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#266 | Wednesday, November 21st 2001
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I woke up the morning of the 11th and went to my bathroom for my morning whiz and to get my daily dose of the king of all media. When I heard howard discussing the attack, I thought it was some zany "war of the worlds" takeoff. A quick check on the television verified that there was nothing zany about what was happening.
Annee and I sat silently on the bed watching as the destruction of the second tower unfolded. Working was the last thing I felt like doing but, nonetheless, I went to the office.
I listened to talk radio from the moment I got in the car until two weeks later after I could take no more of the countless permutations of the words "America, attacks, under, terror, war" that branded this flavor of media. R.I.P our lost brothers and sisters.
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Mike | 27 | Oregon
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#265 | Wednesday, November 21st 2001
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Where was I? En route to work. I live in Washington County, but my job was in the Wine Country. Which explains what I was even doing awake at 6am.
I was in a coffeehouse waiting to start the final segment of my commute, when a customer came in and said, "so, what do you think about that plane crash into the World Trade Center."
Like fifty million other people at that moment, the response was, "oh, it was jsut a King Air or some other commuter plane."
"No, it was a 737." Before I'd left, the size of the plane... and then planes... kept on getting bigger, and bigger.
It was Peter Jennings' voice on the radio, saying, "The south tower has just collapsed." Before I'd gotten to work WTC1 had also collapsed.
Even now, that memory sucks all of the substance from my innards.
Disbelief. I know, but my present train of thought is something I usually reserve for the final act of a work of Shakespeare.
What of the times since? Let me ramble...
I avoid downtown, but not consciously. I wonder what to think of the city where I was born. It's always been unique; now its distinction is even greater.
We discover that the people who did this were fighting the immorality they saw, never taking the time to ask if the people they were attacking might actually agree with their anger... if not their methods.
One of the columns in today's Oregonian was about one of the children who was aboard the plane that was crashed into the Pentagon, and what a basketball fan he was, how after all he never got his wish to see MJ play in real time.
That broke my heart.
As I started writing this one of my MP3's was on, a dance song with Russian lyrics that versifies love lost, a track I downloaded at work before the 11th. It's something both light and serious at the same time.
Now it goes a long way toward reminding me of the times we've left behind.
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Ben | 27 | Oregon
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