It's Been Seven Years

It's the date of our generation. Nine eleven. 9-11. September 11. 911. I wasn't born yet when Kennedy was shot, but I remember my Mom talking about where she was when she heard the news. I wasn't around when Martin Luther King, Jr. was murdered either.

I understood the gravity of those events, in the only way someone who wasn't there can. I remember where I was when I heard that Elvis died. I know that sounds trivial compared to 9-11, but for some reason, I remember that. I was very young, but it was a big deal to me. I liked his music, but my Mom really liked it, so I knew that it meant more to her. I don't remember the date though.

I was working at a newspaper Sept. 11, 2001. I got up to get ready for work just like every other day, and was in the shower when I heard a shout from outside the door.

"A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center in New York! It's on TV!"

I hurried to finish my shower. By the time I got downstairs, we stared at the screen and watched as the second plane hit. I was still confused, I just didn't understand what the hell was going on. It took a moment for me to comprehend that this was NOT an accident. This was intentional, and I was in shock. My head was spinning with questions, and I was weak.

I remember asking out loud, "Am I supposed to go to work, I mean, what are we supposed to do?"

I did go to work. We worked, but it was so surreal, and it felt stupid to call people and do interviews for stories about local news. I think most of the day was spent checking the AP wire, and speculating about what was going on. The newsroom was a strange place to be that day, but as a journalist, it was the place I wanted to be. I didn't want to be alone, and I had to know what was going on.

We each got a copy of the front page with a huge banner headline in some enormous font size, while the news unfolded that we were under attack, and it all came together. Pennsylvania, the Pentagon, and New York.

In the next few days and weeks the newsroom got calls about local people who wanted to help.

We got a call that some school kids in my coverage area had started collecting pennies at their school for the kids in New York. Of course every school was doing something in response to the disaster. I wrote stories on ladies who were making patriotic hats and donating money from the sales. Everyone wanted to help. Everyone I talked to said they wanted to go to Ground Zero to do anything they could.

It was such a great feeling to know that everyone - EVERYONE - was united in the United States of America.

I will always remember the way our country rallied, and unified. Remember all of the flags? I had one in my car for a long time. I went around our neighborhood and took loads of pictures of everyone's flags flying, taped to their car windows, or nailed to garage doors. Some were mounted on pickup trucks, and I remember one on a Harley that was so huge I thought it would surely get caught in the back wheel. Seeing that Harley with the flag billowing behind brought tears to my eyes.

This generation will never forget, and we'll tell our children and grandchildren where we were when we heard or saw the news. I just pray they will only have a vague understanding of it, and that they won't have a date of their generation.