12:51 pm6 Years Ago, Today
9/11 is to my generation what the Kennedy assassination or Pearl Harbor is to older generations. I will always remember where I was when I heard the news and saw the images, which I’m sure is true for everyone else as well.
On September 11, 2001, I was six months pregnant with Zoe. Jachin, the little precious-head, was a mere two years old. The morning started out very typical. Jon was in the shower, I was lying still in bed (trying to calm my ever queasy stomach with crackers), and Jachin was lying on our bedroom floor watching PB&J Otter on the Disney Channel. (As a side note: I loved that show. I wish it were still on.) The phone rang and I answered. On the other end was Jon’s life-long friend, Stuart, who was living in Oregon at the time. I knew right away it was Stuart (he has one of those voices that is recognizable from just the casual ”hey, Suzanne”) but I was a little surprised to be hearing from him on a regular old Tuesday morning in September. It wasn’t a birthday or a holiday. Just a Tuesday… and kind of early, especially on Oregon time. He said, “Are you watching TV?” I said yes. He was quiet. Then I said, “We’re watching Disney Channel”, which — I later realized — happened to be about the only channel not airing live footage from Manhattan. Stuart said, “Turn on the news.”
I switched the channel over and saw the first tower smoking. I said, “What is going on?” Stuart said, “Someone flew a plane into it a few minutes ago.” I sat there quietly. I couldn’t really wrap my head around it. I was thinking that it was an accident. A really, really bad accident. Then, with Stuart on the phone, I saw the second plane come around and hit the second tower. We both just kind of gasped. I said, “What was that?”, even though I knew what it was and I somehow now knew that it wasn’t an accident. I sent Jachin to his room to play. Stuart sat on the phone with me for another minute or two, but neither of us really said much. Just the occasional ”oh-my-gosh” and “unbelievable”. Finally, Stuart and I just hung up. I went into the bathroom and told Jon, through our green shower curtain, what was going on. He just kept saying, “What?” I think I was kind of blabbering, or maybe he thought I was being dramatic. It’s a weird thing to tell someone in the shower.
Jon got dressed for work while we kept watching the live footage. I asked him if he was going to work. He said, “I guess so.” I had images in my head of his work being bombed. A plane flying right into his office. Two-thousand miles away from New York, but were there more planes? Were they going to hit all over the U.S.?
Jon has a sister who nanny’s in New York. We tried all morning and afternoon to get a hold of her. Phone lines were all down or jammed.
There were more planes. The pentagon, the downed plane in a field in Pennsylvania. I felt strange all day and I wanted Jon to come home from work. I was sad to be pregnant that day.
Late in the afternoon, someone finally got a hold of Jon’s sister. She was physically fine.
I felt strange for weeks. More stories and information came out. Cell phone recordings were released. Stories of brave, heroic people came to the front. I was sad that people had to be brave or heroic at all. They just wanted to take a flight. Maybe they didn’t want to be heroes. I was sad again to be having another baby. I was feeling dark about the world.
My mom told me that’s why the world needed more kids. The world needs more good, brave, loving, honest, patriotic, righteous, valiant people to counter the evil, callous, cowardly, hate-filled people. Each child born is a new chance at that.
When I think of that, I am renewed in my attempts to raise great kids. Great people. Awesome individuals.
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Oh, Suzanne. What a touching post. I’ll never forget that day either.
Yesterday at ballet class, one of the mothers who was ready-to-pop pregnant was telling us how much she hoped her baby wouldn’t come on September 11th. She was having some far apart contractions already and worried about it. Your post made me think of her.
Comment by Leslie — September 11, 2007 @ 1:55 pm
This is beautifully written. I, too, remember strongly how the day felt - I had resolved in my mind just a couple days before to take the kids to the airport more often, for fun, because it’s only 10 minutes away. The days following without any planes in the air were eerie, frightening, and maddening.
Today I had my English class read a poem called “Alabanza,” written for workers in the Windows on the World restaurant. Thankfully I didn’t start bawling, and thankfully they were smart & eloquent & respectful.
Comment by stephanie — September 11, 2007 @ 9:17 pm
Parley was only 7 months old when it happened. I really hated not living by family that day. Well, most days, but that day especially!
Comment by Sam — September 12, 2007 @ 7:33 am