as angry as I ever had in my life, and intensely sad as well. At the time the estimates were as high as 10,000 dead.

The next day I learned that Jeremy Glick, the brother of a friend from college, had been killed on Flight 92, leaving behind a wife and an infant daughter.

Honestly, I hope I never forget how I felt that day.

Thanks to moishe3rd for politicizing an otherwise thoughtful thread. The vast majority of Americans supported going into Afghanistan and getting Al Qaeda. Which is not the same thing as invading Iraq, which most Americans do oppose and had nothing to do with terrorism until we created a failed state there.

I remember it so clearly. I was sitting at my desk in downtown Columbus, working on some busy work. My boss came by, visibly shaken, and told me a plane hit the WTC. I immediately thought (as many did) of the small plane that hit the Empire State Building. We all quickly moved into the conference room to turn on the TV. There we saw the images that none of us can ever forget. Immediately the second plane hit. 40 people packed into that conference room and no one coule even speak.

We stayed there for probably an hour or two as the other planes came down and as the airports were all closing. I honestly can't remeber a single word being spoken. The boss told us to all go home and be with our families.

I caught a ride home with my best friend... amazed at how beautiful the sky was - so clear and blue. The weather was so perfect here that day... We sat in the back yard for the rest of the afternoon struck dumb by what had happened. I will never forget how unbelievably quiet everything was. No planes overhead, no helicopters... I can't even remember hearing a bird or cicada.

My thoughts are still with everyone who lost a loved one. Politics aside, that is what we all can agree on. People who were loved were taken away from their husbands, wives, children, parents, and friends. All the rest of it is moot, at least to me.

I had dropped my car off for repairs and my mechanic was driving me back home in my car. About a block from home the WCBS-880 reporter was offering conjecture about how a "small" plane could hit the tower, when he suddenly said, a plane just hit the other tower.

I looked over at my mechanic just as he looked over at me and we said "Uh oh" in unison. He dropped me off and I rushed inside to call my ex-sister-inlaw and find out who was picking up my son at his school (the school was located on one of the highest points on the east coast and no one knew what else might be coming next, especially with fighter jets patroling the coast outside my window).

"Don't worry," she said, his cousin is on the way to get him right now.

Where were you when you heard? Are you tired of being asked to remember?

At work right across the river from the WTC in Jersey City. Saw it on the news didnt think much of it, went outside and saw the WTC and thought "Oh my god". I saw the second plane hit live, as well as seeing the north tower collapse while I was driving home after we evacuated. Almost had several accidents from drivers looking at the billowing smoke instead of the road. I was guilty of it too.

Had my wits scared out of my by a military jet screaming overhead as I was gassing up my car right after leaving work.

No I'm not tired of being asked to remember.

I heard about the attack from Howard Stern. I was working in my office in the basement of our home, finishing up some paperwork and getting ready to leave for vacation. I was listening to Stern when one his lackeys came in the room and told him a plane had flown into the WTC. At first, Stern thought it was probably just some hack private pilot goofing around in his Cessna. When the second plane hit, I heard my wife screaming from the second floor bedroom - "Are you watching the news? Jumbo jets are crashing into the World Trade Center!!" I ran upstairs and my wife had the Today Show on. As they broadcast pictures of the smoking towers we looked at each other and wondered what was happening. Then Jim Miklashevski (sp) called in from the Pentagon and said something just rocked the building and parts of the Pentagon were on fire. I looked at my wife and said - "we're under attack".

I was there, worked in the WTC. Was actually on the last train to go in. I started reading the Bleat shortly there after when Gnat was a toddler(TM). Love your writing James, helped me through it

I was paying for my order at a donut shop. Someone walked in the front door and yelled out to everyone, "Two planes just hit the World Trade Center." On the way home, I turned on the radio and the hosts were talking via cellphone to people in NYC who had seen the planes. Passenger jets. I felt my body draining away. I went in, kissed my wife on the head, said something about the world being different now, and turned on the TV. We watched the towers come down with our 7-month-old crawling around our feet. I remember the intense anxiety about what else would happen as the day's events unfolded. It slowly turned into anger and a distinct sense of purpose.

A couple days later, I was unable to walk down an aisle at Home Depot, as I looked up at the massive metal shelves towering over my head. I still weep at the story of Flight 93, and the people who were ripped out of their normal lives and thrown into a combat situation -- and found the strength to prevail in a matter of minutes. I don't want to forget any of this, especially the feeling of purpose I had on that day. Thanks for inviting me to remember.

Here's my story: I was on a break from teaching, like every Tuesday, and actually spent the time of the attacks in blissful ignorance at a nearby Starbucks. I had CD's on in my car instead of the radio, so I totally missed the news on both the way over and the way back. I did hear someone listening to a radio on the Starbucks patio and they were talking about "the second plane," but it didn't register with me at all. (It amazed me later that nobody walked inside and told us about it.)

When I got back to the school, the flute teacher stopped me in the hallway and asked me if all my students were being pulled out of school (evidently hers were). I said, "No, why?" and she told me what had happened. I spent the rest of the day like everyone else, in shocked, depressed amazement, catching the news when I could. There I was, not even two weeks into being a homeowner, and the world suddenly felt so different. It added to the pall cast over everything when I found out that the sister of a girl I graduated from high school with was on Flight 93, the one that crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. (I know that there have been quite a few lists of names read aloud today, so let me share hers: Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas. May she rest in peace...)

The whole thing felt so surreal; how could anyone hate us that much? The concept of the suicide hijacking was unprecedented as well (before that, hijackers just usually wanted to go to Cuba, and that's why airline personnel were taught to cooperate with them rather than try to subdue them).

I know there are still terrorist plots being hatched, and people capable of carrying them out...but I hope nothing like this ever happens on U.S. soil again. Or anywhere, for that matter.

James--great video; thanks for reposting.

feeding my 10 month old son at the time. I had the TV on fro some background noise, maybe cartoons were on, I don't remember. I know that when the news broke in, and I saw a plane had hit a tower, I couldn't quite comprehend it all. My thought was "what? what's wrong with that pilot? Can't he see the building there?" I simply had to go on with my day, finish feeding Andrew, and head off to work, where I was a preschool teacher. We had CDs playing happy kid music, the whole downstairs of the building only had one TV that could show anything other than movies, and it was in the breakroom. None of us could really talk about anything, needing to protect our little ones from the terror of it all. All of our charges were under the age of 6, they had no need to know, and needed life to be routine. It wasn't until that afternoon, after all the children were down for a nap, that it hit me that it was all diliberate, intentional, and when I heard about the Pentagon, the thought finally crossed my mind that this was the begining of a war. That's when I started to cry. And had to stop crying quickly because the kids would be waking up soon.
Next day, the hardest part was when one of the little boys built Lego towers at the Lego table. They were the same towers this kid had built every day for a month, two towers, close to the same hight and right near each other, but that day, when I looked at them, all I could see was an airplane flying at them and flames, and it took everything in me to say, "Wow, Billy, you can stack those blocks so high!" and not ask him to take them down carefully because it was hard for me to look at them.
That baby I was feeding that day is now in first grade. It amazes me how time goes by, and life goes on, and then you hear a song, see a picture, or some new Lego towers, and it all comes flowing back, and you try not to cry in front of your kids because if you do, then you'll need to tell them why you're crying and you still want to shelter them from all the bad things in the world. One day, when they're ready, they'll learn about it, then you can talk, and cry together.

I had just dropped off my little girl at preschool. You could see the World Trade from the street beside the school and one of the moms said "is there supposed to be smoke coming from the World Trade Towers?"

No, I thought. There most certainly isn't. Then I thought "Crud". My commute was going to be pear shaped. I figured I better hustle before it got any worse and got on the PATH train headed right for the smoke. The train pulled out and then stopped. Sat for fifteen minutes. I had already remarked to myself what a surpassingly beautiful morning this was and now it was apparently not going to be quite as perfect a day. The train started heading back for Jersey and I thought "that's a first." I got off the train - no announcements yet - and got on the 33rd street train. Got into Herald Square to find that no subways were running so I climbed out to begin walking to work. I was walking north on Lexington when I finally looked up and saw hundreds of people standing in the streets staring south with their cell cameras up and a look on their faces that I'd never seen before. I turned around just in time to see the tower collapse (I don't know which one). I don't expect to ever be that poleaxed again.

Just remember that if you are wrong, you will be the first to go. Radical Islamists don't tolerate dissent at all. What an inappropriate posting on a day like this!

I'm on the West Coast and my sister called and said "Go turn on the news, something's happened in New York" I jumped out of bed, turned on the TV and saw the second plane hit.

It really took a while to absorb what happened. It just wasn't possible. I went to work and we spent most of the day watching the news. It just was so hard to believe that people like me, working in an office, like me, were killed that day for no reason. They were just minding their own business, supporting themselves and their families.

This is why I won't ever be tired of being asked. If someone wanted to kill some of us, then they want to kill all of us in America. How can people not see that? Certainly there are good Muslims and good people of every country. But there are people who seriously want to do away with us just because we exist. Sitting around and holding hands and saying we understand they had tough childhoods isn't going to make this danger go away. Standing up to it just might diminish it.

I'd been up late, and I was half asleep listening to Howard Stern, who was my alarm clock because I for years I enjoyed waking up laughing to him. Suddenly, when I heard Howard say, "THIS IS WORLD WAR III!" I was jolted awake, because the tone of his voice was very serious. I turned on the TV, and I was shocked by the replays of the crashes. But no sooner had I felt some limited relief that the attacks failed to destroy the Towers than I watched them fall. Once I saw the Pentagon hit, I knew that this was more than a horrible terrorist attack, but that my life had been changed, and so had the world.

Providing people an opportunity to remember where they were is a very helpful and constructive thing to do, by the way. Thank you!

The Pentagon is the biggest nexus of Metrorail and Metrobus in Northern Virginia and after 9/11 its station was moved across I395 due to the emergency. But that smell was still everywhere around the Pentagon.

I was riding a bike at the gym next to an airline pilot who had also flown in Gulf War I. We watched all the TVs switch to live coverage of the towers. And my pilot friend talked about how easy it is to see the towers when you fly into NY, how you can even see them in fog or a heavy cloud cover. They stick up high above. And that day was clear. How could a plane hit them? And then two?

For more, go to http://lifepundit.typepad.com/my_weblog/

But one of the memories that is especially clear was the sight of all those thousand yard stares in the days after and the sense of numbness, a lack of vitality coming from just about everybody.

I NEVER, EVER again want to see my country, my fellow citizens that devastated. The country that I had always known, the loud and boisterous ball of energy and confidence was absent for a couple of days. Subdued. It was the scariest thing, after the sight of the Towers coming down, that I have ever seen.

I was never prouder or more appreciative than I was when we started to bounce back. Even when people started going back to the malls following the suggestion to shop to defeat terrorism, I wasn't the least bit annoyed or upset like I might have been before 9/11. I was proud of our resilience and proud that we all seemed to be of the same mind ie that we shouldnt change how we live, except in minimal practical ways, in order to spite the terrorists. I was heartened even more by the calls from some quarters that we should try to be even more American, better Americans by trying even harder to live up to our ideals.

My car radio was tuned to one of the local classic rock stations, as I was driving to work at a small mapping company (12 employees). A song ended, and the DJ said that “a plane has just crashed into the World Trade Center”. For those of you who might know the Kansas City metro, I was making my way through the “Grandview triangle” interchange, so I was kind of paying attention, but mostly focused on the traffic. I didn’t know what to make of it, whether this was just some morning shift radio skit that would develop, but like many I assumed the plane was a small plane. If it was really happening, my thought was with the pilot and his family. What a tough way to go. Moments later the radio switched to a live network feed, and it became clear that it was a commercial jet and a big tragedy. Then the second plane hit.

By the time I arrived at work, it was clear to all that this was an attack. We tried for a few minutes to get some mapping done, but from time to time we just had to stand up and talk about this evil news. We were alternately stunned and angry. Someone said “What should we do?”, and someone else answered “Nuke them till they glow”. Our supervisor had a television on in his office, so we stood and watched the replay of one plane hitting one tower, then the second…fire and smoke, clouds of debris, people running in the street. The owner of the company walked in and said that since none of us would be able to give our work the concentration it needed, we should go home for the day.

I got home just before my wife returned from driving our youngest kids to school. I turned on our TV, and then waved my wife in when she came in the house. I could tell she hadn’t heard, so I brought her up to speed as fast as I could. We watched the second tower fall.

Later, there was a rumor that supplies of gasoline might be cut off, so I drove a couple of miles and found a station which was up to only $2.99 (a couple of other stations were at $4.00 or higher). My low gas indicator light was on, so I got in the long line and started inching forward. I was concerned that they might run out, and then that my tank might run dry before I got to another station; but finally I got my gas.

Back at work, one day I remember we all looked out the window and watched a commercial jet make a 180 degree turn. The atmosphere was such that it left a bright white contrail in the shape of a giant U on its side. This lingered for a long time, seemingly hours. The attacks on the WTC and the Pentagon were the horrible events, but being an eyewitness to air travel being disrupted – we could look up there and watch it happen here – brought it home somehow.

Another day flyers were passed out all through the office park inviting everyone to a memorial service. About half of us from our company went, and I estimated there were 700 people in total from all the buildings. The speeches were patriotic and spiritual in nature. With that many people there were bound to be different beliefs represented. Not only did no one object to the prayers, everyone seemed eager to hear what each speaker had to say. I remember one lady who handed out simple bows that she’d made of red white and blue ribbons; I pinned mine to my shirt and wore it the rest of the day. I still have it, right next to my computer monitor as I type this.

I'm not tired of being asked, in fact I'm glad of the opportunity. And I’m very thankful that there hasn’t been another attack here to the magnitude of 9-11. Even so, the world is a dangerous place, and we can’t afford to forget.

I was in college. I was having a cup of coffee at home, with the Today Show on in the background, getting things ready for class. I remember the newscasters voices drastly changed, so I began to watch. I don't think I moved for a good ten minutes, I probably didn't even blink.
I think everyone who watched it knew the world had changed forever, even before we knew what really happened.
I didn't really want to leave the house, so I called the university, and found that they had cancelled classes for the day.
I stayed home for a few hours, and then headed for my parents house, and for the first time, the home I grew up in didn't feel safe, it just felt like a house.
By the way, no one has ever asked me where I was. I didn't think that this would have become trite already.

I didn't hear about the attacks until close to 10 am. I had been giving my (then) 4 year old son a bath, getting him ready for his weekly visit from his OT. We went downstairs after the bath and discovered that my husband had left a phone message - all he said was that he was worried about a friend of ours who worked at the Pentagon. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I turned on the TV. It wasn't until that very moment that I realized I had been living in a naive, blissful fog of thinking that I had brought my son into a safe, secure and happy world, despite his recent diagnosis of Asperger's.

The OT arrived and we both tried very hard to carry on with our usual routine with my son. Shortly after she left, my husband arrived home from work. As we were sitting in our kitchen, we heard a plane overhead (we lived only a few miles from Dulles Airport at the time). We both froze, until we realized that it was a military plane.

Six years later, despite now living 70 miles from Washington DC, I know I will never feel the security that I took for granted before 9/11 for myself and my family, particularly my son.

Where was I six years ago today? In the Pentagon, fifth deck, E-ring, 6th corridor. Close enough to hear and feel it, but far enough away to come out safely. When I got to work that morning, I was excited to be there -- after 12 years in the Navy, I was in my first month of my first DC tour.

I remember watching the Towers get hit -- my boss had CNN on in his office. We were stunned, watching. Finally he said "Go back to work, there's nothing we can do right now." We did. A few minutes later, the noise, the shudder of the floor and walls, the smoke, and the people running through the passageways pounding on cipher-locked doors screaming for people to get out (the building didn't have an intercom system then). I remember my boss and coworkers calmly shutting down computers, picking up briefcases and uniform covers, and my boss remembering to spin the lock and initial the check-out sheet on the door as we secured the space and headed for the stairs. I recall that people moved quickly and without chaos, at least where I was. I remember reaching the lawn and everyone sharing cell phones (until the comms went down) so that people could tell their families they were OK. Mostly I remember feeling helpless because I'm not a medical officer, and those of us who weren't were basically just in the way at that point. We mustered to ensure we were all safely out, and then moved out of the way of the first responders, awaiting orders. Finally we were told to simply go home any way possible (I walked, what with the Metro and buses out). Back at work on the 13th, I knew the world was different when I saw the Metro platform at the Pentagon station lined with armed soldiers who would only let you off the train if you were able to show a Pentagon ID badge.

Six years and three operational tours later, I'm writing this from my SECOND tour in the Pentagon. It's overcase here today, not like 6 years ago. I'm glad of that, actually.

Julia @ 8:28 am,

I do remember all the planes and people taken in by Canada. There were many stories about Canadians taking bewildered passengers home and giving them bed and board, just because they needed a bit of help.

The week following 9/11 I was in a small town in upstate New York and thought I'd go to Canada for a day. Ha! I had to content myself with waving at you across the St. Lawrence.

I was attendning a training course at Ft. McCoy, WI. We had just finished a test on the military pay system and I walked out of the class. I was the first one done.

One of the instructors was there waiting for me. He asked me if I had any family in the NYC area. Apparently a plane had hit the WTC and the Commandant wanted to know if anyone attending classes had family in the area. I said no (I was wrong, I forgot about a cousin who lives NYC), and went to the break room.

The towers were on the TV and I watched the coverage while I got a coffee and a snack cake. I sat down just in time to see the second plane. It was myself and two other Soldiers in the break room to see it. From the break area across the hall I heard a couple people gasp, but the three of us were silent.

I was transfixed. Classes were cancelled and all of us were called in for a briefing.

We were told that it was a terrorist attack by an unknown enemy. We were all to contact our units and inform them that we were alright. If anyone had been activated or alerted than transportation would be arranged for them if needed and possible. I contact my commander and was told that we hadn't gotten any word yet, but I'd need to be ready.

I went back to my room and watched the coverage. I went to bed at 2am.

I also remember a scene from CitySlickers which has a surprising 9/11 application.

It was the scene where each of the three friends were answering the question "What was your best day?"

I can't remember his name, but one of them said his best day was throwing his drunken abusive father out of the house. When asked what was his worst day then, he replied "Same day."

It takes only a slight adjustment to make this scene relevant to 9/11.

It was our worst day, but it was also our best day.

I personally want to remember that it was our best day a little more than I want to remember it as our worst day. I think that the positives, the very definite redeeming qualities of the day should receive the greater emphasis even if just by a nose. We were attacked, yes, but our country proved its greatness like never before in how we responded to those attacks. Our country worked under tremendous pressure in an absolutely unprecedented situation. We should remember to be proud of that, just as much as we remember what we suffered and what we lost that day.

I didnt read thru all the comments, but the election was the NY primary and here in NYC it was important because Rudy Giuliani had to step down (term limits) and the winner of the Dem field was widely expected to be the new mayor. Incidentally, Mark Green won and was ahead in the polls until Rudy, by then a national hero, endorsed Bloomberg at the eleventh hour and the rest is history.

I too voted and had just stepped off the subway at the Brooklyn Bridge station and saw a whole mess of people looking up. I looked up and couldnt believe it. Since I worked downtown near there I started walking TOWARDS the WTC and witnessed the second hit with my own two eyes. Thinking back I realized I heard the plane coming in (or is that my mind at work?) which is unusual cuz there is no air traffic allowed over the city.

I was one of the stunned throng who witnessed the fall in person and had the dust coat my clothes. This left of center Dem is now a Rudy Republican.

My mate called me into the kitchen (she likes to watch while doing kitchen stuff) after the first plane hit.

I said to her that it was a very unusual accident (I work in aerospace) and that a lot of things had to go wrong for an airplane to hit a building.

So it was interesting and we kept watching and switching channels to get the news. I even remember seeing Couric pontificating.

Then the second plane came into view.

Four seconds before it hit I told my mate: "This means war".

I was on the way to get an oil change.
I talked with the mechanic, we were both shaken.
I too remember how still it was at night with no planes in the air. What would happen next? Would the next shoe drop soon?
I don't want to forget. I wish the networks would stop the boycott of showing images from that day. I read that they sent actors dressed as Muslims to Nascar to try to provoke a reaction. It seems like they always want to prove that Americans are no good, that America is always at fault. "Quick, get them back into the cocoon."
Not me, buck-o.

I was in college at the time, and I live on the west coast. I remember the radio-alarm coming on, and instead of the normal music or early morning banter from the morning crew, there was somber discussion. I sprang out of bed and turned on the TV. I'm not sure if this was before or after the second plane hit, if it was before I simply don't remember it happening (perhaps I've blocked it out).

I remember watching TV as the towers burned, thinking "they'll stay up." So I went to take a shower.

By the time I was out, the first tower had fallen.

I went up going to class that day, but they closed campus a half hour after I arrived.

I was at work, as an IT contractor in a federal government office building in Reston, Virginia. My wife phoned to tell me about the first plane crash - I wasn't particularly interested at first, as I had a work-related issue to deal with. Later, at a user's desk, we looked up a news site and saw the pictures and first report of the crash. Later on, I remember standing in a group of co-workers looking at a television. Everyone was silent, but when the first tower came down, one person said "Oh my God".

About 10 minutes later we were all sent home as the federal government was closing for the day. Before leaving, and on the way home, I was hearing confused reports - there was a car bomb at the State Department, the Capitol building was in flames.

I was listening to C-SPAN Radio on the short drive home, and I vividly recall one caller who said, in high dudgeon, that this was all because George W. Bush had been "se-LEC-ted" to be President. I couldn't believe my ears that she was casting this terrible day in partisan terms - well, I take that back, I could believe it, but I found it outrageous.

One other detail, on the drive home, I seriously wondered if I would see a mushroom cloud in my rear-view mirror...

I had just woken up my nearly 6 month old daughter for her morning feeding. I sat down on the recliner in the living room, turned on the TV to ABC, expecting to see the beginning of Regis & Kelly, but instead, saw clips of the first plane hitting the tower. With my daughter, blissfully nursing in my arms, I watched as the second plane hit the south tower. I watched in horror and confusion, thinking of my five-year old son who was in school, enjoying one of the first days of Kindergarten. I desperately waiting for answers. Diane Sawyer said there was an explosion. No one knew for sure. I continued to watch the news coverage wondering when the towers would fall. They soon did, and I called my husband and my mom, hoping they might have answers I did not. I still recall the feeling of terror, thinking I could not wait to get to the day when we had answers, when we knew what happened, how, yet the day progressed in silence.

This morning, I explained to my 12-year old son and 6-year old daughter that their schools would have a moment of silence at 8:46 a.m. I asked them what they would think about during that moment of silence. Their answers? Freedom and the soldiers who risk their lives for our freedom.

On my way in to work, I listened to the host of a local radio show (I live in the Detroit area), ask, "When should we stop remembering? How long is too long to have these remembrance ceremonies on September 11?" My answer is the same as it was on September 11, 2001. We should never forget. The annual remembrance ceremonies should go on forever; as we remember the attacks on Pearl Harbor, we should remember the attacks on New York City, the Pentagon, and Flight 93. Between September 12 of one year to September 10 of the next, too many people forget. To remind them one day out of the year is just enough, I hope, to remind them of what America stands for, that those people did not die in vain, that America will never forget and will never give in.

Mr. Lileks, I look forward to the day when my children have a much better understanding of what happened on September 11 (though I suspect no one will ever truly understand), and I hope that when you have that conversation with your daughter, she is able to understand why that one event was so important.

I was in a sales meeting at the radio station where I work, when the news director stuck his head in the door to say that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. We resumed the meeting until he returned, looking shaken, to tell us that a second plane had struck the other tower. The meeting ended, and we scattered, most of us going home to be with our families as we tried to make sense of what was happening. The WTC attack and the Kennedy assassination are the two events in my lifetime of which I have vivid memories and nearly total recall of my surroundings at the time.

I was a senior in college, eating breakfast in front of the TV in an off-campus apartment. I was watching MTV, and decided to flick on the news. This was right when it happened, when only one plane had hit, and I figured it was just some idiot in a Cesna who hit it by accident.

It soon became obvious that it was much more than that. I drove to campus, and had one class - the professor kept teaching despite the fact that nobody knew what was going on, and despite the fact that many students had family who worked in the area and didn't know if they were affected. I had a break after that class, and then the college cancelled class for the rest of the day.

I remember spending a lot of time those days watching TV - not only at home, but around TV's set up around the college, in groups of people, all staring blankly.

I was just waking up when my wife came rushing in, screaming that the World Trade Center had been attacked again. I turned on the news and watched the towers burn and fall, and learned that the Pentagon had been attacked and that another plane was thought to be up there somewhere, looking for a building to crash into.

And I was relieved. A great burden had been lifted from me. You see, I had been expecting mushroom clouds over Washington DC and Manhatten for years. 8 years of feckless, uncoordinated, inept foreign policy by the Clinton administration had convinced me that the Islamists would attack and attack with their most powerful weapons, which I was afraid were A-bombs either stolen from the Russians or sold to them by the North Koreans or Iraqis. My nightmare was tens, hundreds of thousands of Americans killed, our economy ruined, and our country fractured and splintered. A nuclear attack would have been the end of the Constitution and the Republic itself, followed by a long, steep slide into tolitarianism and fascism endorsed by the survivors.

In a sense I counted us lucky. The damage was heartbreaking and the deaths unconcionable but IT REALLY WASN'T THAT BAD. We could have had entire cities reduced to rubble if the terrorists had had any real power but they didn't. What did happen hurt like being stabbed with a pin but it was still only a pinprick: We could survive this, learn from this, grow from this, and strike back full and hard, hard enough to teach the rag heads never, EVER to screw with us again.

I was puttering about getting breakfast (PDT) and the phone rang. It was my wife calling from the airport-she had been picked up at 3AM-GEG is 80 miles away-she had just been evacuated from the plane and told all flights had been cancelled and to turn on the TV.

I was shocked. I intuitively knew from the first strike that it was not an accident. Minutes later, everyone, and I, positively knew. It took me hours to pull myself together.

My wife called back and asked me what I thought of taking the train to NYC. I advised her to drop it, sure that her company wouldn't permit it anyway.

"...nothing to do with terrorism..."

...except helping out with the first WTC bombing in '93; and harboring and giving sanctuary to the perpetrators of that act, Abu NIdal, and many others; and paying bounties to the families of suicide bombers in Israel; and providing a training ground for terrorists at Salman Pak; and targeting American pilots -- one of whom happens to be a cousin of mine -- enforcing the no-fly zone for more than 10 years.

No, Islamic terrorism never existed before Chimpy's War, and Saddam's Iraq had nothing to do with it either. And if you tie the blindfold tightly enough, and put your fingers deeply enough into your ears, you can go right on believing.

How soon we do forget, truly. But then, I suppose you can't call it forgetting if you don't really know anything in the first place.

was at home with my kitten I got the day before. He was still recovering from neuter surgery, so we were just hanging out watching CNN and saw the 2nd plane hit, live on the air. Woke up my then hubby and told him you have to see this. then got online, talked to my friends overseas. Mom chimed in online that she was glad I was home not overseas. Buckley AFB 5 minutes from my apt had jets overhead what seemed like every 20 minutes a another jet was taking off patrolling the sky, unlike the silence that James was describing.

I now live in eastern Scandinavia in a small city, the very few Americans here. Lots asking for my thoughts. Mostly today trying to listen to radio stations from home to be with my country even if I am not physically there.

My cat peacefully sleeping on his kitty be din bliss. My heart and soul are at home, more so on days like today.

I remember exacty where I was when I heard the news. I was in my car at the corner of 5th and Downing St. in Denver, CO when I turned on the radio and heard Bush speaking. I turned north on Downing and he stated talking about an apparant terrorist attack on the WTC and the Pentagon. I immeadiately pulled over and called my wife and told her to turn on the TV as my brother worked on the 89th floor of the WTC. She was silent for a while then started weeping and couldn't really speak. Right at that moment, I knew that my brother was dead.

For some bizzare reason I drove to work in shock. Everyone was crowded around a TV and someone mentioned that one of the towers just collapsed. I asked to no one in particular which tower just collapsed and no one answered. I finally raised my voice a bit and someone said Tower two. I went back to my office and closed the door and loooked for my brothers business card. Unable to find it, I called his wife who was hysterical because she had just been talking with him before the tower collapsed and knew he was still in the building at his desk. At that point I left the office and told my assistant that I was going to Connecticut and that I will be gone for a few weeks. I drove home and was watching the news with my wife in disbelief. My wife's neice and two friends were staying at our house and were sleeping and I had my wife wake them up as they needed to see this. We needed to get them a car as they were supposed to fly home that day so we worked on that a while. My wife finally located a car and took them to pick it up and I took my one year old son to the park. That was the first time I cried watching him play, while knowing that the world had just changed. The rest of the day was spent packing for the trip back east. We left September 12th at 6:00 am and got to Connecticut on the 14th. I went down to NYC that day and went to the family center at the 24th street Armory. I could not beleive all of the pictures of missing loved ones and almost vomited from the sheer magnitude of it all. I did a short scan of the hospital lists to no avail. Knowing that my brother was on the 89th floor, I never had any hope at all so I was just going through the motions. That was the worst day of my life.

The memorial service was two weeks later.

I was driving from one client to another with a couple guys from my firm. We heard the Pentagon was hit. I told "They hit the Pentagon! This is a f--king war!!"

I was on 26th street and 8th avenue leaving my apartment with my wife. A number of people were gathered around a tv watching what looked like a fire in the world trade center - someone quickly explained a small plane had accidentally crashed so I said huh, and walked out of my building. A block later we passed a women who was frantically screaming into her cell phone. I would find out later her husband was talking to her from one of the top floors. I stood on the corner of 26th and 7th and watched and cried with hundreds of other people who were all helpless to do anything else but watch.

I can't remember how long it was before I no longer noticed the smell which seemed to linger for weeks.

I was home, got a phone call, went outside, and will always remember the smoke coming over Ft. Tryon Hill, as if there was a bonfire at The Cloisters. That's 13 miles away, the opposite end of Manhattan. I remember no planes except for military jets, for days, which is weird since planes turn into the descent to LaGuardia over my neighborhood. I remember how long it took for the flight paths to slowly return to normal. I still notice that every day. I remember the days (far too many) when Broadway was shut down in my neighborhood for all the funerals at the local parish church. The guy who played the bagpipes at all those funerals lives down the street from me, and I remember those days every time I walk past his window and hear him practicing.

But don't ask me about it. Ask the families of the 30 people in my neighborhood who died that day - cops, firemen, mailroom clerks, electricians, busboys. Ask my friend who showed up for work at the book store in the basement of Tower II as the second plane hit and watched everything she knew collapse around her. Ask the families of the people we knew who worked at Windows on The World that morning. Ask all the people who live in my neighborhood who escaped, and walked the 13 miles to the opposite end of Manhattan where we live, covered in all of it.

I am tired of remembering, but that's only because it is so exhausting every time. How can it not be, unless you're a Truther who doesn't believe the words of those who butchered my neighbors? I will never stop remembering.

There's still a big hole in the sky when I look down there. You bet I'm tired of being asked to forget that. But I won't.

I was getting kids to preschool at Jewish Community Center when I heard on NPR that a plane hit WTC. Like many others, I assumed it was a small plane. I asked the receptionist at JCC about upcoming demonstration of solidarity with Israel which was then in the middle of another suicide bomb wave. When I returned home, I saw the giant fire and the second plane hitting on TV. They just had a fire on top of TV tower in Moscow, so what I was thinking was "Let's see if our firemen are better than the Russian ones". I could not concieve of the tower collapse. When the Cloud happened, it was like a death of the world. I had been to WTC a few months before 9/11. One thing I could not get over was a conversation with a restorant worker there. Just the usual banter while she was dishing out our food. I thought about her for months. I stll think of her time to time.

I was in the car on the way to work - heard about one plane and immediatly thought about the prop planes I take from Newark to Albany on my way to see family. By the time I was upstairs and into our weekly staff meeting I realized I was really, really wrong. We stayed together in the conference room for a while with the TV on, wandered up and down the hall - no one talked a lot. Just before the first tower went down one of my co-workers howled "I see people jumping, oh my God!" I leaned in, disbelieving, and as I did the tower disappeared. I can hear her voice and see it in my mind's eye still.

My husband called after a while - he'd been at an appointment all morning and really didn't have a clue. I told him I didn't want him at work and he brushed me off. 20 minutes later he called back. He'd seen the TV, not just heard the words. He was going home, he said, and for the first time ever he ordered me to do something - "go home NOW!" We stayed home and tried not to watch, so our 18 month old wouldn't see.

I didn't cry. For the longest time I couldn't. 6 weeks later our son was in ICU for 5 days, and at that point I cried - for him, for everything that had happened, for the nurse from ER who came to visit (a friend of my aunt), who'd lost her only son that day. It was such a relief to finally grieve.

Thanks for asking, James.

I was in Lower Manhattan at work.

I was in Berkeley, CA, where I was a grad student, and I was sleeping in when the phone rang. By the time I saw the news, the first tower had already collapsed. I just remember being so confused at the tower of smoke wondering how it could obscure the remnants of a collapsed 100+ story building. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that it had become that cloud.

And then even dumber, I remember the fear as I read the tickertape at the bottom of the TV screen, where all of the "local news" was listed--they'd closed the Golden Gate bridge and the Transamerica tower and schools were in lockdown, and at the beginning I didn't understand if that meant SF had been attacked too, or Chicago, or LA or what. But then it became clear it was just fear, or hubris, thinking those things would be attacked.

My husband and I stayed home watching all day. We only left to have dinner, and all of Berkeley was deserted. We weren't really interested in going out to eat, but we had no groceries. But no one was out in town. No cars, no people on the streets. I think we all thought there might be riots, not actually sure what the Leftists would be thinking. I would find out soon enough, the very next day in fact, when the chair of my dept would tell me that we had it coming during our weekly lunch seminar. But not that night. That night, there was just shock, horror, pain and tears.

Like the people in the Towers, I was at work. I had my own office in those days, and that allowed me to have a radio, which was tuned to a college radio station that, up until that morning, was only nominally NPR-related. It mostly played eclectic music and almost NEVER mentioned public affairs or current events, which was why I liked it. After a song, the DJ came on and said that "a small plane" had hit the World Trade Center. Like it did for a lot of people, that first flash of news brought to mind the 1940s incident with the Empire State Building. I wandered into the office of the woman next door and told her about it. We thought it a weird little news item. I went back to my desk. The station had gone back to music. I was trying to finish something I was working on, so I turned the radio off for a bit so i could concentrate. A little while later somebody poked their head into my office. "Did you hear about the planes?" "There's more than one?" "Yeah a second one just hit." I got a chill. I got up and followed my co-worker into a conference room where a TV was on. Just as I got in, they reran the footage of the second plane hitting. "Could it be some sort of weird accident?" somebody in the room asked. "One plane is an accident," I said. "Two planes is terrorism." I went back to my desk, thunderstruck.
Several of my coworkers were at a conference in another city. It would be more than a day before they could rent a car and drive home together. Not a very comfortable journey.
I remember railing to coworkers that morning about airport security, how lame it was. Little did I know it would only get lamer.
I tried to call up CNN.com. It wouldn't load. Neither would Drudge. That's one thing a lot of people forget about that morning: The internet was useless until about mid-afternoon because everybody was trying to call up the major news sites all at once. After a couple of hours a lot of the sites put up very basic, stripped down pages, mostly text, that would load quickly, and it was weeks before CNN's pages were graphic- and code-heavy again.
Other things have changed, too.
Now that college station, which sometimes even forgot to put its station ID on at the top of the hour, plays an NPR News update every hour like clockwork. No escaping reality (or NPR's worldview).
Ribbons of news updates run along the bottoms of our screens during newscasts and we forget that they were almost unheard of (except for the occasional weather alert) before that morning.
Of course, they can't compare to the loss of lives and the psychic damage done to a lot of people, but there were also a lot of weird little casualties. Several Broadway shows, some already performing, some getting ready to debut, were summarily cancelled when it became clear that tourists were unlikely to make Manhattan a destination for a while. One was a revival of a favorite play of mine, "A Thousand Clowns." Summarily cancelled. A movie was slated to debut that Friday: "Big Trouble" based on a very funny book by Dave Barry. Unfortunately, the plot involved shady characters with a bomb on a plane, and scenes mocking airport security. It was quietly sent to home video. And there was a kid show my daughter (then a pre-teen) really loved. It was for older kids, quirky and featured a bit of comedic cartoon violence--well, not even violence per se, but intensity. One episode depicted an (empty) building falling down. The show disappared from the airwaves for about a year before quietly returning, only in reruns.
There were a lot of little cultural disappearences like that.

Most important day in my lifetime was 20 July 1969: "The Eagle has landed". But that's not what you're asking about.

I was at work in Norfolk VA, and we were hurting with the dot com bust, no bids, nobody to call until the West Coast woke up. First we thought it was a small plane--okay, no big deal. Then it was a jetliner. Then it was a second plane and I knew it was an attack. My wife was on the way to DC, on a route past the Pentagon. I dialed her cell, couldn't get through, waited thirty seconds and hit redial. Repeat for about 40 minutes till I could get through. Meanwhile couldn't get most news sites to load.
Thinking "I'm within five miles and downwind of one of the best targets on the East Coat." Waiting for news of an attack in our city, trying to figure out how to pick up my son from school, then get out of the city, while staying out of fallout--how could any moron be so idiotic as to attack us without disabling our navy and Marines?
Thank God my wife had been delayed in traffic, didn't get to Pentagon until after the plane hit.

My wife and I were packing that morning for a trip and listening to Hugh Hewitt, whose show was on in the mornings at the time. My wife said, "Something big is happening."

I thought for a moment and remembered that there'd been a minor earthquake in California the day before. "Oh, that's just Hewitt. He thinks every little event in California is national news."

But a minute or so later he made some reference to how hard it was for resuce workers to get into a building when an airplane crashes into it like that. We looked at each other and said, "Let's go turn on the TV."

I saw what everybody else saw. I sank down on the couch remembering that Colin Powell had just been chiding the Israeis for not being nice enough to the Palestinians, and the first words out of my mouth were, "Welcome to Israel."

-- Boot of the Beast (a few will get it.)

Airplanes are amazing things. You can set foot on one, and step off two hours later into a completely different world.

The morning of 9/11 I was on the 6:00 AM United flight from Denver to Chicago O'Hare. The only indication that something was amiss was as we pulled to the gate, and the pilot announced that the FAA had just declared a nation-wide "ground stop", and that all passengers had to exit the plane in Chicago.

It was at this point that experienced travelers were starting to worry, as the only things I could think of that would cause every plane to be grounded was either that the antiquated Air-Traffic Control system finally collapsed, or that something truly horrible occurred, such as a nuke going off somewhere.

Unlike everyone else watching TV or listening to the radio that morning, the United concourses at O'Hare seemed to be running under a virtual media blackout, as the CNN television displays were offline, and the cellphone network was so jammed that it took 10-20 minutes to make a call, if you were lucky. Consequently, I found out what happened in bits and pieces over the course of the morning.

For the longest time after that, every time I flew somewhere, I didn't worry so much that the plane I was on would be a target, but I would instead find myself wondering what sort of world I would land in today...

I am a retired Firefighter/HazMat Specialist.

I was home, watching the local news (KTLA), when the first plane hit. It was reported that "a light plane had hit the World Trade Center".

Knowing the size of the structure, and the size and shape of the aircraft, I knew it wasn't a 'light plane'.

Based on the size, intensity and rapid spread of the fire I knew it was a commercial aircraft.

Then, while one building burned, the second plane hit. The flames shooting through the structure indicated that the second aircraft was traveling at a high rate of speed.

With both structures fully involved, I knew that the Incident Commander had called for a 'Fire White', that is : 'all available units that can hear this, respond to this location'. This means a multi-County, multi-State response.

When the buildings began to lose structural integrity and pancake, I realized that not anyone left in the structure was going to survive, and the hundreds of Firefighters staged below would not be able to escape.

Most did not.

I wrote to your Blog that day James, thinking how ironic that it happened on 911.

Thank you for writing in response.

I was recalled to semi-active status three hours later because of my HazMat experience.

I cried, off and on for the rest of the day.
I wasn't alone.

The Pentagon Metro station has not been moved across Shirley Highway (I-395). Poster must be thinking about Pentagon City station. Access to and from the Pentagon station has become more controlled, but it is still there.

I was under the wing of a SWA flight fueling it during a small rush. I walked into Operations to drop the fuel ticket and grab the one for the next flight that was already at the gate, and the following flight that was in range and due in 5 minutes or so. The Coordinator and one of the ops agents were chatting about something hitting the WTC. One had heard it was a Cessna and the other said some bozo claimed it was a SWA flight.
I fueled the next flight, rushed over to the following flight and as I was finishing paperwork on the first flight and checking pressures, etc. I noticed the belt loaders we off and the bag handlers had disappeared.
The flight was slightly late, and that confused me. I went up in the jetway to drop my ticket but the paperwork was not there, so I went back into operations.

A second flight had hit. . . I really wasn't at all shocked.
I don't tend to panic and am quite cynical, so I just watched.

"Move the Fuel trucks away from the planes!"
We did

I walked back into Ops and looked at the breakroom TV. A guy I really didn't get along with was staring. . .
Wait, what happened to the other tower?
he said, in a daze "it. just. fell"

SWA:"We want you to move the fuel trucks as far away from the terminal as possible"
Airport Ops: "And as far from the fences as possible"

After it was verified the air was closed for at least that day, my supervisor sent us home and said he'd call if anything came up, stay close to the phone.

15 minutes after we left, he was sent, with all the rest of the workers still on airport grounds, to the Hilton and the grounds were searched. I left at noon, he was still stuck there until 9pm or so iirc.

Just read the bleat. Truly sad to read your melancholy over the lack of all out war with Iran. 9/11 is a deep, profound tragedy, so we should have defeated those responsible, not invade countries that didn't attack us. A lack of confidence is precisely the opposite of why Iraq has been such a debacle from the moment the statue of Sadam was toppled.

I was preparing to move to New York at the end of September and had a preperatory business meeting scheduled in midtown for the afternoon of September 11th. The plan was to fly on on Monday night, attend the meeting, and return home to Chicago on Tuesday evening.

I flew into Laguardia the night before, and it was only my third time in the city. I was staying with a friend in Gramercy and took a taxi to 57th street, opting to walk the rest of the way so I could take in the sights and start getting a feel for the city I would be calling home in a few weeks time.

The evening was pleasant and I enjoyed the sights of all the beautiful women walking up and down Park Avenue.

Met up with my friend, had a nice dinner together and caught up. She retired early, and I stayed up late watching cable.

The next morning, of course, everything went to Hell.

I slept through the early part and was eventually awakened by the television reporting the horror that was going on a mere three or so miles to our south.

I tried to approach the World Trade Center and volunteer, but I couldn't get south of 14th Street. In the days ahead, the no-cross line would be moved, first to Houston, then Canal. I never did learn how anyone got close enough to volunteer, and in the end I could do nothing. I even tried giving blood, but surprisingly the local hospitals were all flush with more donations than they could take.

My cell phone was dead, and I was unable to get a call through to anyone in my family just to let them know I was okay. My mother was very concerned, but there was nothing I could do to reassure her.

I wandered around, first heading south, then later north, eventually topping the northern edge of Central Park, listening obsessively to the radio, first trying to get information from the programs on WABC and later listening to the unusually somber, serious and angry programming on comedy talk WNEW. Opie & Anthony and The Ron & Fez Show devoted their airtime to talking phone calls and letting their audience vent their sorrow, their anger and their confusion.

The streets were sparsely populated and quiet, but I lacked the frame of reference then to appreciate how odd that was, or how unusual that all the businesses were shuttered. I didn't even quite realize how unusual the smell was or how out of place the falling pieces of paper were, even in a city as notoriously filthy as Manhattan.

The following night there was a bomb scare at the Empire State Building, requiring an evacuation of my friend's block, so we scrambled, somewhat frantically, to get out of the danger area. Of course, it all amounted to nothing, and we were eventually allowed to return to her apartment.

Later that night she opted to leave Manhattan when an opportunity arose, but I stayed put since I didn't really know what to do and still had to figure out how I was going to get back to Chicago since all the flights had been cancelled.

Her high-speed Internet connection was still up somehow, and I spent some time online trying to get more news and information. I saw a lot of leftist posters on message boards expressing outrage over stories that some middle-eastern looking people had been grounded. I saw the first expressions of the "What did we do to make them hate us" mentality, so poisonous and naive.

On Friday, I was able to rent a car and decided to just drive back to Chicago. Traffic in Manhattan was still nightmarish, but eventually, I got out and drove almost nonstop back to the midwest. I took me about 24 hours.

Three weeks later I drove back to New York and have lived here most of the time since. I don't feel the same pang when I don't see the towers that my friends do because, for better or worse, they've always been gone from my memory of the skyline.

No I will never forget that day. I was listening to the radio as I was working and the news came on that a "small plane" had crashed into the World Trade Center in NYC then in a matter of moments they stated that it wasn't a small plane and that another one had hit the 2nd Tower. I have relatives and friends living and working in NYC, I called my parents immediately and told them to start watching the news and I tried calling everyone I knew out there and was unable to get through to any of them. My parents contacted the relatives here to see if they had heard from them, nothing. Then the plane crashed in PA and the Pentagon, I keep thinking this can not be happening to us, this is not real?? All our friends and family were eventually accounted for TG... but I couldn't help but weep for the family and friends of the one's that were not accounted for. I now have a 2 year old son and I am afraid of what the world will be like when he is older?? Can we ever truly be safe again? Lest we forget...

I was sitting in Akbar’s Café one level up from the Path Tracks in the WTC. It had been a slow day for me on Monday and Tuesday I knew would be more of the same, so I was in no rush to get into my office. I was reading the NY Post and sipping coffee when the shock wave blew the doors open. I recall clearly the feel of the wave. The alarm began ringing and the alarm light flashing as the workers ran out of the kitchen and from behind the counter and over to the escalators to go up to street level. I finished my coffee and tossed the cup and my paper into the garbage can then walked over to the escalator bank. I was surprised at how empty it was on that level, I may have been the last person up those stairs. The escalator was a very long one, 2-3 stories at least. As I got to the top smoke was floating through the air and a PA cop standing there calmly telling those in the concourse to exit through the Vesey Street door. I walk out and saw twisted pieces of steel and broken class lying in the street. There was a slight overhang and I walked under that so I wouldn’t be hit by any falling debris. As I walked up the block the 1st fire truck was unloading, the fireman looking up and preparing to go in. I crossed Church St. to the front of the Millennium Hotel and got my first look up at the damage. I was shocked by the size of the hole. There were thousands of sheets of paper drifting through the air, and I asked out loud, “How the fuck did they get a bomb that big up there?” A woman in a WTC staff jacket looked at me with tears running down her face and told me it was a plane. The sky was so blue and clear and beautiful, I felt it couldn’t have been an accident. I walk along Church slowly, with such a feeling of anger and shock. I began to try to call my wife, but my cell could not get through. Everything was overloaded. I stood on the park on the corner of Liberty St. still watching, and noticed the singed papers on the ground and still floating down. They were stock research reports. People who worked in my business. I saw someone plummet to ground, and felt almost physically ill, and an incredible sadness. I decided to get to my office a few blocks away, to try and call my wife and the school my children were attending. As I walked along Broadway I heard the second boom. From the position I was in I couldn’t see the towers, and it wasn’t until I walked into my office that I knew for sure what had happened. I waited up in the office with my co-workers as the towers fell, and the light was obliterated by the dust. The office air became cloudy with the grit. By about 12:30-1PM we were told to evacuate the building and given dust masks to wear. I walked down Broadway to Battery Park trying to thing of how to get to NJ, perhaps ferry to Staten Island the walk around to the Bayonne Bridge. There was about ½” to an inch of grey dust on the ground raising little clouds around the feet of people as the tried to find a way out of downtown. A NYC cop pointed me to were a couple of tug boats were nosed against the sea wall in the park, I climbed over the fence and on to one that took me to Jersey City. The JCPD was on the old pier where we were dropped off, waiting with medical personal, blankets and water, with volunteers who wanted to help, to do anything. I will never forget that, or the JCPD chaplain, a HS classmate of mine, hugging people as they got off the boat and asking how he could help them. The waterfront in JC was sealed off by the police a 2 blocks back the buses were still rolling. I got on one and took to a few blocks from my house where my wife was waiting with my children. I was never so happy to see them as I was on that afternoon. It was a day and some sights I will carry with me to my grave. I pray for the people I knew who died that day and for those I never knew, but especially for that person I saw fall. Please remember to do the same

I remember 9/11/01 because it was an absolutely gorgeous day here in central Indiana -- cool temps, crystal clear skies and the leaves just starting to turn. It was my first semester in my then-new teaching job at a small liberal arts college near Indianapolis. I had a 9:00 AM calculus class and was getting my stuff together when my wife called from her work to tell me that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Like others, I thought it was probably a small plane that hit by accident. I went to CNN.com and the image that came up was the hulking, smoking hole left by the first plane. I thought, Whoa, this is serious.

I kept clicking the reload button and there was the report that a second plane had hit the towers. Immediately I knew that we were under attack, and everything that I knew was smothered by uncertainty. Who was attacking us? Where else were attacks happening? Am I safe? Is my wife safe? Are we going to be under martial law? What the hell is going on?

On the way up the stairs to my classroom there were rumors going around about the Pentagon being hit as well, and as soon as I got into the room I checked the web again, and sure enough it had happened.

At that moment it was my call to either have my calculus class or not have it. Everything within me wanted to go back and hole up in the office and stay updated on what was happening -- or just hole up and do nothing and pretend nothing had happened. I could think of nothing more absurd than trying to carry out a lecture on algebraic limit calculations while I knew, and the students knew, that the whole world was going out of control moment by moment.

In the end I held class. I started by updating the class on what was happening in case they hadn't checked the news or the web yet. Then I told them something I still believe today: That whoever is doing this and for whatever reason, I am sure that one of the things they want us to do is to despair, to give up hope that anything we can do will produce anything of value. For my part, I refuse to give them that satisfaction. Limits and functions may pale in importance to what's happening -- but by studying, by making an effort to learn, no matter what it is, we are denying the enemy the ability to rule over us. Let's get to work and show that there's still such a thing as civilization.

I don't know if any of those students remember how to calculate a limit, but I hope that lesson stuck with them.

I was working near the UN, and our boss told us all to go home, because they thought the UN would be next (there were reports the White House was burning, which was the most disturbing).

I walked outside, downtown toward this huge cloud of smoke, people were gathered on a street corner listening to a car radio of what was happening, it was all very much like a movie. But what I'll remember most was this woman, pretty, in her 30s, smartly dressed in the way NY professional women always are, and she was running toward that smoke, tears streaming down her face, screaming the name of what must have been her husband, over and over, as she ran.

so much changed so much the same
everything changed for everyone forever
people still incredible insufferable impossible unstoppable unlovable unhateable
politicians still arguing agreeing insulting consulting dividing uniting unthinking thinking narrowing-differencing wide-stancing
some voting today who couldn't then others not voting who once had the chance
some working others not some caring others not some crying others not some fighting others not some suffering others not
some dying others not
before i sleep tonight i hug my wife and say peace be to us as i did on that day
six years on sixteen sixty six thousand will there be peace
was there ever

Not in your crying.

Not in your praying.

Not in your outrage.

And you'll never be alone, Brother!

I was working for a professional sailboat racing team at the time (such things do exist), and we were training in California. I got up at my usual 6am, took a shower, and stumbled downstairs to get a bite to eat. My roommate was on the couch watching TV, an untouched bowl of soggy cereal on the coffee table. His only words for me: "They're murdering Americans. On Television. Live." We sat dumbfounded until it was time to go to work. Didn't get anything done at all, and after an hour or two they sent us all home. Nobody could think.

My girlfreind and I had broken up a month before and hadn't spoken much since. We spent the whole day on the phone. Six years later, and our first child is 4 weeks old today.

I was at work that morning, when a coworker who kept a radio on in her office said that a small plane had hit the World Trade Center. We thought, "horrible accident", and then the reports kept coming: It was a large plane, it was a jetliner, then another jetliner hitting the other tower... and that's when we knew. Then later, they said a plane had hit the Pentagon. I remember turning to my colleagues and saying, "That's it, we're at war. If you want to know what war looks like, this is it."

A little later, we walked down to the nearest student lounge and watched the coverage on TV. In the beginning, they still were showing people jumping from the towers. I realized what I was seeing and had to turn away. I don't remember ever being more horrified than I was that day. And I won't ever forget.

I was heading downtown for jury duty. I was between Union Square and Brooklyn Bridge stations on the 4 train when the trains stopped. A transit worker had a walkie talkie and we all started to listen to the description of what was happening. One guy had a radio and was listening to 1010WINS describing what was being said. We waited underground for almost an hour and a half until the train started moving again. Everyone was calm, stunned, unsure of whether to believe that catastrophe was really unfolding on such a perfect September day.

The Conductors connected the front of our train to the train ahead of us, which was attached to the one in front of it and so on and so on, 5 whole trains coupled together. We then all walked forward through what must have been at least 30 car lengths, each the same as the last except for the ads offering english lessons or trips to beautiful destinations.

When we finally walked into Brooklyn Bridge station and came out into the sunlight they were gone substituted instead for two towering plumes of dust gradually merging into one big cloud.

We joined the northward stream of people and walked in what seemed like silence punctuated mostly by the siren of emergency vehicles speeding south. When a group of F-15s arrived overhead to patrol, the whine of their turbines caused some people to momentarilly panic until they could see that it was the Air Force.

I walked for about an hour to my office in midtown where some of my colleagues were downstairs unsure of where to go. They told me to go call my pregnant panicked wife who had been calling to see if I was ok.

I called her and told her that I was ok. I lied and said that it would be ok.

Moochy, I am probably wasting my time saying this, but you don't know what you are talking about. How convenient life must be for you that you can assess blame to George W. Bush for everything that goes wrong in world. You have more teenager hormones flowing than you realize.

Rather a non-descript experience. I had just gotten up, made some coffee, and turned on the Today Show. The screen displayed a panorama of the New York skyline, but it took me a few seconds to figure that out. There were no Twin Towers, and the smoke and dust had started to settle. At first I thought "Chicago? Boston? What's on fire and why are they showing it?" Then I figured it out. I woke my wife and told her someone had knocked down the World Trade Center.

The whole experience ran backwards for me. It was only afterwards we saw the footage of the planes flying into the buildings. I had received a call from my grandmother-in-law asking after my in-laws earlier that morning, and I really couldn't figure out why she had called (I knew they were at home). My in-laws had just come back from tandem rally in Europe, but they had returned on an early flight. Their tandem was (but they were not) on the plane from Boston that flew into the WTC.

I went to work that day, all day. And the next. I figured this had all been done to stop us, to make our lives grind to a sickening halt. As horrified as I was (as we all were), I figured we shouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Never. I will tire of being asked to remember when it pains me to be reminded to breathe.

I was at work in Blue Ash, OH. Managing a training center. When the first reports hit the radio that our receptionist was listening to, we turned the TV on in the conference room and watched the rest in real-time. I only left a few times to call family and others on my team who were on the road. Some had heard, others not. Called my dad, a serious structural engineer, early on; he warned me to be ready for the towers to fall. He knew that they would. Once I knew that all of our people were safe and had places to stay, I called it a day and went home to my family. I had a man teacing a class in NJ, he had to drive a rental car home, the class postponed. The following weekend I drove to Atlanta for a project because there were still no flights available.

My family and friends were safe, but not everyone's and I have never forgotten.

Ask me again. We can sit down together and talk of what really matters - family, friends, God, and country - and what it will take to keep them.

I was in a meeting at Goddard Space Flight Center. People with text pagers started getting the news reports...WTC hit, WTC hit again, State Department hit by a car bomb(later proven incorrect), Pentagon hit. That's when I stood up and ran to a TV. I'm in the AF Reserves, and spent time at The Pentagon. Got to a TV in time to the first WTC fall, and saw initial images from The Pentagon. Had to call my Mom because I'd told her I might be there this week. That was a very tearful phone call.

Stayed at Goddard until they kicked me off campus as part of Fed shutdown. My family knew I was safe and I didn't want to contribute to crazy traffic. A friend on business travel, who'd checked out of his hotel that morning, stayed with us because he couldn't get back into a hotel.

I was working a modified late shift. I worked 10:30am-7pm back then. I was watching Good Morning America. At the very end of the broadcast Diane Sawyer said, "We are now going to take you to the World Trade Center, where something has happened..." With that the camera showed a live shot of flames licking out the side of the building.

They stayed with the live shot, wondering what had happened, there had been reports of a plane, a missile - but no one really knew. They were talking about the time a bomber had hit the Empire State Building way back when....

Then suddenly with the camera still on the building - the image of the 2nd plane racing to the building, and building two exploded and burst into flames... I think we all new at that moment what was going on, we were under attack.

I left for work and on the way heard about the Pentagon, and later the plane in PA.

A lot of our customers work in large buildings. Many started calling in to let us know their building was closing -

About noon - everyone just went home. I don't think management said to - but people just left.

I went home. I cried that day.

I remember sitting on the back steps, and looking up at the sky - and it was quiet. No blinking lights, no contrails. It was very erie.

Ken in PA

I remember the first time I smiled that week. It was a day or two later, and I was alone in my apartment half-listening to an NPR story about the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania. A relative of a passenger had told them that he called from the plane and told her that "we're going to die--but we're going to do something about it." What? I swung around in my chair to listen closely--had I heard that right? Suddenly I was smiling: and it was not a nice smile. More like a feral grin.

Our countrymen had fought back. And they had won.

I was in a design review, when my manager burst in and had us come to view what was happening in NY. I was stunned, having thought it was yet another small plane hitting the tower and watched the second come in. Went to call the wife, who didn't believe me, then she was shocked and concerned for an uncle in the towers. Went home early, hugged the kids and wife, watched the news, didn't sleep that night, and left the next morning to drive down to help the aunt try to find her husband.

We never did find him. They never even found a piece of him. The best they could figure he was at the point of impact of the first plane.

I'm not tired of being asked to remember. I'm furious at being told to forget.

That morning I got up late, because I had taken the day off to drive my new S2000 up into the mountains to a hot springs about 100 miles away. I turned on the TV and I think both towers had been hit at that point.

I was, of course, mesmerized like everyone else, but the day was beautiful and I thought, "Well I can sit here and watch TV all day, or I can stick with my plan." I knew the news would be there when I got back.

So I headed into the mountians. I could not get any radio reception up there so I was out of contact much of the day.

I remember stopping at a gas station to fill up and seeing the video of the towers coming down. I was in a timeless and alienated place. I was stunned, but it was all so out of context that the memory of it is very surreal.

I ended up sitting in a hot pool outside with a large number of Japanese business men...

The day was bizarre.

doug

United 93 was the one slight moment of uplift on that day.

I don't know why but this connects somehow--The image and sounds of the Grenadier Guards Band marching out of Buckingham Palace and playing the Star Spangled Banner choked me up that day.

And on 9/11/2002 I was on vacation in Montreal and all the fire trucks there were flying US flags from the back (as many US firemen do), to honor their bretheren to the south. US flags flying in Montreal, not a sight you see often.

On 11/9/2001 (as the rest of the world knows it) it was evening in Hong Kong and the lights of the city were barely visible through the haze over the harbor. We had just finished dinner and put our little girl to bed after finishing her homework. I went upstairs in our flat on Lantau Island to check my email. I had a "news alert" mail from CNN that said a light aircraft had struck one of the twin towers in NYC. I mentioned this to my wife and recalled that in the 40's a bomber had hit the Empire State building so I wasn't too worried. She turned on the TV to SKY news just in time to watch the second plane hit. I knew right then that it was Osama. We who lived in the far east were used to having to deal with Islamic violence and knew Osama's name even then. We stayed up through the night watching that terrible morning unfold back in the USA. It wasn't easy to go to work the next day as I was in an office on the 79th floor of the then tallest building in Hong Kong. All Americans felt like targets after that. I remember how we were suspicious of everything and rumors ran wild. We were all waiting those first few days for the other shoe to drop. Six years on we still are.
I keep that original email from CNN as a reminder of what I never want to see again.

On a practical level, there's little difference between religious fundamentalists, be they Islamic or Christian. They seek the same thing: subjugation of the masses through brute force.

I was in the basement of the Corning Tower in Albany, the tallest building in NY North of Manhattan, talking with my lab staff of a counter-terrorism biomonitoring lab, when someone came in to say a small plane had hit one of the WTC towers. We discussed the implications, and I described how the B-25 strike on the Empire State Building during WWII had not compromised its structural integrity. About a half hour later the same person came back and said the second tower had been hit, and both were by commercial airliners. I immediately thought and said: "bin Laden". Then more reports, the Pentagon, the State Department, and supposedly there were 8 airliners aloft and unaccounted for. My wife called to say she was watching the TV, and Peter Jennings was making sarcastic comments regarding President Bush's whereabouts in the crisis. Then she shrieked: "The tower just collapsed! It went straight down, pancaked, like one of those controlled demolitions. It's gone, it's just gone!" My boss called us all together for our regularly scheduled weekly staff meeting. It seemed like we shouldn't be letting this divert us from our duties, even though this was not the chemical/biological threat we were preparing for (Anthrax was a few weeks in the future). I returned and finally could see the CNN homepage on my computer; one of its headlines read "Second Tower Collapses" ---- Damn! the bastards really got us good --- I had sent all my staff home, and my boss called me in to say that the Governor was asking the remaining people to leave ---- we did have a 65-story building on top of us. I walked up through deserted halls to the underground bus terminal to pick up the last shuttle to the parking lots. It was just me and the bus driver, and we sat there for about 10 minutes waiting to see if there would be any more customers. There was only this really tough looking redhead slouched up against the wall, idly chewing a toothpick, and wearing a black T-shirt with a clenched fist and a legend proclaiming "IRA Freedom Fighters". I fought back an impulse to jump off the bus and tell him that this was not a morning to be wearing such a T-shirt, but he probably could have mopped up the sidewalk with me. As the bus drove out to the parking lot, there was one of those billboards high atop a pole, and for a moment the sign loomed over one of the beautiful abandoned downtown Catholic churches. In huge black block letters on a white background, was a single word "VAGINA", and a little more very small print advertising the one night only theatrical appearance of the "monologues" of that name, to be presented at the NY state theater. There seemed to be something symbolic in this, and I could imagine some Islamist (I hadn't heard that neologism yet then) pointing out how it represented the decadence of American morals, which justified the necessity of the righteous punishment which had just been visited upon us. My mood was as black as those letters. Not far from where I was on that morning is the NY State museum, now with a large permanent 9-11 exhibit, a collage of newspaper front pages, twisted girders, a flattened fire engine, the mangled engine from one of the airliners, and many other terribly sad artifacts. Conspicuous by it's absence is any mention of the perpetrators of this destruction or their motivations. A fine PC delicacy must be observed. If it were up to me, I'd have a banner hung over the entrance to this exhibit, with letters as large as that billboard, proclaiming "ALLAH'U AKBAR!"

"Just remember that if you are wrong, you will be the first to go. Radical Islamists don't tolerate dissent at all. What an inappropriate posting on a day like this!"

I'm far more concerned about agents of the U. S. Government ending my right to dissent (or even my life) that I am about any "radiacal Islamists" doing so. You should be, too.

Above all it was the moment the Pentagon was hit that sticks out.

I grew up in and around NYC and was in HS the first time the WTC was bombed and I remembered friends frantically trying to get calls through to parents before it became clear that the damage was limited. So I was not entirely unprepared psychically speaking.

But the Pentagon was another creature entirely. That was the moment that I wondered whether this was the start of the Big One.

I think Al Qaeda hit us just as hard as they could without provoking a more decisive response. I think if UA 93 had made it to the White House or the Capitol, the military response would have been much broader, and harsher, and very possibly nuclear. I agree with the peaceniks that perhaps was OBL's goal, to immanentize the apocalypse. I suspect he, and more importantly, his followers and sympathizers, would have quickly suffered a fatal case of buyer's remorse.

He called them "Flagsuckers". I sure miss him.

What a ridiculous, fatuous comment. On a practical level, Islamists fly planes into office buildings, kidnap, behead and bomb indiscriminantly and stone apostates and adulterers.

Yeah, we see all those people killed by Presbyterian Suicide bombers and Baptist IEDs. Happens all the time, doesn't it?

My memories are similar to many already mentioned. I was on my way to work, heard the radio report of the first plane and (being in Minneapolis) assumed it was a small plane in bad weather. Got to work and saw the news on the overhead television, and noticed it was reported as a commercial craft. I called my wife, and was talking to her when the 2nd plane hit. She saw it live - and it disoriented her. Then I stood up to see the tv over my cube wall and saw the replays. There was no work done that day by anyone in that office, and we all were sent home early.

I got home and one of my wife's closest friends was over. Her sister was in NY, and there was some amount of panic about the sister's safety (fortunately she was okay.) And my daughter, all of 15 months old, was in front of the tv oblivious to how we were under attack. She was building two towers with blocks, knocking them over, starting again. She'd been playing that game for a while; it wasn't inspired by what was on the screen. But the contrast in images...that was the height of surreal on a day full of the stuff.

I also remember watching the planes come in to land at MSP, watching them slip behind the IDS tower. I remember the flags being waved on the freeway overpasses, the long lines at the gas station. Holding football practice for a team of 5th/6th grade boys and spending the first chunk of it telling them to retain their childhood and not let the attack turn them into adults too soon. There's plenty of time for that worry.

I remember not sleeping well, listening to the drone of one lonely airplane overhead (I assume it was a fighter, but I didn't see it.) Nothing about that day felt real, but it all felt extremely real. If that makes any sense at all.

Missed this in my last post. I have a friend who flies for United. The last flight he'd piloted prior to 9/11 was one of the ones that went into the Towers. If he'd had that assignment a few days after he did, he'd have been killed (or, knowing him, the terrorists wouldn't have had a chance.)

My brother's Godfather works at the Pentagon, but had that day off. The plane that hit the Pentagon flew just over his apartment building. Again, if he'd have been working, he'd have been in the section that was hit.

I know that I can't understand the loss, fully, of those who had friends and family killed. I don't pretend what fears we had come close to the sorrow many families experienced. I don't know why the people I know were fortunate enough to have been safe. But those close calls impacted us hard.

I was a senior in high school, back in Omaha, NE. I had cut class that morning (only time in four years that I bailed on class) with one of my friends. I got back in time for third period and bumped into my friend Pat in the hallway. Pat had already enlisted in the Navy over the summer (delayed enlistment, he served his four years with honor on board the USS Truman), and he told me that a small plane had hit the WTC. He heard from his recruiter who had called the school to get ahold of him. Apparently the USN wanted him to have a bag packed, just in case. As the day went on, we got more info, at lunch they showed the news the whole time in the cafeteria. By the time afternoon rolled around, teachers weren't even attempting to hold class, we just sat and talked. After school we still had football practice (I have no idea why. To be generous it wasn't the greatest effort in the history of Creighton Prep football). By this time, we all knew that FAA had grounded everything in the air. About halfway through practice we heard jet engines rumbling from the south. After a few moments, a pair of F-16s rocketed overhead, low. About 45 seconds later, a 747 as low as I've ever seen, USA markings with a pair of F-15s off the wings, with another pair of F-16s about 15 seconds behind. President Bush leaving Offutt AFB on his way back to Washington. That woke me up a bit.

I was working in a warehouse at the time. I was pulling my orders for the days deliveries. At first, the news sorta trickled in from the other drivers listening to thier radios. Everyone thought it was a freak accident. When the second plane hit, work pretty much stopped. Someone found a TV. By the time the towers fell, guys in the Guard were calling thier CO's to find out what thier orders were. Ordinary guys were loading up thier rifles. People were walking around talking about killing people and nuking a few countries. I didn't think anyone in our part of the country gave a d@mn about anyone in NYC, but the firefighters bravery proved something basic and manly that long blue lines hadn't and Seinfield had wrecked. Besides, this was our country. Even if you don't like everyone in your family, they are family, you know.

The rumors were crazy that day. Anyone else remember the one about the airliner going down in LA? No one knew what was going on.

So it so happened that my route for that day went to the airport and a site of national security interest. By the time I pulled myself away from the TV, the Guard had been called out and there were Humvees mounting M-2's at all the entrances and state troopers literally every 50' around the complex - and its a huge complex. Here we were 1000 miles from NYC, and it was obvious already that we were at war. Needless to say, I didn't make those stops. My main concern at the time was whether people were going to stay rational. Everyone I worked with seemed ready to kill, and by the afternoon thier were already ugly rumors circulating about the local middle-eastern communities responce to events.

My fears of course were completely unfounded. The next day, the 12th, a bunch of rednecks got thier flags and thier pickup trucks and thier rifles together and went down to the local lebanese ran restrants and surrounded them in a wall of red, white, and blue. They weren't there to intimidate. They were there because they'd had the same thought I did. They were there to protect. Local country music stations asked people to show thier support by ordering food from the resturants and local businesses placed lunch orders.

My wife's experience was somewhat different. She was working in academia at the time. Up on campus, the general tone wasn't, 'We are at war, let's get our guns.', but in fact 'We deserved this. It's about time. We've been asking for it.' She was therefore in a way profoundly more impacted by the events than I was, because at least I could find comfort and comraderie. It's a good thing those rednecks had been fed false rumors about middle easterners, rather than the truth about what happened on campus. Or there would have been some killing.

So that was my experience, and I for one was never therefore able to believe that we were united by events that day.

I know many CC's too. I went to a CC college (two actually.) My father is a pastor, I'm an elder. I can confidently say that every comparison Moochy made between Islamist terrorists and CC's is patently false and demonstrate a level of ignorance that is beyond appalling.

There are wingnuts who call themselves Christian who would use force. But to actually believe they are Christian bespeaks more about the one believing their claims than it does those who falsely assume the title Christian.

I was at United's WHQ just starting up the day when my project lead announced that a plane had hit the WTC. My co-workers and I just assumed it was a Piper or something else small. It was impossible to think that a commercial airliner could stumble so far out of its flight plan that it would have a chance of hitting the tower, let alone that a pilot would be so blind as to not avoid it. Then we found out it was an American plane. Then the second plane hit. Then the rumors floated around that we were unable to contact four of our planes.

The worse part of the day was that I had just started the job. I asked what I could do to help and was just asked to stand-by. I didn't have the knowledge to be able to help except to stay out of the way of the experienced people.

The worse part nowadays is I have a brother-in-law that has bought into some of the conspiracy theories. It is so frustrating to see our planes' records frozen in time on Unimatic, like all planes that experience "incidents", and then have to listen to him on the weekends explain that it never happened.

Remember, ladies and gentlemen: don't feed the troll. Just ignore. Nobody takes him/her seriously.

Although it must take a special, intense kind of stupidity, not to mention sociopathy, to be a troll on a subject like this.

"Yeah, we see all those people killed by Presbyterian Suicide bombers and Baptist IEDs. Happens all the time, doesn't it?"

Have you forgotten Eric Rudolph?

Okay, moochy, that's one. Got any more? Because it happens all the time, right?

The problem is that anybody can claim to be a Christian, and you can't prove they're not. There's no test to take, no knowledge of Christianity need be demonstrated. One simply utters a prayer, and that's about it. Heck, you don't even need to do that...you just say you're a Christian and, like magic, you are one. That's even a selling point of the faith: no test required.

I think as long as Christianity accepts all comers, Christianity as a whole is complict in the evil done by those it shelters.

Ditto for Islam, by the way.

"Remember, ladies and gentlemen: don't feed the troll. Just ignore. Nobody takes him/her seriously." -- from chrism3111

Good point, chrism3111. Well taken. This is detracting from the discussion.

I was at my former job, in the financial aid office of a small private university--we were on a quarter break, so there were no students on campus. One of my coworkers kept a radio on in her cubicle, and she said, "Some doofus just crashed a plane into the WTC." Our director turned on his small TV set to check it out, and called the three of us who were working at that time to "come look at all the smoke." The four of us were watching when the second plane hit. Jim, our director, said, "Girls, this is not an accident."

A few minutes later our executive director came rushing in and ordered us out so that the bosses could meet--there were two groups of students on trips at the time, and one group was out of the country. I remember the door to Jim's office flying open a little later, and him yelling, "The towers are coming down!" We crowded in the tiny space, maybe 10 of us, silently watching.

My husband and I drove home together for lunch, as usual, and the streets were nearly empty. We speculated about whether or not there were any terrorist targets in Kentucky, particularly in Lexington, where we live. That was the first time I'd ever, in 31 years, thought that my hometown may be attacked, and what I would do if it was.

I also remember the service at the National Cathedral, the following Friday. We were leaving the next day for a vacation, and I had taken the day off to pack. I watched the service on TV, and it was beautiful--people of many faiths, all grieving together. I cried all day as I did laundry and packed suitcases.

No, I'm not tired of being asked to remember. As a matter of fact, I feel guilty that I don't remember more often. I pray every day for this country--our president, our soldiers, and our way of life. It seems so much more precious now.

They had just installed tv's in the hallway. I was cutting through on the way to a 9:00 New Testament class. People were jammed up watching the first tv. I asked someone what happened, and they said a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Surely it's an accident, I thought...
Oh how I wish it had been an accident.

When I think of 9-11, one of the things I recall is a pair of missing socks. Let me explain...

The first day of my son's sophomore year in HS began in a very memorable way the fall of 2001: he came home from school not feeling well, and by midnight was in the hospital being prepped for an appendectomy. So after a topsy-turvy week, our household was finally settling back to a normal routine by the morning of September 11, 2001. I was looking forward to having some quiet moments to myself once everyone had gotten off to school & work.

Unfortunately, the day got off to an unsettling start. It was school picture day for my youngest daughter, a 7-yr-old 2nd grader who had just begun attending the gifted program at a new school across town. The night before, we'd carefully selected her special outfit, which coordinated right down the socks. When she was getting dressed that morning, however, the socks turned up missing. I had one of those mommy meltdown moments, despite my husband's very rational insistence that her socks weren't going to be in the picture anyway. The socks finally turned up, and I calmed down, chalking up my overreaction to the stress we'd been under the previous week.

As my daughter & I waited for her bus a few minutes later on that clear & beautiful morning, I wondered to myself why I'd gotten so upset about something so trivial as her socks. Normally I hardly even paid attention to which socks she was wearing. Suddenly, a horrible thought crossed my mind: I inexplicably recalled the 1995 bombing of the Murrah Federal building, and the famous gut-wrenching photo of the fireman carrying out a year-old baby who had perished. I remembered seeing the child's mother interviewed later, who said that she had realized this was her daughter by recognizing her baby's clearly visible socks. Omg, was this why I'd obsessed about my daughter's socks that morning, because something terrible was going to happen and I would need to know this later to identify her? I was struck by an irrational feeling of dread so incredibly strong that I very nearly brought her back into the house to keep her home that day. I resisted, but it was all I could do to put her on that bus.

I returned to the house, poured a hot cup of coffee and sat down to regain my composure. I turned on the computer, and the first thing that caught my eye was the fine-print under Top Headlines that read, "Small plane hits World Trade Center." I turned on the TV and joined the rest of the world in witnessing the unthinkable.

From then on, I best remember the day in snatches. Watching in speechless horror as the first tower collapsed; even the talking heads on TV did not immediately grasp what had actually happened. I remember hearing the first words about the Pentagon having been struck, and about a plane missing "somewhere SE of Pittsburgh." In those moments, the situation moved from NYC to everywhere, and it was then that I first looked over my shoulder and thought to myself, "What happens next? What do I do?" I called my brother, a pastor in rural south central Pennsylvania, and could not reach him. I kept trying.

Then I remembered, almost ridiculously, that I had promised to drop something off at my middle daughter's school, so I dutifully ran over there. Perhaps there was something calming about running a normal errand. The atmosphere at the school, however, was anything but normal; it was surreal, hushed. I went up to her classroom, and one by one, all the teachers on the floor came out in the hall, whispering, wanting to know what was happening without scaring their pupils. I brought them up to speed, telling them that the towers had collapsed, and were completely obliterated. I will never forget the stunned looks on their faces.

I returned home to find a message from my brother, calling from his cell phone. He had been doing a funeral at a small church with no phone, radio or TV. No one inside had yet heard the news. When he called me, he said that he was only getting partial reception on his car radio, but was catching enough to understand that something very major had happened, although he did not yet know what. He finished the message with the remark, "I think I'd better find a television." As it turned out, he was only 20-25 miles away (as the crow flies) from the crash of United Flight 93, and it was later calculated that if this plane had remained in the air only another couple of minutes, it might have crashed in his immediate area. We still marvel that despite having been in such relatively close proximity, he was one of the last people to learn what was transpiring that morning.

Despite the reassurance of having made contact with my brother, I was far from relaxed. It was not yet clear that all planes were accounted for, and we simply did not know at that point if more shoes would drop. I became very concerned that other locations may be involved before the day was over. With that came the concern over transportation or communication systems breaking down. Since my youngest daughter was across town, I decided to pick her up early from school. Even if nothing else happened, I could shield her from hearing about it from some other kid on the bus and tell her in my own way. I calmly picked her up, explaining to her that we were going to have a special surprise mother-daughter afternoon. We kept the TV off, read books and played games.

In the middle of the afternoon, after the planes were gone from the sky, I heard the drone of an engine, almost like that of a small plane. I panicked, ran outside, and looked at the sky all around. Foolishly I realized that the noise was coming from a riding lawn mower down the street. My daughter was extremely puzzled by my odd behavior. Later, we talked about what had happened. I knew that if I didn't tell her, someone else would. I tried to prepare her for the possibility that she might see some very frightening images in the coming days. She was the same age then as yours is now, Mr. Lileks, so no doubt you might be able to envision this scenario and reflect on what you might have said or done in the same situation.

I was living in CA at that time and I was still in bed - my son called me from MN and told me a plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers. I was half asleep and couldn't quite comprehend what he was talking about. He got frustrated with me and said, "Go turn on the TV, Mom!!!". I went to work and only 4 of us were there so we went to the Red Cross Blood Bank and volunteered for the day! It gave us something better to do than sit and be depressed watching TV. It was amazing how many people turned up to give blood!!!

Anyway, I hope we never forget! We can't forget!

I was on Interstate 65 in North Alabama, racing on my way to work, trying not to be late for an 8:30 (Central) meeting, when one of the DJs mentioned that they'd received word that two planes had collided with one of the World Trade Center towers in New York. My first thought was to wonder how two planes could hit the same building, and the only thing my mind could conjur up was that a couple of small planes must have collided in midair and fallen into the tower.

What a difference time makes.

I always turn on the radio and TV while going through the morning routine and getting ready to leave for work. Then turn on the car radio soon as I'm in it. For some reason on 9-11, I did none of those things. I have no idea why not. But I was halfway to work when it suddenly dawned on my that the car radio was silent.

So I switched it on, and instead of the usual AM sports talk locals, it was Peter Jennings's voice. I knew right away something was weird. Then he said an airliner had crashed into the Pentagon. I thought "No way, not an airliner, must be some idiot in a Cessna; stupid journalists." Then I switched to another station and they were reporting a plane crashed into the WTC.

So then I realized some serious terrorism was afoot, and I did u-turn and went back home to follow the news.

I remember it distinctly. I was at the office in Crystal City, a section of Arlington, Virginia not far from the Pentagon. I remember a co-worker mentioning that a plane had hit the World Trade Center, and like many of the commenters, I assumed that it was a smaller plane, like the B-25 that struck the Empire State Building in World War Two. It soon became evident that the plane was by no means small, and that it was no accident.

Meanwhile, we had other fish to fry. The Pentagon got hit. People began leaving D.C. and Arlington as fast as they could. We heard a rumor that the State Department headquarters in Foggy Bottom had been struck. A co-worker whose husband worked at State was in near-panic, made worse by the fact that phone communication was nearly impossible that day. The poor woman couldn't get hold of her son's baby sitter. After numerous attempts, I finally got a call through to my wife. I told her I couldn't say for sure when I would get home. Looking out the windows of our building, I could see that U.S. 1 southbound was a parking lot. I couldn't imagine I-95 being any different. I remember taking the elevator to ground level and walking outside, looking at groups of people talking, crying quitely. Looking up, I suddenly felt very vulnerable, wondering if another plane was going to drop on us at that very moment.

When I finally got home that day, I went for a walk around the neighborhood with my eldest daughter, who was in high school at the time. She talked of her terrified schoolmates whose parents worked at the Pentagon, of how they decided in band class to just play as hard as they could to take their minds off of what had happened. I didn't have much to add. I had buddies at the Pentagon, too (they came through OK).

I arrived at work very early the next day. I stood outside our building in the grey dawn, wondering what seemed different. I realized it was the smell: sickly sweet, like burning plastic. We were downwind from the Pentagon, which was still burning. My memory of the next few weeks is a little shaky. My Air Guard unit was activated; though I wasn't needed full time, I did spend a couple extra weeks down there helping out. I remember walking through Annapolis with my family and my parents when operations in Afghanistan began. And I remember thinking things might never be the same again.

I was at home when I first heard the news, but I had to leave for work right away and I remembering yelling out loud as I listened to the radio in the car as I drove. I must have looked insane. By the time I got into work, everyone was in the media room watching the news on the big screen TV just as the first building collapsed. I remember saying, "Surely they must have evacuated everyone by now." But of course they hadn't, and never could have in that short time--but I had hoped.

Did your daughter make the "Go Ask Dad" cards herself, or is there someplace to buy them?

Moochy, you make me sick.

My daughter, three at the time, had a dentist appointment that morning. I remember how steadying it was to know that I had to appear normal, being the mom now, had to be the grown-up -- the contrast between what I showed on the outside to her vs. the anger, fear, grief, outrage, shock I felt on the inside.

I remember like so many that when the second tower was hit, I knew it was an attack. When the Pentagon was hit, I knew it was an act of war -- my first response to that was "where is our President? Is our President okay?" -- I was terrified at how far this would go in terms of crippling Washington.

Not that the attack on the towers wasn't horrible -- I love NYC so much, it was like having my heart torn out that they tried to ruin that city -- but many have also forgotten that the attack on the Pentagon and on whatever flight 93 would have hit WERE acts of war; they were chosen to be understood as acts of war. They were intended to be understood as acts of war.

Anyone who doesn't understand that is a fool.

I remember also the confusion afterward, listening to the radio on the way to the dentist and hearing a confused local report about some planes not yet being accounted for, and looking up at the sky through my windshield as I drove wondering if the next attack would come from up there above me.

Our dentist, as it turns out, had flown in that morning from Pennsylvania to Rochester, NY and had touched down right before the first plane hit.

Yeah, nothing would ever be the same, and count me as another who will never forget.

No, I'm not tired of being asked to remember; I'm angry at being asked -- implicitly, but repeatedly, and no, I'm not talking about you -- to forget.

I was in school. 11th grade, just weeks into class. My family had just moved there.

Our teacher had stepped out of the room to get coffee or something and never came back. We joked around and worked on our assignment, not knowing anything was amiss. Somehow somebody heard the World Trade Center was on fire, possibly a plane was involved. I suspected it was a small tourist plane or something gone off course. Someone else heard something about the Pentagon being attacked. I and most everyone dismissed that as totally impossible.

The bell rang, we went to our next classroom. The TV was on. There was a huge cloud of smoke and only one of the twin towers was standing. We were the last in the school to become aware that 9/11 was becoming our generation's 12/7. The TV replayed footage of the crashes and confirmed that the Pentagon was also damaged and burning. Rumor abandoned. More planes hijacked, car bombs in DC, you name it. They turned out to be false, but on a day like that there's no way of knowing.

Our school was near Barksdale AFB. President Bush landed there to make a brief statement before leaving. On 9/11, the local media briefly preempted the national coverage for their own coverage of Bush's arrival. As of course they should have, but it was another sign of what an earth-shattering day it was.

In each class, we crowded around the TV or computer looking for information, speculating about the response. Who was responsible? Would there be a war? A draft? Would bombings start becoming as common in the US as in Israel?

I thought the answer to that last question was yes. Since 9/11 and the anthrax, the answer has been no.

As such, the war on terror has been won for now. But our national passions degenerated into partisan squabbling, and even now we don't truly know how safe we are or aren't. I pray we won't ever have another day that finds high school kids crowding around the TV to see a mushroom cloud over some ruined American city. How we remember - and what we do in response - sets the odds that such a thing will happen.

Remember, and think.

When the first tower fell, my immediate thought, which I spoke softly was, "Oh, God. All those firemen."

None of my co-workers nearby heard me. We were crowded into the big meeting room, eyes fixed on the television screen.

When the second tower fell, I felt nothing. I had gone numb, I guess. A woman I still work with stood on the other side of the meeting room, crying softly. I looked at her and wondered why she was the only one.

It seems like that silence lasted for days.

In the middle of the night, I heard a plane fly over my house, the first since that morning. I woke from a deep sleep and I wondered, "What has happened to us?"

I was on a subway headed for work on Wall St. I was running late because I had to make a stop on the way to work or I would have been under the WTC about the time of the crash.

We were all directed to get off the train at 42nd St but there was no announcement of why. We shuffled around and then we were all told to get out of the subway station. Once we were out we found out what happened and could see the smoke in the air. They said there was no transportation for hours and we would not be allowed to go below 23rd St. We were told to go home.

I walked across the 59th St Bridge and then once in Queens I found a bus that was still operating so I could get home. The whole mass of people were walking around dazed and disbelieving that something like this could happen.

Was not able to go to work for 3 weeks because of the air quality danger and even then the whole front of the building where I worked was a substation for the police and fire and EMT and air quality people with the oxygen tanks and ventilators and gas masks and bottles of water and soda for those who needed it and the ambulances kept there in case people were overcome.

Terrible memories of friends killed and the uncertainty of who was still alive or not.

I was walking to work in Washington, DC, commenting to myself about the beautiful morning. Decided I was hungry and popped into Mickey D's for a bite. On a very blurry TV was a news report about a plane crash at the WTC. Got my sandwich and walked the half block to my office where I found about six people in one of the partner's office gathered around our little 6 inch B/W office TV. Everyone who came in stopped in that office.

Second plane hit. More people in the office. Partner decides, "We need a bigger TV" and leaves for the Radio shack two blocks away. Comes back 15 minute later with a color TV unboxed and says he overheard someone say into his cellphone, "and now they've started looting" as he watched Mike walk down the street with the TV.

Phone call from wife about the Pentagon.

Back to the office with the TV to watch the Towers fall. Shock and disbelief. Eventually everyone returns to their own offices. Lots of staring out the window.

Wife doesn't want me on the metro, so I walk from downtown to a friend's house near the National Cathedral, all the while noticing what a beautiful day it was and with the exception of the occasional fighter plane how quiet it is. Notice the same later that afternoon as I drive my friend's convertible home to the Northern Virginia suburbs.

I was driving to my job after college, hell on Earth, I was too thin, weak, miserable, lonely, bitter... A couple weeks before 9/11, I was talking to my friend on the phone bitching about how ridiculous my job was and blurted out after thinking about everything, "We need a wake up call." After 9/11, I felt guilty and thought that this wasn't exactly what I had in mind.
So it figures since I was miserable and all those things that I'd quit my job and join the Marines and go fight for my country. Instead I went to grad school. Looking back, that choice I made makes no sense to me. Now I feel like we sat up griped a little then hit the snooze button. My life is approaching another transition and I've been told I'd start as a captain in the Marines with my degree. I wonder what the future will bring.

Tears are running down my face as I write this and remember. I will never forget where I was on 9/11/2001.

I was awoken by my clock radio and couldn’t believe what I was hearing – that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I turned on the TV and watched in horror as the second plane hit the second building. I then called my husband, who was in California on business and woke him up. He turned on the TV and we stayed on the phone watching the TV together – he in California, me in Florida.

As we were watching, the South Tower collapsed and I said to him, “I think the building just collapsed.” He said it couldn’t have… but it had. We were still on the phone when the North tower collapsed. The TV said that as many as 50,000 people worked in the towers and I was aghast that the collapses might have killed so many. Finally we hung up and he started to figure out how to get home.

All flights were cancelled, and it was spooky not to hear any planes overhead. We are in the flight path of a nearby Navy base – and they weren’t flying either. I have never minded the sounds of planes flying over – they are the sound of freedom.

My husband had already rented a car, luckily, as there were no rentals to be had. He and a couple of colleagues drove cross country to get home.

My mother was in Turkey and I had to hunt to find her itinerary and finally called her at the hotel in Turkey where she was staying that night. She was shook up and wanted to come home early, but since nothing was flying into the US, she ended up flying to England early and staying there a couple of extra days. Once she arrived in the country, I drove to Orlando to pick her up at the airport and we hugged and cried.

One of my sisters was going through a hurricane on the west coast of Florida, alone. She had just moved there from Arizona. My other sister was going through a separation from her husband and stayed out of touch.

I watched TV in horror all day and most of the night. I remember I was trying to find out what was going on and I was in a chat room with a Turkish person and they were convinced that Osama bin Laden had had nothing to do with the planes being hijacked.

I remember the horror of hearing that a plane had flown into the Pentagon, and then that one had crashed in Pennsylvania. How many more would there be? I was in utter disbelief. I remember the unbelievable sorrow of seeing signs and pictures of the missing. “Have you seen?” Heartbreaking. I remember the grimness and the bravery of the rescue workers and the people lining the streets to cheer them on. I remember the horror of watching people choose to jump to their death rather than burn to death. I remember the snow of paper. I remember the grayness of everything and everybody after the ash covered them – no telling a person’s race or the color of their clothing – all was gray. I remember the hoards of people walking across the bridge to get home.

Three weeks later I changed planes in Newark airport and couldn’t believe the missing towers. Every movie made before 9/11 set in New York features the towers and I still have trouble believing they are gone.

Today I was honored to meet three sailors that have just come home from deployment in the Persian Gulf and hug them and thank them for their service.

Let us never forget.

I was at home, getting my stuff together to drive to Florida to support a military exercise the company I was working for at the time was supporting.

My husband called me into the livingroom. "You need to see this," he said. I was annoyed -- I was running late and needed to get going.

The image on the TV screen made no sense. He said a plane had crashed into the WTC. I thought some idiot piloting a private airplane had made a mistake. Then the second plane hit. Then the Pentagon was hit. Then the search was on for the fourth hijacked airliner.

I remember standing where I was when I first saw the screen, in front of the television, for a long time. We have a perfectly good couch to sit on, but I was rooted.

I remember the images of people in business attire clinging to the outside of the towers, balancing on those tiny ledges, hundreds of feet in the air.

I remember the shock in Peter Jennings' voice when he was told the first tower was collapsing.

At some point shortly after that I told my husband I had to leave. And I did. I drove down the highway towards I-20, and a few minutes after I left the house the newscaster on the radio said the second tower had fallen.

I made it past Augusta, driving and sobbing. About the time I reached the Athens exit it was announced that Air Force One had landed at Barksdale. That's where the headquarters of the exercise was located. And finally the lightbulb came on. We weren't having an exercise -- I really wished I had thought of that two hours previously. When I called the office (in Portland, OR) the admin person said they still hadn't decided, and suggested I find a place for a cup of coffee and she'd call me.

I turned around and headed back towards home. Stopped at a Taco Bell, and watched the images on the TV they had in their dining area with a room full of strangers. And finally the admin person called me to say the exercise was called off.

I spent the next several days -- it seemed an eternity -- glued to the television. Hoping for what, I don't know. Illumination, maybe, or an explanation. Wondering if I'd be recalled to active duty and hoping I was, because more than anything at that time I wanted a chance to hurt those bastards the way they hurt us.

Pres. Bush was a surprise to me. I voted for Al Gore, may God forgive me. If Al Gore had been president that day, we'd have been screwed.

I will never get tired of being asked. I will never forget. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive, either, but that's not entirely a failure of my Christianity. When Islamists stop trying to destroy us, when they apologize for what they have done and continue to do, then maybe I'll be able to try to forgive.

The war isn't over. It may never be in my lifetime. We must never forget.

And Pres. Bush handled it better than I would have. As someone else has said, my reaction would have been to turn the entire Middle East into a glass parking lot. And it would have been the wrong answer.

And at the risk of feeding the troll -- Moochy, you obviously have not been paying attention for the past 6 years -- maybe longer. If the U.S. government intended to take from you your Constitutional right to spout idiocy in public, they'd have done it right after 9/11. They haven't. After all, there you are. Still spouting.

I knew about the first plane before I left for work, but I wrote if off to a cowboy in a small, private plane who had messed up a stunt. "An idiot who got what he deserved," I thought. I pitied the people in the building, but I had no concept of the scope.

After I got to work, my wife called to say a second plane had hit the second tower. I immediately knew we were at war. We still are. We will be for generations.

We're just tired of your yanking off about the glorious invasion of Iran to come.

Go hide in a Target if you're so scared of terrorists.

From my post, The 9/11 attack five years later:

Five years ago, I sat in an office in the Midwest (Troy, Ohio), when a colleague came and shouted to us: - "Turn on the radio!" I listened and got terrified. During the lunch break I called my parents and some of my friends in Sweden. Then I tried to contact individuals in New York City, e.g., financial trader, Morris Markovitz.

Best Premises,

Martin Lindeskog - American in spirit.
Gothenburg, Sweden.

I was working in a small investment firm in Wilton, CT but, unlike the hero who was working less than a mile from my office, I did not put on the uniform and report for duty at "Ground Zero." Instead I stood and watched in disbelief pausing to answer the telephone only once.

It was my brother, an analyst for one of our national intelligence agencies. Knowing I frequently visited the World Trade Center on business he paused after hearing my voice. Some moments of quiet later, in a broken voice he said "I'm sorry."

I want to take this opportunity to thank all those who put on the uniform while I continue to stand and watch in disbelief. I want to thank my brother and his wife for their love and sacrifice. I want to thank you Mr. Lileks for writing one of the most moving commentaries I have ever read (on any subject) in response to the horrific events of that day.

May God bless America.

Moochy, an ashamed little man.

"...and first heard of the attacks in a usenet group. I turned on the TV, and told my wife to come look; she has family in NYC.

What remained of my teenage testosterone kicked in, and I wanted to kill every infidel on earth."

Moochy, like me, felt angry after the attack. Also, like me, he acted the coward and didn't join the fight. I've come to accept this, Moochy hasn't.

"... Of course, we didn't suspect then that the main Al Qaeda Headquarters is at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and that we were all being played for suckers.

That's over now. Now we know better."

Truly Moochy is correct here that that is over. Especially since Bush has been impeached and the "Truthers" have all been vindicated and terrorists have stopped trying to attack civilization whether it is involved with Iraq or not.

"War is the health of the State. A dim-witted populace, manipulated by the fear of unseen and unknowable "enemies", is easier to manipulate than a populace that is wide-awake, courageous and lucid."

Yes, those unseen and unknowable "enemies". Just figments of our imagination. 9/11, the Cole, Beirut, WTC bombing I, London attacks, Spain attacks, school girls getting gunned down going to school, it's all hallucinations folks. Bush is the real enemy. The truth is that there is a vast unbelievably diabolical conspiracy brought about by sinister genuises lurking in the shadows. People need to stop being so paranoid about fictional jihadists and realize the real danger.

If only everyone was as wide-awake, courageous and lucid as Moochy.

"That's why he hasn't been "captured". He's a big part of the PR team."

Man, the joke is on me. Moochy is just doing a parody.

"On a practical level, there's little difference between religious fundamentalists, be they Islamic or Christian. They seek the same thing: subjugation of the masses through brute force."

Isn't it surprising when a college-know-it-all hippy doesn't realize that the Bible and Koran are diametrically opposed to each other? Christianity is a bottom up organization (think of Christ's apostles who were artisans) while Islam is a top down organization (Mohommet was a general, the four big Imams were generals). You'd think a know it all like Moochy would see something so obvious.

"The problem is that anybody can claim to be a Christian, and you can't prove they're not. There's no test to take, no knowledge of Christianity need be demonstrated. One simply utters a prayer, and that's about it. Heck, you don't even need to do that...you just say you're a Christian and, like magic, you are one. That's even a selling point of the faith: no test required.

I think as long as Christianity accepts all comers, Christianity as a whole is complict in the evil done by those it shelters.

Ditto for Islam, by the way."

The problem is that anyone can comment on Christianity. Even those like Moochy that only rely on anecdotes and are spoiled overgrown children bitter at authority.

Of course, the Bible states fairly clearly that you know a tree by the fruit it bears.

"He called them "Flagsuckers". I sure miss him."

Moochy is displaying a classic symtom of BDS here: projection. This is supported by his shame from being a coward.

" "Yeah, we see all those people killed by Presbyterian Suicide bombers and Baptist IEDs. Happens all the time, doesn't it?"

Have you forgotten Eric Rudolph?"

Eegads! Moochy makes a good point here. Why haven't we done anything about the Baptists yet? I hear many of them take part in building houses for the less fortunate, counseling for inmates in our federal prisons, picking up garbage at our local communities, preaching to everyone that murder is a sin, etc., etc. All the jihadist do is burn flags and say death to the infidels with the occasional blown up building and sawed off head. When will we stop the real menace?

This has been strickly for the record.

I was in Bosnia as part of the NATO Stabilization Force. My team and I had just completed our primary mission for the day when I received a radio call over my handheld radio (the following conversation is a close paraphrase):

**begin account**

Security Guy (maintaining security on our vehicles and monitoring the SINCGARS net): "Are you near a television?"

Me: "No, I'm not."

SG: "Can you get to one?"

Me: "Not right away. Why?"

SG: "A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center."

Me: "We're on our way back. Get ready to roll."

**end account**

Once I had fulfilled my responsibility as a senior NCO by directing my element's initial response, my reaction was to recall the third verse of our National Anthem:

"And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave."

I experienced fear and rage on September 11, 2001.

I was finally able to get to sleep around 11:30 PM.

Around 2:30 AM I woke up. I had been having a terrible nightmare. I had a dream that terrorists had attacked the World Trade Center in New York...

Had my right foot on the coffe table, tieing my shoe, (sorry honey), don't know why I had turned the TV on, but I did. Could not believe what Fox News was showing me. Second plane hit just moments after I tuned in, like a punch to the gut. I yelled NOOOOOOOOO! Freaked out the dog.
Didn't want to go to work, but I had to. Called the wife's cell phone to let her know what I just saw. She was in police academy at the time. Instructors sent everyone to their respective departments, couldn't get a hold of her for most of the day.
Am I tired of being asked to remember? No, my father told me of the Pearl Harbor announcement. He said he did some quick math in his head and realized it'd be
1945 before he could join up. He did join the Navy.
That was his generation's most important event, this is mine.

I was a few months into working at a firm in LA, and it was Tuesday, our monthly morning departmental meeting day, so my alarm went off at 5.45 PST to the AM news radio. While still somewhat groggy, I listened in bed for a few minutes as the newsreader got interrupted by one of the other news guys to inform that a plane had apparently hit one of the WTC towers. Word was it was a small plane.

I trundled off to the shower thinking, "hmmm, what a strange thing to happen". While dressing, the radio was still on and they were taking the plane in stride with some banter in the news room as the rest of the day's local and national news was peppered with updates about the NYC situation, when suddenly the second guy very excitedly exclaims about the second plane hitting, and that it was a commercial airliner. I said to myself, "we are now at war", in a mixture of disbelief, confusion, grief and anger. The situation in those minutes was one of complete mayhem and confusion - the newspeople couldn't keep up with the feed. The station switched to the big national talking head feed and the locals were off the air. I went to work, listening the entire way on the car radio.

At work, one of the partners brought in a transistor radio to the meeting, which was set to begin at 7.30 a.m. The office was in the Fox Plaza building, which is a/k/a "Nakatomi Plaza" from the Die Hard movie, making it perhaps one of the highest profile buildings in Los Angeles. His radio was on quietly, I was across the room, but at 7.30 the facilities management people came in and advised that the building was being closed for fear of possible attack. Everything was up in the air, and as an earlier poster mentioned, no one knew yet how many planes were involved. The fact we were 1/2 block from the LA "twin towers" in Century City, designed by the same architect as the WTC towers and bearing some resemblance, on a smaller scale was also an issue in the threat assessment. Every tall building in town was closed that morning.

I didn't own a television set, so I decided to go to my brother's neighbor's place in the valley to watch the news, since to that point I'd had no visual image to accompany any of the news. I called my brother and told him to get over there and turn on the tv; something huge was going on. I then called my parents in Ohio. They were (as always) happy to hear from me. They were doing some gardening and cleaning up in the back yard, etc. - the everyday stuff of suburban midwestern America - and I asked them whether they had any idea what was going on: "what do you mean? it's fine weather here... etc." So I told them to turn around and turn on the television. They did, and I could hear the shock as they saw the two burning towers on the living room tv. I left them to the tv and continued over the hill to meet my brother, his fiancee and his neighbor (an old friend of ours from Ohio), where we watched the rest of the day's events unfold with the rest of the world.

I thought a lot about the people in the buildings and in the planes, and on flight 93, for a long time thereafter. One night a week or so after 9/11 when I was feeling particularly torn up and it was clear (and welcome) we were going to make someone pay for what they'd done, I put on an old song called "Meanwhile" by Third Matinee, from an album of the same name, and the music and lyrics acted like a salve to the pain and mental anguish I was feeling about 9/11. The song had been one of my favorites for several years, but before that night I'd never heard and appreciated the lyrics in the same way, and all my bottled up composure broke down in torrents. Ever since, it kills me everytime I hear that song - one of those that I need to be alone to listen to anymore. Credit to Richard Page (ex-Mr. Mister) and Patrick Leonard for the lyrics:

MEANWHILE

And in between
We'll work it out
Wait for another scene
To come about
'Cause we have our love
And that makes us free
It's never over

Meanwhile
The sky will always be
Meanwhile
The birds will always fly
Meanwhile
The earth beneath our feet
We will always be

Take a quiet step
To another life
With a gentle voice to clear my mind
I can feel your soul
And that makes me free
It's never over

Meanwhile
The child will always be
Meanwhile
The love will keep us free
Meanwhile
The peace I hope we'll see
We will always be

We have our love
And that's all we need
It's never over

Meanwhile
The sky will always be
Meanwhile
The dove will always fly
Meanwhile
The earth beneath our feet
We will always be

Meanwhile
The words will always be
Meanwhile
The sun will always shine
Meanwhile
The truth I pray we'll find

I found out within a few days that the mother of a colleague whose office had been next door to mine at my previous employer in Chicago had been in the first plane. I think about her and her sister, and how it must feel to have lost your mom at all, much less in such a horrible way, and then I think about how their mom must have felt in the plane, when the passengers realized what was going to happen. It's not easy, and would be much more convenient to forget it all.

Every year, I thumb through the Newsweek and Time magazines I've kept from the aftermath of 9/11 and see the people on the upper floors, and the "missing" posters, and all of it, and it brings me back to those early, raw emotions. We are at war, and it is beyond aggravating to see how assiduously our media and many of our politicians work to convince us that we can wish it away or just scrape it off the bumpers of our cars.

Doesn't anyone in Congress remember that we had declared on us, and not the other way around?

On a practical level, there's little difference between religious fundamentalists, be they Islamic or Christian. They seek the same thing: subjugation of the masses through brute force.

You're a moron.

I can draw out examples-- such as the thousands of Christians who go into countries where they cannot even preach to those they help, but go help anyways-- or point out the huge numbers killed by atheist governments, but it won't work.

You are either a troll or an idiot who will not be swayed by mere reality.

I was riding out a typhoon in Okinawa Japan. The wind and rain were preventing me from getting to sleep, so I had the tube on. I was just about to doze off when the news broke in with initial report of a small plane hitting one of the towers. Of course that caught my interest and I focused on the report.

It was many, many hours after the second tower fell before I finally made it to sleep and the sleep was not good - as you might imagine. I can't quite describe how I felt that day, but I pray I never feel it again. The shock, sorrow and sadness of it all was overwhelming. Several thousand miles away from NYC, it seemed I was in as much shock as those who were walking away from the towers dazed and confused by it all.

There are few things that have happened in my life where I would so readily be able to recall "where were you." This one I'll never forget.

It was a regular Tuesday, and I had gotten up early to ride my exercise bike. I usually watched the news, probably Headline News, but this was about an hour before the attacks, so I can't even remember what was being covered. I think shark attacks in Florida were the national preoccupation du jour.

Then I got myself put together and went off to work. As I was driving in, the Boston radio station morning DJ's were yammering away, and toward the end of the broadcast, as I was pulling onto route 225 heading toward Lexington, they made an offhand reference to a plane hitting the WTC, and were even joking about being at risk at the top of the Prudential building. They, like myself, probably were imagining a light plane getting into an accident. Their show ended and I rode the rest of the way into work listening to classic rock.

When I got to work, a few of my more excitable coworkers were going on about something, and it turned out what I'd assumed was a minor footnote to the day was a lot more serious than I could possibly have imagined. I don't recall if I was even aware of the second strike. I went to my cube and tried to hit the news sites, but they were tied in knots. I did manage to get thru to my folks in PA. on the phone, and we talked for a while, and I managed to get thru to my brother thru IRC. (He and his fiancee lived in a beautiful lake house in Michigan but made a point of not having any tv, so I was the one who broke the news to him.)

My co-workers and I spent the next couple hours mulling things over. I had a little panic when I heard about the plane coming down in PA, but I got thru to the folks again and we talked some more. By that time the Pentagon had been hit as well, and the situation was in flux. It sounds very self centered, I suppose, but to be hearing about terrible things happening in NYC and Washington DC, and then to hear about another plane going down in my home state, well my irrational mind likes to play with me.

Eventually, the boss told us all to go home. A few of us stuck around for a while, mainly because Boston traffic being what it was we wanted to let any big rush's pass. I had an eye doctor's appointment that day, that I cancelled. (A week later, I rescheduled, and asked the doctor if he'd lost anyone in NYC. He hadn't, but the fact I was asking such a question is indicative of the times. I think by then the numbers of those lost were still very exaggerated.)

Then I drove home, and it was probably the most memorable part of the day. Glorious sunshine. The route I traveled back to my apartment was thru several small suburbs of Boston, all very Rockwell-esque. The radio station I had my car constantly tuned to was playing nothing but music, back to back songs, probably using some kind of automatic system. 3/4 of the way thru the trip, the music tape ran out (The last song was David Bowie's "Sufferagette City", an odd detail that will be with me forever) then just silence, for the rest of the drive. I got home and turned on the news, and watched. I talked to my folks again, and spent the rest of the day meditating on what was happening. The following day, I spent creating artwork, I made a piece as a gift for my brother's upcoming wedding.

As for how I felt overall, I was angry, but it was a cold anger. I had suffered no personal loss, but my country and what it stood for had suffered an atrocity.

My desire then, as it is now, was for the U.S. to go forth and do what is necessary to end this threat. Clinically, without rancor and without remorse.

I think we have been doing what's necessary, all the mistakes and missteps, all the wrangling and arguing aside, and will continue to do so.

Thanks for the opportunity to write this down.

God Bless America.

A beautiful blue-sky day! Photocopying at Kinko's when a female employee starts telling me that it is the start of WW III. I go over to the TV up in the corner of the store and watch in disbelief. My two girls, ages 8 & 9, are at school... 4 blocks away from where I am. I have to go hug them and take them home. The school tells me it's better to not disrupt 'normal' for the kids & that they'll be told by their teachers what they need to know in a calm manner. I am anything but calm. I start to pray. I call my husband. I'm jarred all day
watching the horror unfold, crying, praying. That afternoon, we take our girls to a beach in Mound. They swim and laugh and know no trouble. How could I survive if I didn't know of a place where there are no more tears, no more death, no more darkness....How can I reconcile this paradox of a world without knowing the One who bore the sins of all humanity, my sins included...

... as I packed my uniforms to fly to a court-martial in Japan the next morning. I was watching Diane Sawyer host Good Morning America on the Armed Forces Korea Network.

I really thought it had been an accident until the second plane hit. Needless to say, no flights the next day. We all went on alert. I spent the next few hours calling other officers on the roster.

I got up nice and early, snagged a magazine, and got on the bus from the rural area where I was staying with my in-laws to my work. Several stops in, a guy gets on the bus, relates that he'd caught about thirty seconds' worth of news before he had to get on the bus, and tells us there's a fire at the Pentagon.

Interesting. I join the conversation when talk turns to chemical weapons and explain that the Pentagon is a strategic planning building and it would be really stupid, strategically, to put chemical weapons storage beneath the gathering place of your strategic planners, because that would make it a doubly attractive target. Note that a fire is all we knew about at the time.

The bus driver was so interested that he missed his turn and ended up doing a three-point turn across all four lanes of traffic.

Then I change busses and there is a lady who has more of the story, and tells us that probably 70,000 people died in the WTC (max capacity, I'm assuming.) I've never felt so strong an urge to punch someone— it's not what she said so much as the way she said it, as though it were their just desserts. I went to work and spent the better part of an hour collecting myself in the warehouse, opening boxes and sorting goods.

The rest of the day was strange. They closed the mall across the way but we stayed open, to the great relief of many people from outlying areas who had driven a long ways to get some shopping done. We'd get dribs and drabs of information, which was immensely frustrating to me as the job I'd had immediately prior had been in a newsroom, so I felt cut off. And some of my coworkers were still in varying states of denial, such as "But there were kids on board! They couldn't kill kids!"

At one point I mentioned to a coworker that nobody but the group actually responsible would lay claim to this one (remember when terror groups would lay claim to other groups' work, and we'd have to figure out which one was telling the truth?) and maybe even they wouldn't, because the heat was going to be intense. "We're going to war with somebody," I said, and she looked at me blankly. Even after I explained my reasoning, she just didn't understand.

By the time I got home, they had stopped showing most of the footage, so I've never seen the really disturbing stuff. As it was, I had to shoo my shell-shocked mother-in-law out of the room so I could watch the news, but she kept coming back in. I finally switched it to a Spanish-language station to spare her the trauma, so my primary memory of the 9-11 coverage is of straining to understand from what traces of the language were still in my head, and of noting the differences in news presentation. For example, they gave stats on the construction of the building, including how many windows there were.

The paper's headline, the next day, was "UNTHINKABLE." It annoyed me. Somebody thought it. My favorite headline was and remains that of the San Francisco Chronicle: "BASTARDS!"

An out-of-state friend is amazed at how I manage (however UN-luckily) to be "in the thick of it" when disasters strike!

(As an aside, I was on the 19th floor of a 22-story high-rise in downtown San Francisco when the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake hit! Another story entirely...)

Yes, like AMW (who posted earlier) I was on a plane on *the* 9/11. I was supposed to be flying from San Jose, CA to Orlando, FL for a business meeting. A colleague, working on the same project, was leaving at the same time from Oakland Airport and we were to rendezvous upon arrival...

Ironically, I recall having a "lively discussion" with my (at the time) S/O who took exception to the fact that I expected him to ferry me to the airport *early* that morning (he felt that - since it was a business trip - my company should pay for cab fare).

In the end I won with the "If you really loved me, you'd take me" argument.

So he grudgingly dropped me off at the airport that morning. I don't even think he kissed me goodbye (that's how "lively" our "discussion" was!)

I checked in and learned that the flight was running late. "#$%^! I guess I'll just deal with it."

I checked in and hung out at the airport; ate a grossly overpriced/grossly under-flavored breakfast; and eventually made my way to the gate.

They boarded us, and closed the door - along with the requisite admonitions to turn off our cell phones in preparation for departure...

We sat at the gate for - I don't even remember how long (but it was a LOOOOOONG time!). Periodically, the pilot would get on the PA system to give us utterly uninformative and vague excuses for why the plane was being held at the gate.

Things were starting to get stuffy and hot in the plane (Sept is typically pretty warm out here) and people were getting extremely impatient. Eventually they were forced to open the door to get some air circulating thru the plane. Once the door was opened, it seemed everyone got on their cell-phones (mostly business travelers, calling ahead to notify their colleagues of delays).

I turned my phone on and saw that there were TWO messages ("Oh, hell! Who wants me now?!!"). I then began to hear smatterings of one-way conversations throughout the plane: "Twin towers..." "New York City..." "Airplanes crashed..." "Terrorists..." "War..."

"What the...?!!!" I thought.

I retrieved my messages. Both were frantic calls from S/O - desperately pleading with hope that my flight hadn't taken off!

We still hadn't received any real 'concrete' updates from the cockpit, but at that point I wanted OFF that plane at ANY cost! I was actually considering inciting a riot or being SOOO abusive and obnoxious that they would kick me off the plane - even in handcuffs! (Jail seemed a reasonable alternative - to be perfectly honest! Hell, S/O will POST bail, if need be!!!)

Well, Long Story Short: We were ultimately officially 'grounded' and told to deplane and retrieve our luggage at the baggage carousels.

Getting off the plane and heading back to Baggage Claim was a totally surreal experience. The entire airport atmosphere was 'hushed' in a way I can't even begin to describe.

I missed all of the 'live' News Reports b/c I was trapped on that stuffy plane while it was all happening...

Needless to say, S/O had NO problem with picking me up at the airport later that morning. He had tears in his eyes as he hugged and kissed me.

Once I got home... S/O went back to work. I didn't. I turned on the TV, instead - to see what I had missed.

This was slated as a 'Travel Day' for me, so I didn't feel any guilt about not accomplishing any WORK that day. I was too 'tripped out' to be able to concentrate.

I called my boss in Atlanta to let him know "Don't worry, I'm okay. But I'm taking today off."

He was all "Huh?"

Have you turned on the news today?

"No."

"Turn it on. I'm taking today OFF!"

EPILOGUE:

My Oakland colleague: His plane had made it out onto the runway when the "grounding" order hit. They were stuck out there for >2 hours before they turned back to the gate and let them off, though...

My S/O: He's now my husband. And where business trips are concerned - there is no longer ANY argument about about taking one or the other to the airport. (AND making sure that we always kiss goodbye!)

My wife, Nancy, woke me with a phone call that morning. I was in Washington, at law school; she was in New York, in our apartment facing downtown. "Turn on the TV," she said, "a plane just hit the World Trade Center." I turned it on and we marvelled at the damage. The anchor was reporting that a small plane--perhaps one of those that trail advertisements down the Hudson--had plowed into the tower, but we couldn't fathom the damage. Then, as I watched live on television and Nancy watched out our bedroom window, the second plane struck. I remember shouting, "Oh my God!" and meaning it, perhaps for the first time in my life, as a prayer.

I knew immediately that everyone above where the plane had struck was dead. I did a quick calculation and guessed the number at ten thousand.

Nancy was crying. "We're at war," I told her, "and this is just the beginning. Stay out of the subways today. Stay home." But she wouldn't listen. A supervisor at a foster care agency, her first thought was for the kids. "ACS [the Administration for Children's Services] is going to be swamped. If there were ten thousand people in those buildings, are thousands of kids who just became orphans. I've got to go in." So, over my protests, she hung up the phone and began a four hour trek to work--all on foot.

I stayed glued to the television. From my apartment in Southwest Washington, I heard the explosion as the Pentagon was hit and saw the plume of black smoke rise over the Potomac. My 80-year-old landlord, confined to a wheelchair by childhood polio, was in a state of panic. As the TV reported congressmen running from the Capitol and insisted they had confirmed reports of a car bomb going off at the State Department, he pleaded with me to drive him out of the city. But the federal government had closed all of its offices at the same time the emergency responders had closed all of the Potomac bridges. Hundreds of thousands of commuters, unable to get to their homes in Virginia, filled the D.C. streets.

That evening, I reported to my graveyard shift job as a security guard in the building over MetroCenter--a few blocks from the White House. When I arrived for my shift, my supervisor introduced me to the three secret service agents who would be watching the building with me that evening. In the early hours of the next morning, I chatted with one of them as we stood on the roof and watched the fires still burning across the river in Arlington--the famous service professionalism cracking just a bit when he admitted that he felt that today had been a day that we wouldn't forget.

The next morning I stood in line for four hours at the Washington Greyhound station for a bus to New York. Bus stations are generally raucous places, and D.C.'s more than most, but that day it was nearly silent. Hundreds of people--many wondering whether family members had survived--waited in the long queues without complaint. At first, no buses were running because the Hudson crossings were still closed to vehicle traffic. Then someone at Greyhound made the right decision and ordered the drivers to discharge passengers at the Jersey side of the GWB.

When the bus topped the last hill on the Jersey turnpike revealing the pall of smoke that hung over lower Manhattan, I found myself weeping. Several passengers--men and women--were sobbing uncontrollably, but no-one spoke for the remainder of the ride.

I walked the bridge and the 6 miles or so downtown to my apartment. Already, the bus stops and lamp poles of the City were covered with "Missing" posters. I will never forget the pathos wrapped up in those scraps of paper--trying desperately to keep alive the hope that, somehow, miraculously, someone would return from the rubble.

The rest of the week blurs, but I remember clearly how proud I was of New York--of the thousands of people who, knowing full well that the southern tip of the island was potentially fatally dangerous, nonetheless donned work boots and gloves and tromped to 14th street to wait for hours for a chance to help with the rescue effots, or the blocks-long line to give blood, or the people who, lacking anything else to do, simply lined the Westside Highway and cheered as the exhausted police and firemen drove by. Rudy was magnificent, and he was everywhere. I wish him well with his presidential campaign, but even if he wins, it will be only a coda to the days after 9-11.

It was my first day back at work, at a large law firm in Washington, DC. I had taken a four-day weekend, as my mother re-married in Pennsylvania that Saturday, and I spent Monday messing around the museums with my sister and brother-in-law, who had accompanied me back to my home in northern Virginia. They were scheduled to fly out of the Baltimore-Washington airport around midday on Tuesday, but were not awake when I left for work.

Sometime around 9:00 or so, I went to chat with a friend at the office, and he told me a plane had hit the World Trade Center. "Was it an accident?" I asked, remembering some vague story of a plane hitting the Empire State Building long ago. No, he said, there were actually two planes that had hit. Well, that ruled out the accident concept. And later on, he came by my office and said he was going up to the roof of the building to see the smoke from the Pentagon...a plane had struck there, too.

I called home, because obviously air travel wasn't in the cards that day, but they had already gone to the airport. I got out a portable radio that I kept in the office in order to listen to sports programs, and heard the reports of the buildings collapsing. Eventually my sister called from the airport, asking what was going on, and I told her what I knew, such as it was. And after waiting awhile for traffic to thin out, it was off to the airport to fetch them so they could spend a few more days with me before finally heading back to Missouri. And we watched TV, and tried to make sense of everything.

No, I'll never tire of remembering this.

Well Ma'am, it's been decided over here that you are an "AIRHEAD". Some drivel about your daughter's dress for early school??? Are you insane? This site is about serious stuff that people remember viz-a-viz 9-11. You're not remembering, you're hallucinating my dear. Try to stop that.

OK, maybe I'm wrong and you are Madonna in disguise? Or maybe 'Jay-Lo' (whoever the hell that is), or some other wannabee celeb, like the one who recently shaved her head? Who can remember all those airheads, male and female, who drown the general public in their pig shit. I hope you never find those socks.

In short, fuck you, and all your relatives. G]

My alarm clock is the bedroom TV turning on at 6:00 am (9:00 am eastern) to the local news. On that morning I woke up to a woman's voice saying "don't use any water unless you have to".

I didn't have my glasses on and at first thought that there was a local disaster. It took me a few moments to figure out what the heck was going on.

I was about to write "took me a few moments to understand what the heck was going on", but I still don't "understand" it, not really.

I turned over to CNN and spent the next 90 minutes going between the bedroom TV, the living room TV and my usual morning activities of showering, getting dressed, etc. etc. My husband had to pretty well push me out the door to get to work that morning.

I didn't have an iPod back then so was unable to listen to the news on my morning commute. My husband (who was off work that day) phoned me about every 5-10 minutes to give me an update and I would relay the information to other people on the train. The car went completely silent when I passed on the news about the pentagon.

I later marveled not only on the events of that day, but also on that weird intimacy I developed with my fellow travelers. I usually feel very uncomfortable talking to strangers, but I didn't think twice that day about sharing any information that I could with them.

Time has passed James, but your video made me cry today just like it did the first time you posted it.

Thank you for your words and to all your other readers for theirs.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Let Me Rant!

...on 9/11 - in Sydney, to be exact, where I had been for about 5 months for work. I went to bed just before the attacks occurred - my Sept 11 was over - and got a call from a colleague in NY about 6 am the next day. I couldn't make sense of what he was telling me: terrorists flying planes into the WTC and the Pentagon, both towers down... I went into the living room and turned on the tv and there it was - endless replays of the planes hitting the tower and the towers collapsing.

I have had a very strong connection with the WTC nearly all my life. I was born in NYC. My father, an electrical contractor, worked on the WTC when I was a kid, and I went with him to a pre-opening party for all the workers held on the observation floor. I worked in the south tower for a short time. Later I commuted daily through the WTC on the PATH train from Hoboken to lower Manhattan. To see those towers falling, to know the reason why they were falling...it hit me in a way that few other things could that we were at war. I felt very far from home at that moment.

Now I live in Hong Kong. I'm still a long way from home, but I never forget where I'm from, and what happened there on 9/11/01.

I was in my apartment with the radio and TV off, preparing to go to a dentist appointment before work. I had heard nothing, since there's a large hill between the Pentagon and my apartment complex, and I was on my way out the door when my friend called. I let the answering machine pick up, and I heard him say that the Pentagon and World Trade Center had been attacked. I shut the door, turned on the TV and was shocked at what I saw. One of the most frightening things I heard was on the phone. When I picked up the receiver to call my friend back, I heard dead silence. No dial tone, no static, no "all circuits are busy". Just nothing. I hung up and tried my cell phone, and got an "unable to connect" display. At that point I knew I had to find some way of letting my relatives know I was okay. After about a dozen attempts, I was able to get a dial tone, and called my sister's number, leaving a message on her machine. The second scariest thing I heard was the radio announcing the inbound road highway and road closings, all stating "all inbound lanes closed at Glebe Road." I live on Glebe Road, and I decided to stay at home, out of the way of any emergency vehicles. My dentist had called in the meantime, telling me they had cancelled all appointments for the day. That was the one good thing I heard that day...

The alarm went off at 0515 - Hawai'i time - & Rick Hamada wasn't the least bit his jovial self as he described what was happening on whatever feed he was watching. It took a few seconds to solidify in my brain, but then the house was up & every tv was turned to FoxNewsChannel. A short while later, the towers collapsed.

We were stationed with VP-47 aboard Marine Corps Base Hawai'i, Kaneohe Bay, Hawai'i. Hubby went to work, Lovely Daughter went to school but I picked her up when they announced the base had been secured, took over 3 hours to get back on base because they searched every vehicle. Commissary & Exchange were secured, well-armed Marines patrolled every public area.

Stunned. Shocked. Sickened. Got lots of calls & IM's from concerned friends & family all over the States. I was on the computer for 2 days straight, then had to stop & get some perspective. My most vivid picture is Donald Rumsfeld assisting on the lawn of the Pentagon, in his suit.

I will not forget, even though our 'esteemed' politicians have, & as a result my disgust for them has reached the same level as that of the murderers that day.

"Doesn't anyone in Congress remember that we had declared on us, and not the other way around?"

Yes, but it was Osama bin Laden who declared war on us, not Saddam Hussein.

Saddam Hussein attacked American military personnel and American civilians, repeatedly, all throughout the 1990's.
Generally, when a country that has been defeated and that signs a peace treaty with the country that defeated it, then attacks the country that defeated it and attempts to subvert all of the provisions of the peace treaty, that is considered... War.

My husband was at home, after working until very late in the night. For a television set that was to be installed in the Pentagon that week. We lived less than a mile away from the Pentagon.

He turned on the news, and saw the second plane hit the tower. He phoned me.

We turned on the television in the conference room. I went to my desk to search the internet for anyone taking credit, when my phone rang again.

My husband said, "I think it's happening here now. I heard a plane come in very low overhead, and the whole building shook from an explosion somewhere nearby." I heard the sounds of alot of sirens, and he said, "Come home now, please - 6 fire engines have gone by in the last 2 minutes. OH GOD - it's on the news. It's the Pentagon."

Then someone in my office yelled, "My Dad works at the Pentagon!!!"

I found out later that someone that until recently had been my next door neighbor was on that plane. I also found out that the pilot was a neighbor of my sister in Littleton, Co.

It took 6 hours to get home to Arlington that day. We had to shut the windows to keep the smoke out.

There were countless people walking around with kids in strollers in that gorgeous weather, casting very, very threatening looks at the sky. I imagine they just needed to get away from the television.

However, the moment I'll remember most was two days later when I was walking to catch the bus (to the pentagon metro stop)to go to work. There was a woman standing at a school bus stop in full military combat fatigues, comforting her 7-8 year old daughter who was looking fearfully at the sky.

She was telling her daughter that mommy would protect her. I would have given my right arm for a camera.

I sobbed all way to work. All the way past the smoking building.

I was working at home in the northern Virginia suburbs that morning. I'd gone out to get a cup of coffee at Starbucks, and when I returned to my car, I heard on the radio that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. My immediate thought was that the report was a fictional, like "The War of the Worlds."

I called my husband, who works downtown,and urged him not to take the Metro home. Better to walk to Virginia if need be.

I watched TV the rest of the morning. At noon, in need of company, I went to the grocery store. I saw many people of World War II vintage. They looked haunted. Later that day my husband spoke with his parents, who are in their 80s. They said that they had hoped never again to experience something like Pearl Harbor.

I went to church, and I prayed for all those souls, that God would receive them and comfort their families.

We hung our flag the same day. The act felt defiant. Flags sprouted everywhere, more than the Fourth of July.

Flight 93--a feral grin indeed

My hairdresser lives in Arlington, not far from the Pentagon. She arrived home that day to find the far end of her street filled with military vehicles and soldiers with guns--an unnerving sight.

A day later, the New York Times arrived with a photograph on the front page, above the fold, of people leaping from one of the towers. I cried. My children, then 6 and 3, asked me why I was crying. I don't remember how I explained that one.

A week later, I sat at the soccer field in the late afternoon watching my son's practice. An azure sky. Quiet. No contrails. Odd.

For weeks afterward I scanned the Times' tribute to the dead--pages filled with thumbnail-sized photographs and bios. So many. So sad. I couldn't not look. It was a ritual.

My husband and I agree, when 9/11 comes around, we wish for it not to be an azure-sky day. Yesterday it wasn't. Today it is. Cool, dry, blue-sky September days are God's gift after our hot and humid summers here, but they are a haunting one now.

What really should be asked is why people like Lileks thought they could use this tragedy as an excuse for an illegal and unjustified war on the people of Iraq. Considering the amount of bile spilled on James' private blog in favor of the war and in attacking its opponents, it is not unreasonable to expect folks like him to be held on account regarding this matter.

In the past Lileks has used 9/11 to justify the Iraq war and occupation and to argue in favor of Bush's policies on torture and prisoner abuse (he event went so far as to insinuate that people who object to torture should be subject to summary execution). He has also expressed admiration for the people running Little Green Footballs, a vicious, anti-Arab website. Given that (and more), it becomes clear why Lileks and his ilk feel the war is justified. So a better question is why anyone still listens to them. That might explain why the STRIB has assigned Lileks to blogging on urgent matters like weather reports and elephant bans.

-timmy "Avatar" ramone

I was driving to work with my girlfriend, listening to NPR when we heard that a small plane had hit the WTC. I looked at her and said "someone F-ed up".

As I walked into the office and sat at my desk. The Janitor came over and said you better see this and we ran to the tv in the conference room.

My life will never be the same.

We must never stop fighting until radical Islam is wiped from the Earth.

James,

Wonderful 911 film.

Would you please share the music you used for the bed?

Thanks for the memories.

What REALLY should be asked is why the trolls here either make new accounts or don't bother to even register.

What should be asked is how you think more baseless accusations of "illegal war" means anything.

What should be asked is, if both our entire government and even the United Nations can't find a way to call it illegal, how can you?

The question is, when you slime others with slander and false accusations, how can you bear to call someone else full of bile?

The question is, when you have to troll a page for memories of 9/11 to get your jollies, how do you sleep at night?

I was working on the 19th floor in the tallest building in Omaha. The large windows gave clear viewing of the civilian airport to the northeast and, a little farther away, the comings and goings at Offut Airforce Base.

I was listening to the local morning guys on FM radio and they were talking about the "small plane" that had hit one of the towers. They were doing their show but had turned on CNN in the studio and giving some running commentary.

What I will never forget is the shocked "Whoaaaaaaa!!!!" that everyone in that studio exclaimed as they watched the 2nd plane hit live. It was a shocked, stunned sound. Their tone told me all I needed to know.

I immediately went to a news station and listened all day.

Now the Eppley airport was less than 5 miles away, so you could watch planes take off and land all day long. After the grounding had taken effect, it was very odd to look out those windows for more than two minutes and seeing nothing. But turning to the south was different odd. There was a lot more activity from, what my wife calls, the "pointy planes".

I did not get a lot of work done. I can admit that now since I no longer work there. I spent the day listening to the radio at my desk, and, when I needed a break, standing at the eastern windows. Around mid-afternoon, I announced to one half of the 19th floor, "There's the President".

There were two fighter jets leading the way, and behind them was the first airplane I had seen in hours resembling a passenger plane. I wondered then what he was thinking. I wanted to tell him what I thought we should do, but I also remember thinking I was glad that burden was not on me.

Through his words and actions, I think I have a good idea of what he was thinking as I watched Air Force 1 land. And I don't think it had anything to do with "My Pet Goat".

Those who want us to forget do not want us to succeed.

He called them "Flagsuckers". I sure miss him.

"Moochy", please feel free to join him at any time. Ideally, post-haste. And, do let "Avatar" tag along, if you don't mind.

...why people like Lileks thought they could use this tragedy as an excuse ...

This 'tragedy'? Are you afraid to call it what it was? It was an ATTACK by people who hate us - all of us, even progressive, concerned geniuses like you, TIMMY. Get a clue, please.

I love that poem, EB. Can you please tell me where you got it from? Did you write it? I've looked everywhere to find the source!! Please help!
e-mail s****w a d e****903**** at* y a h o o * dot * c o m

(Remove asterisks and spaces, obviously) I don't usually post my e-mail publicly, but this is really important to me.
Thank you!!!

I woke up that morning at 8:55. My roommate had already left for her early class. The day seemed ordinary. I opened the door of my dorm room to head to the restroom and saw that my Resident Assistant, who lived in the dorm across the hall, had her door open. I saw her standing in the middle of her dorm room, crying quietly, facing the TV. Curiousity got me - "Chantelle, what's wrong? Is everything ok?" She looked at me and said, "Come look." I walked into her room and saw the tower, and the thick black smoke billowing out of it. "A plane hit it. It's so sad....all those people....." I stood there and watched with her for just a moment. At 9:00am, I walked back across the hall to my room, leaving my door open. I did the normal things...turned on my laptop, curling iron, hit the power on the TV, looked through my closet for something to wear.... it was then that I heard the news reporter yell, followed by a loud gasp by Chantelle across the hall. I looked up at her and then instantly to the TV and saw the cameras rolling on the second tower. And I stared.

'Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Both of them? How can that be? BOTH of them? Were there PEOPLE in those planes? Were they commercial? How could this possibly be an accident? Was it? Oh my God, it wasn't. It was not an accident, this was too coincidental to be an accident, this was NO accident. This was terrorism, this was an act of evil, this was a deliberate act of hate upon our country. Oh my God, how could this HAPPEN?'

It was the longest moment ever. I pulled my glance away from the TV and went back to Chantelle's room and we each put an arm around the others waist. And we stood there and cried.

It was a profound moment. And as it's said all the time...I'll enver forget it, or where I was, or how it happened.

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Paul , I was just coming down for coffee in a motel in Midland Texas when the TV showed the second plane going into the WTC. It was shorting after that I got into my sail boat and sailed to New Zealand.