I had just come back from class and was grading assignments. I even remember that I was in the process of exchanging students' floppy discs in the disc drive when my office phone rang. My then-husband had called to see how I was doing. My first thought was that it was just a "thinking of you" call and I told him that it was sweet of him to call. From my reaction, he realized that I hadn't yet heard the news that a plane had hit one of the Twin Towers. He had been watching the TV as we talked, and the second tower was hit as he was telling me about the first one. It was then that we realized that the first "accident" was no accident at all, but rather was an act of terrorism. By the time the third plane came down, I remember being out in the college's hallway, rubbing my then-very-large belly, and wondering whether we would all live long enough for our baby to be born. (We live within nuclear fallout range of several large cities -- we're about an hour's drive from Philly and Baltimore, and two to two-and-a-half hours' drive to Washington, D.C. and New York City.)
I was suddenly able to relate to my parents' experiences of hearing about Pearl Harbor, or even of hearing about JFK's assassination. I knew even then that I would remember 9/11/01 to my dying day, and would remember the circumstances under which I had heard the news. (The closest I had come heretofore had been when I had heard about the Challenger shuttle explosion.)
I was very fortunate in that I didn't lose anyone who was near and dear to me, but my heart went out then, and continues to go out now, to all those who did.
In Remembrance,
Lynn
