Posted by Dan Ewert : 9/11/2002 08:35:00 AM (Archive Link)
You always remember where you are when something monumental happens. I did not yet have such an experience until last year. I remember exactly where I was… I was headed to work, going east on a city road and was about to turn south. The DJ on the radio said something about a plane flying into the World Trade Center in New York but she didn’t give any more specifics than that because at that point, nobody really knew what was happening. I sped to work so I could play with my desk radio’s dial or see if I could get into an online news site. The national sites were inaccessible due to traffic, but local news stations’ and newspapers’ sites were still up. I was appalled by the pictures I saw. I recall the radio saying that one of the towers had collapsed and I remember thinking that it was only the part of the tower above the impact that had come down. I couldn’t fathom that the entire building was destroyed. Not too much later, we found an old TV and set it up in the empty cubicle across the aisle from me. My day at the office was spent in a loop of doing a little work and then staring at the TV or talking with co-workers who were constantly cycling in and out. Finally, I went home early. I couldn’t concentrate and with the emotional and physical distractions, I was accomplishing nothing. So I packed up my laptop and left.

I took care of some house cleaning while I was home and I remember that it was a sunny, beautiful day in San Antonio. I even opened up the blinds and slid open the balcony door. I couldn’t help but feel the strangeness of it all… here I was experiencing a gorgeous day while on the TV in front of me, hell had been unleashed in New York. Hell had been unleashed in my country.

What were my emotions that day? An odd combination of tremendous grief and absolute rage. Several times I almost started crying and it was because of both feelings at once. My sadness came from the fact that my fellow citizens were dying and my rage came because they were, in fact, being killed. I hated the people who did it and I still do. I remember feeling as if my hate alone could smite them. My hate and rage, though, wallowed in frustration and helplessness. These horrible events were unfolding, I didn’t know what more may come, and I could nothing but watch. Seemingly, the powers that be could only do the same. I took grim satisfaction in knowing that our military would come to bear against whoever had done this and that politics, domestic or international, would not hinder us or second guess us. The first part is done, but this war doesn’t have clean beginning and end dates. It’s ongoing, and I hope we don’t lose our resolve.

Occasionally, I still feel some of those same emotions that I first felt on the 11th. It usually occurs when I’m reading stories related to it, especially those concerning the aftermath of families or personal recollections. Several weeks ago, while I was at the airport, I bought U.S. News and World Report's special edition on 9-11. I read a few articles but had to put the magazine down because I couldn’t handle any more than that at one time.