9/11/2004 04:44:32 PM|||Sarah|||

The Alan Jackson song captured September 11 perfectly. Everyone knows what they were doing that horrible morning when they first heard the news. Each person had a personal and unique reaction.

I was driving to the bank during my planning period at Howard High School in Maryland. I turned on my car radio to hear, "Oh, my God. A second one just hit." A couple of minutes later, my brother called my cell phone to tell me that he couldn't get through to my sister, who lives in New York City. I told him not to worry since I'm sure the signals were just messed up. I went in to handle my bank business, with most customers and tellers still blissfully unaware of what was happening. Of course, none of us really knew what was going on. That day was nothing but utter chaos and shock.

I returned to school to find every classroom TV tuned into the tragedy, with students and teachers crying. Soon, parents began pulling up to the school entrance to take their children home. We didn't know where the terrorists were going to strike next, and the instinct of parents to gather their young was understandable. Many of my students had parents who worked in D.C., even some in the Pentagon. They were beside themselves.

I called Nathan, just my boyfriend at the time. He said he woke up when his apartment shook and assumed it was the garbage truck or some nearby construction. Only after turning on his TV did he realize that what he felt was an airplane hitting the Pentagon less than half mile from his home.

The rest of the school day was spent in stunned silence as I watched over my half-empty classrooms. I finally reached my sister during lunch, and found out that she was busily taping up her windows in Brooklyn after finding it difficult to breathe. She would be spending the evening alone, as her boyfriend could not get out of New Jersey. Later that afternoon, she would try to give blood but was turned away because the line was too long.

My roommate was not home when I returned early that evening. She had gone to be with her parents. Her father worked at the Pentagon and it wasn't until five hours after the plane had struck that she knew he was OK. I was alone in my apartment and I was scared. I wanted Nathan to make the 40-minute drive, but the roads were closed by the Pentagon. Plus, he didn't know if it was safe to drive through D.C. By 9:00pm the roads had reopened and I pleaded with him to come. He did, and I was grateful. We didn't talk much that night, but we both cried. And, we awoke the next morning aching with grief but even more filled with pride in our country.

My story is different from those who walked home across the Brooklyn Bridge and saw people jumping from the buildings. Certainly, I cannot understand the experience of the rescue worker who found jawbones, fingers, and torsos. I also probably had more of an intimate experience than many who live in my current home of Tennessee who, as one friend put it, didn't really feel the impact until noticing that no planes were flying in the skies. It doesn't matter, though. No one can claim September 11th any more than another. It changed our country. It changed our world. We all rushed to buy flags, comfort a neighbor, join the military, give blood, and forge ahead with our lives. I am so proud to be an American.

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