This is a column I wrote which ran in the Evansville Courier and Press this morning.
Good Morning (From Today's Evansville Courier)
Our lives never the same after Sept. 11 attacks
When John F. Kennedy was killed in November 1963, I was 6 years old. I remember little, except for the boom-boom-boom of Beethoven’s dirge from the black and white Dumont television during the president’s funeral.
When Ronald Reagan was shot in 1981, I was blocks away in Washington, D.C. Several of us from a business conference knew Reagan was leaving the Hilton, and we hoped to get a glimpse of him. Suddenly a group of huge, black cars blew past us.
I didn’t know what happened until I called my mother in Indiana from a pay phone. Mom had their lone RCA cabinet television on, and knew what happened before I did.
Under a beautiful blue winter sky in 1986, I stood outside in Florida with some co-workers to watch space shuttle Challenger rise in the east. I remember that day very well; it was so cool that I wore a blue wool plaid skirt to work. Wearing wool in Central Florida is most unusual, even in January.
Even 100 miles away, the launch of a shuttle never grew tiring. This one was confusing; a minute or so after launch, something happened. Plumes of smoke flew in every direction, and pieces of the ship followed. The long, white smoke trailed off forever. Again, we had to rely on the television in the hospital lobby to affirm the horror we had just witnessed.
On the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, I was getting ready for work. I watched ‘The Today Show,’ which isn’t live in Central Time. Suddenly the view shifted, the anchors mumbled, and the southward-focused camera on the roof of Rockefeller Center showed a smoking World Trade Center. Katie Couric said something about a small plane possibly off-course, hitting the Trade Center.
My husband also was preparing for work when the first plane hit, our sixth-grader was already at Sharon School taking the ISTEP test.
Even in the heartland, miles from any of the four terror sites, that Tuesday was a day never to be forgotten.
I never went to work. I couldn’t leave the television, and I sat there half dressed for hours. My company called eventually and told us to stay home; most physician offices were closing and didn’t need the interruption of sales reps. My husband went to work at the university — classes continued, but students were distracted.
At my son’s elementary school, his teacher wheeled in a television and turned it away from the students. She turned the sound down, but my son caught enough to know that something was up. The principal made the decision to continue the testing. At least every student tested on a level playing field, some with uncertain knowledge of the world burning.
When my son got off the bus at 3 p.m. I was waiting at the end of the driveway.
Later that evening I went to the store to pick up some groceries. Flying above me in formation was a squadron of F-16s. I knew what kind of planes they were from the movies. While we live between Fort Campbell, Fort Knox and Scott Air Force Base, I had not seen planes flying so low and along the path of Indiana 66 near the Ohio River.
While we witness history daily — sometimes up close — Sept. 11, 2001, was a day that compared to no other. I knew life would never be the same in my 11-year-old’s lifetime, even in this small Midwestern town.
Our lives never the same after Sept. 11 attacks
When John F. Kennedy was killed in November 1963, I was 6 years old. I remember little, except for the boom-boom-boom of Beethoven’s dirge from the black and white Dumont television during the president’s funeral.
When Ronald Reagan was shot in 1981, I was blocks away in Washington, D.C. Several of us from a business conference knew Reagan was leaving the Hilton, and we hoped to get a glimpse of him. Suddenly a group of huge, black cars blew past us.
I didn’t know what happened until I called my mother in Indiana from a pay phone. Mom had their lone RCA cabinet television on, and knew what happened before I did.
Under a beautiful blue winter sky in 1986, I stood outside in Florida with some co-workers to watch space shuttle Challenger rise in the east. I remember that day very well; it was so cool that I wore a blue wool plaid skirt to work. Wearing wool in Central Florida is most unusual, even in January.
Even 100 miles away, the launch of a shuttle never grew tiring. This one was confusing; a minute or so after launch, something happened. Plumes of smoke flew in every direction, and pieces of the ship followed. The long, white smoke trailed off forever. Again, we had to rely on the television in the hospital lobby to affirm the horror we had just witnessed.
On the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, I was getting ready for work. I watched ‘The Today Show,’ which isn’t live in Central Time. Suddenly the view shifted, the anchors mumbled, and the southward-focused camera on the roof of Rockefeller Center showed a smoking World Trade Center. Katie Couric said something about a small plane possibly off-course, hitting the Trade Center.
My husband also was preparing for work when the first plane hit, our sixth-grader was already at Sharon School taking the ISTEP test.
Even in the heartland, miles from any of the four terror sites, that Tuesday was a day never to be forgotten.
I never went to work. I couldn’t leave the television, and I sat there half dressed for hours. My company called eventually and told us to stay home; most physician offices were closing and didn’t need the interruption of sales reps. My husband went to work at the university — classes continued, but students were distracted.
At my son’s elementary school, his teacher wheeled in a television and turned it away from the students. She turned the sound down, but my son caught enough to know that something was up. The principal made the decision to continue the testing. At least every student tested on a level playing field, some with uncertain knowledge of the world burning.
When my son got off the bus at 3 p.m. I was waiting at the end of the driveway.
Later that evening I went to the store to pick up some groceries. Flying above me in formation was a squadron of F-16s. I knew what kind of planes they were from the movies. While we live between Fort Campbell, Fort Knox and Scott Air Force Base, I had not seen planes flying so low and along the path of Indiana 66 near the Ohio River.
While we witness history daily — sometimes up close — Sept. 11, 2001, was a day that compared to no other. I knew life would never be the same in my 11-year-old’s lifetime, even in this small Midwestern town.
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Steven J. Gulitti
Barbara Weicksel
Don Rich
SpiritManSF
TimingLogic
Howard Steven Friedman
Salon.com
Comments
Our town was a funeral pyre.
:-(
Does it not seem odd to you that all but one of the “terrorist” pilots who flew those planes into the towers, the pentagon, and elsewhere, DID NOT QUALIFY FOR THE TRAINING THEY GOT in the US? No questions you want answered about who got unqualified people into those training courses?
No questions about the traces of high explosive - that only the US government had - that were found in the third tower? No questions at all about why that third tower came down? (It wasn’t hit by a plane)
I suppose that you’ll also have no questions when your government does something similar in future to further erode your freedom of movement and association and speech.
Sleep on little dreamers, sleep on.
.
They "hate our freedoms"? Yea, that would make anyone want to blast us off the map. What are we, a bunch of idiots? Never mind, I know that answer.
Why don't we stop pissing people off around the world? We are a murderous bunch of mfers, the most powerful and dumbest that ever walked the face of the earth.
Let us extend a helping hand to the rest of our species around the world, instead of shaking an angry, idiotic fist, and see what happens. Can we all agree on that?
If not, kma and gth.
Thank you for posting this. We will always remember. May they all rest in peace.
www.popularmechanics.com/technology/military/news/1227842
.......and maybe he already has.
(What? You couldn’t find a better publication than Popular Mechanics?!)
Pure bafflegab intended for the “believers” of government integrity. And believing in government integrity, dear sir, takes a far greater leap of imagination than almost any of the weird opinions of what happened, how, and why on 9/11....!!!!
Please point me to the article(s) you’ve discovered on how unqualified people got into flight school for planes that size and that offer proof that this was done because somebody (who?) “hates our freedom” (not much left to hate there, now is there?).
Or does “hates our freedom” mean “hates our making free with other nation’s resources and murdering their citizens if they object?”
And if it WAS done by people who “hate our freedoms”, I can’t think of any more likely suspects than our own “elite” who hate the freedoms left to the average citizen more than anyone else. They are the ones who have been working overtime to limit, reduce, and eliminate those freedoms for decades, if not centuries.
.