I was out in the morning, but came home with my toddler once it became clear that something horrible was happening. I didn't have the TV on -- couldn't face it -- but I was on these boards all day. We opened up the IRC channel to everyone, too. FOLCs from around the world were checking in, worrying about the ones who hadn't been heard from. Sherry was from New York, and had worked in the Twin Towers, I think, but she wasn't there that day. Turns out she was okay.
I couldn't decide if I was glad that my kids were too little to understand what was happening, or sorry that they'd never know a world in which this sort of evil wasn't possible.
I was watching some documentaries today; my 12-year-old daughter sat with me for a while. They'd talked about it at school, she said. My 14-year-old son didn't want me to watch it, because it made me sad. Sorry, but sometimes, kid, sadness happens and you have to deal with it. He's protective of me that way. This morning at church they showed a video which had me crying, and he gave me the biggest hug, trying to make it all better for me.
I am proud of my husband, though -- he worked in telecommunications at the time, and was part of the team re-engineering the phone circuits to restore service to New York. The Verizon building was damaged when WTC 7 came down, and Sprint had major trunk lines destroyed when the towers fell. He worked night and day for two weeks, putting a plan together. He wasn't the only one involved, and he stayed here in Raleigh, but he'd tell me about being in a conference call and being the one to come up with solutions. He's never worked harder -- and had zero errors in his work. He's one of the many unsung heroes of that day.
PJ
