Remembering
Sep. 11th, 2004 10:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
msmemory_archiveMy parents' generation had Kennedy's assassination as a defining moment. "Where were you?" was a common question, to tie folks together in sharing how they learned of it. (I remember I was very small indeed, and the milkman brought some news to Mother that upset her terribly; she dropped to the chair in the kitchen and hid her face in her apron. Only later did I figure out from the timing what it must have been.)
Where was I three years ago?
I was driving to work, had just decided to cut across Smith St. to go around a knot of traffic at Trapelo and 128.
The announcer came on the radio, and said that someone had just flown a plane into the World Trade Center. "What a nut!" I thought, figuring it was somebody in a private two-seater who thought he would give his girl a fright and miscalculated. Then I found out the truth.
When I got to work, we did nothing all morning but try to catch news. Radio, of course, since the Internet was congested to the point of unusable. Then someone remembered there was a little b&w television in the lab, used by the machinists to illicitly track the ballgames. That got moved into the kitchen, where at least most of us could keep checking in.
I remember talking with KG. He was being horrified by the jumpers. My view was, I didn't know whether I could choose between staying and burning to death, or jumping. At least if one jumped, there was a chance of being unconscious at the time of death. At the time, it didn't occur to us that the towers would come down, annulling the choice.
After work, I did the only thing I could: I hung out our flag. Wasn't eligible to give blood (previous donation was too recent). Prayed, of course, and cried. Watched the news coverage over and over, as if I could numb myself. Thought perhaps we'd get good news eventually, as we did when some of the trapped were found in the Murrah building. Cried some more.
Where was I three years ago?
I was driving to work, had just decided to cut across Smith St. to go around a knot of traffic at Trapelo and 128.
The announcer came on the radio, and said that someone had just flown a plane into the World Trade Center. "What a nut!" I thought, figuring it was somebody in a private two-seater who thought he would give his girl a fright and miscalculated. Then I found out the truth.
When I got to work, we did nothing all morning but try to catch news. Radio, of course, since the Internet was congested to the point of unusable. Then someone remembered there was a little b&w television in the lab, used by the machinists to illicitly track the ballgames. That got moved into the kitchen, where at least most of us could keep checking in.
I remember talking with KG. He was being horrified by the jumpers. My view was, I didn't know whether I could choose between staying and burning to death, or jumping. At least if one jumped, there was a chance of being unconscious at the time of death. At the time, it didn't occur to us that the towers would come down, annulling the choice.
After work, I did the only thing I could: I hung out our flag. Wasn't eligible to give blood (previous donation was too recent). Prayed, of course, and cried. Watched the news coverage over and over, as if I could numb myself. Thought perhaps we'd get good news eventually, as we did when some of the trapped were found in the Murrah building. Cried some more.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-12 05:19 pm (UTC)We didn't get much work done that day, and around 2:30 or 3 I said "screw it" and just went home.