This post was originally published on September 11, 2009.
Has it really been eight ten years? I remember September 11, 2001 as if it were…
…well, as if it were the horribly inauspicious day that it was.
The morning dawned bright and sunny here in Minnesota. I went for a walk while the rest of my family slept, and brought home a caterpillar to show the children. Its fuzzy little body was cradled carefully in my cupped palm, and the day struck me as full of promise.
It wasn’t long before the kids woke up—tousle-headed and hungry. I had three at that time: Joe was 4, Jem was 2, and Cate was a wee bouncing babe of 10 months. I got to work scrambling eggs, pouring juice, and enjoying the hustle & bustle & noise of my busy household.
At about 9:15, the phone rang. It was my sister, Renee.
“Margie, do you have the T.V. on?” Her voice was filled with urgency.
“No, I don’t. Why?”
“We’re under attack. It’s horrible.”
And so it was. My husband was on his way to work and stopped by the television, briefcase in hand. We watched in silence as the first building collapsed.
“That can’t be good,” he said somberly, and then, “Well, I gotta go.”
(This is perhaps the one humorous recollection I have from this morning. Even in the midst of uncertainty and crisis, my husband was…my husband. He was only gone for a hour, however, as he was working in the tallest building in the Twin Cities and not surprisingly, it got shut down.)
I was left, alone and bereft, to care for my children and to wonder what was next.
I know that most people were glued to their television set that day, but I just couldn’t watch it. I just couldn’t. I needed to distance myself from the horror and focus instead on the three little people that needed me.
My children were a great comfort to me that day. Their sweetness, their innocence…they seemed to embody everything that was right about the world and yet, in a way, made the attacks all the more frightening. I started to watch EWTN’s live feed on the kitchen computer. They were offering a Mass for all the victims, and the comfort of that network was where I needed to be.
John came home and went directly to the office upstairs. He had Important Attorney Things to do—a deadline that he had to meet—yet still. I couldn’t believe his focus. He didn’t watch the TV either. He sat at that desk for the majority of the day, doing the work that was required of him and perhaps finding solace in its normalcy.
Later I was out on the deck with the children when my neighbor Margaret wandered over.
“I tell you,” she said, “I’m clinging to my beads today.” I nodded sympathetically. Normally Margaret was not one to discuss her spiritual life; today it seemed expected.
Then my neighbor made a surprising request. “Would you mind if I borrowed Jem for a while?” she asked. “Just for an hour or so?”
I didn’t mind.
In fact, I totally understood.
Eventually John made his way downstairs and set his lunch dishes in the sink. “What do you think,” he asked, turning to me, “of inviting the neighbors over for a prayer service later tonight?”
“I think that’s a great idea,” I replied, feeling a rush of love for my husband and a sudden sense of duty. “Could I make bars?”
“You can make bars,” he smiled.
John said he would watch the kids so that I could run to the store for some ingredients. (I even remember the bars that I made—they were “Caramel Layer Chocolate Squares” from a local cookbook, North Country Cabin Cooking
Everyone just seemed pensive and…respectful. There’s really no other word for it. It was as if we were thinking, this could be it for us. This day could well be our last.
Because for thousands just like us, it was.
Our neighbors began arriving around 7 p.m. and by 7:30 we were ready to begin. John had left it up to me to plan the service, and because we had friends from different denominations, I thought it best to keep the prayers simple and biblical. I read a passage from Sacred Scripture and invited a neighbor to do the same; we prayed as a group; we talked and hugged.
At one point I remarked that this world was in rough shape, but my neighbor Margaret disagreed. Her optimism and faith made a strong impression on me. It was true; we could not give up.
The Berns family as we were, September 2001The prayers, the visiting, the coffee and dessert…it was a comforting close to a very confused day. As I tucked my three children into their beds that night to the eerie silence of an empty sky, my thoughts were calm though my life seemed uncertain. Hatred and evil were out there, yes, but the faith and hope of this country were stronger.
Our love did and does see us through.
Ad Jesum per Mariam,
"…the day struck me as full of promise."
Me too! I remember my housemate saying as we walked outside under that beautiful, clear blue sky: "I think this is going to be a bad day." I looked up and thought: "Seriously? A beautiful day like this seems ominous to you? You're nuts!"
I was living and working near Quantico on 9/11. It was a rather unnerving place to be. We actually heard planes flying that day — military planes. I was, unfortunately, glued to Fox News the whole day long — just waiting for something else to happen.
Suddenly, I got the overwhelming urge to do dishes, step away from the television set and do something NORMAL. It was a welcome relief. Our local parish had adoration that night. That too was a blessed relief.
I watched the morning coverage, and then had to attend a fairy dress-up party! I remember walking through the bright sunshine and thinking it was so surreal that the day could be so lovely, so quiet, when such disasters were occuring. The party hostess was furious terrorists had struck on the day of her party.
One thing that surprises me is how many Americans assumed they were under attack … and yet went to work as normal, carried on as normal, instead of preparing for possible further attacks. In NZ there was a sense of safety, being so far away, but like Suzanne I still kept waiting for something else to happen. Mind you, I always had a little bit of sympathy for George Bush continuing to be with the school children – getting lost in normalcy for a moment while he tried to process the bizarre thing that had just happened.
My thoughts are with all Americans today on this very sad anniversary.
It seems so strange that 10 years ago on Sept. 11 I was not married, did not have the 3 children I have now. I was in college. I will never forget that morning. I was getting ready for class. I had the t.v. on in the background. I walked by and I really thought what I was seeing was an advertisement for a movie. I came back a few minutes later, and realized it was not a movie, but was very real. Our country was under attack. Classes were cancelled for the rest of the day, because nobody knew what was going to happen next. My room mate and I prayed a lot that night, and we were also glued to the t.v. I could not wait to go home to my family. Let us all pray this weekend for our country, and all who give their lives to protect it from evil.
Ten years ago, I was living in California, watching the TV after getting a very emotional phone call from my mom.
I'm originally from Queens, NY. My dad is a retired New York police detective, and my parents are there this weekend for the 10th anniversary.
I haven't been back since. I think I'll remember in my own little way tomorrow, by going to Mass and avoiding all the TV coverage.
Always good to remember.
Beautiful post.
I was asleep! My older two kids were 3 and 2-years-old, and both early risers, so I was in the habit of going to bed pretty early back then. It was 10:15 PM Japan time when the attack happened. My husband woke me up a little after saying, "somethings happening… you'd better come see the news."
I just remember sitting in front of the TV watching and crying for hours into the night. I called family in the US just to check up, though none were anywhere near any of the areas that were hit. I felt very far away that night.
This morning we prayed at Mass for the 10 year anniversary and the 6 month anniversary of the earthquake/tsunami/nuclear disaster over here. On the way home my husband and I talked about how wonderful it is to be Catholic – that we can pray not only for the survivors, or for future peace, but for the souls of the lost as well. Thanks be to God.
Remembering 9/11 for me is tragic in 2 ways. Remembering the terrible evil, and senseless loss of life and that I was a fallen away Catholic at the time and didnot have the comfort of the Holy Mass to lift ALL of the victims up in prayer and give me hope.
"I know that most people were glued to their television set that day, but I just couldn’t watch it. I just couldn’t. I needed to distance myself from the horror and focus instead on the three little people that needed me."
Me too! But as my husband was away on a business trip (that obviously took several days to *drive* home from), I couldn't bear to be in a house of silence with my three little ones knowing my hubby wasn't coming home for a while. I found great refuge in the Food Network. It was the only channel not playing constant reruns of the horrifying crashes. To this day, when I put on the Food Network, I think of 9/11.
I love reading your posts, and it's good to remember where we were on that horrible day. I just have one question. Why did your neighbor Margaret want to borrow your 2 year old son? Was it because children have a way of making you feel better in bad situations?
At home…with my 2 month, 2, 4, and 6 year olds. I rarely watch TV and received about 3 calls in a row on my answering maching to turn on the TV – now! (same thing when the bridge collapsed)
My dh was in Indianapolis on business and was supposed to come home soon. I remember feeling very lonely and wishing he were home. I remember being worried about how he would get home! Then that all changed…I knew he would get home (barring any car accident – I prayed hard those 10+ hours he was driving alone in a rented car).
There were so many people whose loved ones would never come home. Many of them already knew it and many were still in agony waiting for answers.
Yes, Ann, I think that's it. It was my impression that my neighbor needed to lean on my 2-year-old's innocence for a bit–that she found comfort in his being, well, so very little & cute.
I switching the TV over to Sesame Street for Toddler Colin just after the first plane hit. As I was changing the channel I said to myself, "That's not right." And I went back.
I had to go to work at the newspaper across the lake. We spent the morning running back and forth between work and the appliance store down the street.
My husband was at a meeting (at the tallest building in the Twin Cities) and I remember calling tearfully, "Please just come home."
Who knew what was going to happen. It was so frightening.
I hung my flag and prayed through the Psalms. I wrote a column that week that basically said they were cowards for attacking those poor innocent New Yorkers. If they wanted a fight, they should have come out here. It was a scary and empowering feeling all at the same time. I'd say the same thing yet today.
On 9/11/01 I was at my weekly nutritionist meeting. All of a sudden someone came running in with a TV yelling "We are under attack!" Mind you, I live in Staten Island, NY a mere 40 minute commute to NYC. My husband works downtown, a few blocks from Ground Zero. Luckily he was able to leave a message on my cell phone telling me that he was ok. That was at 9am, before the second tower was hit. I stayed for a little while at the nutritionists office, and I saw the second plane hit. At that point I was too upset to drive. I needed to get ahold of myself so I could take care of what I needed to. My oldest daughter was at school near the Verranzano Narrows Bridge, and I live 30 minutes from there. I couldn't get to her, they had closed off the street that led to her building. I had heard that on the news, so I did not attempt to go get her. My other 3 children attended my neighborhood parish school. I stopped by there to tell them that their Dad was OK, and then went to my friend's house. I felt that my kids were in the safest place they could be. My friend who worked downtown called her babysitter and told her to leave her kids in school too. Her husband is a police captain, and works in our neighborhood. My oldest daughter attended Pace University which was downtown Manhattan. Luckily she was working with the young repubicans that morning. (It was a primary day.) and did not go to class that morning. The rest of the day is a blur, except for the phone call I recieved from my neighbor telling me she was going to go and pick up both of our girls at their school. She left to get them, I went to pick up my other 3 at school and I took home my other friend's daughter with me that day and gave her dinner, and kept her until her father came to pick her up that evening. I remember my husband coming home that night full of dust. It was from that time on that he has had a cough , which I think it caused by him being exposed to all the dust that day. It was the scariest day of my life. I was so grateful when my husband came walking in the door that night around 10pm. He was not the same for a long time after that. He has mellowed a lot since then, and doesn't work nearly as much overtime as he used to.