Remembering fifteen years ago
This past Sunday marked the 15th anniversary of America’s darkest day since Dec. 7, 1941. Sept. 11, 2001 was just another late summer day for all of us. The weather was near perfect; not a cloud in the sky that morning as the usual workday began. I was working at a local cabinet manufacturing plant, loading cabinets into trucks that would ship out to East Coast markets, including the New York and New Jersey areas. Around 8:50 a.m., the morning radio show I was listening to broke the usual banter with a simple announcement that a plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center Towers. Being a volunteer firefighter and the size and scale of those buildings from seeing them on TV, I wondered how the firemen would tackle such a big incident.
It wasn’t long after that initial announcement that every news station was reporting the incident in Manhattan, and then, the second plane hit the South Tower.
I remember the factory coming to a standstill as everyone listened to the reporters giving as much information as they could. It wasn’t until a bit later while on break that we actually saw the event someone had put a TV in the break room and everyone stood there watching with the same shocked look on their face. At home, my mom had been anxiously awaiting a call from her brother in California who was on his way back to Owingsville for their brother’s funeral. When my uncle called to say his flight had been stopped on the taxiway, he had no idea what was taking place across the United States. All flights had been grounded and he was stranded in San Diego, but was safe. As the morning went by, it got much worse; the Pentagon was struck, reports of fires and car bombs all over New York and Washington were coming in which were thankfully false reports. Another plane had been hijacked and crashed in Pennsylvania while en route to another target in our Capital. America was under attack and it didn’t seem anyone was safe. And then, the towers fell.
The factory shut production down early that day and we all left not knowing what was going to happen next. I had just separated from the Army Reserves and wondered if I would be recalled back into service. I called the sergeant’s desk at the 4209th Army Hospital and was assured that the unit was not activated. I left work and went to the fire station in Owingsville where some of the other guys had gathered, watching the events unfold. We talked about all the firemen who must have been trapped under the rubble and seriously considered loading our gear and heading east to New York, but realized there would probably no way we could possibly get into the city once we got that far. It was almost surreal, we wandered around for quite a while not knowing what to do, but wanted to do something. I went home finally and the mood was about the same there as everywhere. Our innocence and solace had been taken away within the course of 102 minutes.
The first candle light vigil in Bath County was held that night at Salt Lick Fire Department; a kind of informal gathering at the station by some of the firefighter wives. A good-sized crowd joined us in prayers and patriotic songs for about a half hour, and then we just kind of meandered off. I remember going home again that night feeling just drained from the day. The days following, the news reports were constant about the attacks; the images of the World Trade Center ruins and billowing dust and smoke became iconic. The sense of patriotism the country exhibited was indescribable. There were no boundaries, no black or white, all Americans were united and ready to strike back at those who attacked us. Not since Desert Shield and Desert Storm had I seen that much pride in our country. A few days after the attacks, there was a community rally in Owingsville with hundreds of people attending. The Owingsville Fire Department alone raised over $1500 by standing out at the intersection of Slate Avenue and Main Street with empty boots for people to donate whatever the could, sending that money directly to New York City.
Fast forward fifteen years later. Time has changed things. We look over our shoulder more now and have become a skeptical nation. That sense of overwhelming patriotism has faded into a division of politics and social unrest. For children who were too young or born after the attacks on Sept. 11, 2001, I hope they will never experience another day like that. I hope that one day that sense of patriotism and cohesiveness returns at a much lesser price. People ask, “where were you on 9/11?” I think we should ask, “where did we go since then?”.
