On 9.11.01, I had just finished feeding an 18 month old Lloyd breakfast. Joe was asleep, at the time he was working a 2nd shift job, the night before he had worked late, and hadn’t gotten home until 1 am.
My phone rang, it was an art director from The Daily News asking me if I had my TV on, I hadn’t. He told me that a plane had accidentally flown into The World Trade Center. I turned my TV on, just in time to see the second plane hit the South Tower – obviously this was no accident. Like millions of other Americans, I was riveted to the TV – shocked by the destruction, the dead, and the frightened people covered in dust, running to safety.
A half hour later, Flight 77 hit The Pentagon, and 15 minutes after that Flight 93 crashes into a field southeast of Pittsburg. I woke Joe up, and filled him in. I also packed a diaper bag and a small overnight bag, and set them by the front door. I reasoned that Philadelphia was a historic place, a large enough city that perhaps we could be next. I don’t know where I thought I was going, U.S. airspace had been shut down, and all Amtrak trains were cancelled. I guess it was a combination of busywork, and a feeling of helplessness. I began thinking about donating blood to The Red Cross, but as time went on – sadly, it wasn’t needed.
In the days that followed, there were news accounts of everyday people doing heroic things – like the hundreds of boats that rescued a half million people from Lower Manhattan. The best quote from the video, “Everyone was helping everyone.” Let’s hope that it doesn’t take another tragedy for our country to reunite.
