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I asked for community memories about the tragedy on September 11, 2001, and was a bit surprised I didn't receive more. But then I thought about what I would write, and realized how difficult it was to think back to the emotions of that day. For all of us who were adults that day, it's hard to forget. We don't want to think about it. But I asked others to remember, so I must too.
It was my last week of work as the Executive Director of the Webster City Chamber of Commerce. I had made a decision to go back to college, saving the funds to do that. After 13 years in Chamber work, I felt it was time to step away. The downtown renovation had been completed. It was time.
My parents had flown out to Los Angeles to spend time with my brother and his family earlier in September. They traveled rarely. I was taking care of their cats at their home when I received a call from work, telling me a plane had crashed into a building in New York and it was all over the news. I turned on the television and at that point, the newscasters thought it was just a terrible accident, that a pilot had suffered a major health event.
I hurried and went to work. After trying to follow what was happening, I went to the Home Appliance store to purchase an antenna for the television we had in the office. I set it up in my office, and turned it on.
When the second plane hit the building, it became apparent it was no accident. I remember praying for people to hurry to get out of the building. I knew somehow that the people who survived needed to get out quickly. The newscasters were saying there were people jumping out of windows. We saw arms waving fabric out of windows.
I was watching when the first building collapsed; pancaked on itself, and the debris billowed down the streets of New York. At that point, it was apparent the second building would probably do the same thing.
I honestly didn't think I could bear much more anxiety, all I could do was pray. There were tears, most everyone was in shock. No one knew what to do. I felt God was weeping with all of us, as the people who were running and walking out of downtown New York were struggling to reach some place safely.
No one knew where that was.
My Aunt Cleo, who was in her mid-80's, came to my office that day. She sat down in the chair, looked at me and said "I can't stay alone. This is like Pearl Harbor all over again."
She stayed with me all day, and we listened to the news reports, the President being flown out of Florida, where he had been reading to school children. We listened as the planes were all told to land at the closest airport. We heard about the Pentagon being attacked too, and that there was a childcare center within the Pentagon. We heard about another plane going down in an empty field.
Some people were being rescued. Not enough. The ambulances sat ready to take the injured. Very few were used. Photos of family members began to be posted, with hopes they were injured. We slowly realized that there were thousands of people dead or dying in the rubble.
We finally acknowledged that we were under attack.
And there was speculation that there might be future targets. One rumor was that the major cities of Chicago and Los Angeles would be next.
No one felt they could move.
I remember very little about the next few days, as I was organizing and emptying my desk, trying to finish out my last days at work. There was a small gathering for my last day of work, but there was a dark mood prevalent.
A small memorial service was held at the Hamilton County Courthouse that week also. I remember standing by a woman who knew many of the people who worked on the top floors of the Trade Center. None of them survived. She stood by me and trembled throughout the memorial service.
The Sunday after 9/11, our church attendance was greater. We prayed together, we wept. The pain, the loss, the anxiety was evident in the air around us.
The planes across the country were grounded for several days after 9/11. My parents were supposed to stay another week or two in California, however, my dad insisted they come right home. He did not want to fly. In fact, he never flew again, anywhere.
My brother and I agreed to meet in Colorado Springs, I would pick up my parents and return them home. My aunt joined me, she didn't want to be alone, and we started a cross country trip. We talked about how similar the feelings were for those who were alive during the attack on Pearl Harbor.
I didn't go back to college. Finances became unstable. Our lives were all changed, there was a shift in thinking about what was truly important. Taking care of parents, aunts, uncles, became the focus. Families saw their sons and daughters enlist into the armed services to help protect our country.
I have traveled to New York City three or four times since that day, visiting family there. I have been unable to go to any of the memorial sites. My heart broke that day for all the lives and loved ones lost. I still don't think I could bear the sadness of those exhibits.
No one forgot what happened at Pearl Harbor. No one should forget the World Trade Centers. It can happen here. We can pray that the younger generations never experience this level of fear and sadness.
But there will probably be a day, someday, that the hearts in our world will break again.
And there is no way to prepare for that.