Five years ago...
Five years ago, I woke up about 8:30 a.m. Central Standard Time, and followed my usual routine: I yawned and stretched. I turned on my computer so it would be booted up and I would have instant messages when I returned. I showered, I shaved, I got dressed. I returned to find no IMs, so I began checking my friends' away messages as usual. First on the list was my friend Ashok, whose away message basically conveyed the message, "An airplane has just crashed into the World Trade Center." It seemed a very odd thing to have as one's away message. Emotion does not tend to travel well over Instant Messenger, but I sensed a desperation and urgency, so I opened up Internet Explorer. My home page was Yahoo, which was peppered with large headlines conveying a similar desperation and urgency. I clicked the top link.
I blinked several times.
I stood up, and meandered into our living room, where Ben was in his usual crouch, studying. I said something like, "Um, Ben, I need to turn on the TV."
Five seconds later, the TV was on. Less than five minutes later, we watched as the second of the Twin Towers collapsed. We didn't say much. We stood there and watched.
(Interestingly, Ben vividly remembers watching it on the small TV in my room instead of the big TV in the living room. He may be right, but I vividly remember it this way.)
So much has been clarified since then that only when watching CNN pipeline this morning did I remember the initial confusion. On my way to lunch, I ran into Jeff on his way back from class, and he was sure this could not possibly be Middle Eastern terrorists. I remember that so well, because it seems so amazing in retrospect.
At lunch, I saw Yaz, whose mother was going to Pentagon City Mall that morning. He hadn't heard from her that day. All things considered he was relatively calm. (Yaz, raised Muslim, received remarkably few death threats in the weeks to follow.)
After lunch, I had a math class, where for an hour and 15 minutes the few of us that bothered to show up sat with our minds on the events of the external world while our professor lectured as if nothing had changed. To this day I'm not sure if he was just blissfully ignorant, or actually thought that refusing to acknowledge it altogether was the best course of action. As for me, I much preferred how Professor Spinrad dealt with it the next day, by saying something that still rings true: "The best thing to do in these situations is to keep going, because that's all you can do."
I talked to my dad on the phone after he got home from work. I wish I could remember what he said, but I remember never feeling more reassured in my life. That's more important, I think.
I went to a memorial service at Benton, not the same one Ben mentions. When they opened up the floor to anyone who wanted to yell a prayer, I wished I could come up with something to say. But there were no words, not really.
Through it all, there was a strange mixture of feelings: unity with all of my fellow students and my countrymen, fear at what the events of the day would mean for the future, helplessness to do anything about it. Ultimately, resolve, for better or worse.
So much has been said about the events of that day that any overarching statements I tried to relate would be mere echoes. I'll leave the ponderances to the experts. I think it's more important to relate 9/11 as we each remember it. It was not an event, but rather an experience. Like most of history, it transcends dates and mere description; it's not just about what happened, but also about what people felt.
It's amazing to think that, years from now, September 11, 2001 will simply be added to the list of important dates that schoolchildren memorize without regard to what those dates mean.
Song lyric of the day:
"Holding on
To let them know what's given to me
If I can remember
To know this will conquer me"
- Disturbed, Remember
I blinked several times.
I stood up, and meandered into our living room, where Ben was in his usual crouch, studying. I said something like, "Um, Ben, I need to turn on the TV."
Five seconds later, the TV was on. Less than five minutes later, we watched as the second of the Twin Towers collapsed. We didn't say much. We stood there and watched.
(Interestingly, Ben vividly remembers watching it on the small TV in my room instead of the big TV in the living room. He may be right, but I vividly remember it this way.)
So much has been clarified since then that only when watching CNN pipeline this morning did I remember the initial confusion. On my way to lunch, I ran into Jeff on his way back from class, and he was sure this could not possibly be Middle Eastern terrorists. I remember that so well, because it seems so amazing in retrospect.
At lunch, I saw Yaz, whose mother was going to Pentagon City Mall that morning. He hadn't heard from her that day. All things considered he was relatively calm. (Yaz, raised Muslim, received remarkably few death threats in the weeks to follow.)
After lunch, I had a math class, where for an hour and 15 minutes the few of us that bothered to show up sat with our minds on the events of the external world while our professor lectured as if nothing had changed. To this day I'm not sure if he was just blissfully ignorant, or actually thought that refusing to acknowledge it altogether was the best course of action. As for me, I much preferred how Professor Spinrad dealt with it the next day, by saying something that still rings true: "The best thing to do in these situations is to keep going, because that's all you can do."
I talked to my dad on the phone after he got home from work. I wish I could remember what he said, but I remember never feeling more reassured in my life. That's more important, I think.
I went to a memorial service at Benton, not the same one Ben mentions. When they opened up the floor to anyone who wanted to yell a prayer, I wished I could come up with something to say. But there were no words, not really.
Through it all, there was a strange mixture of feelings: unity with all of my fellow students and my countrymen, fear at what the events of the day would mean for the future, helplessness to do anything about it. Ultimately, resolve, for better or worse.
So much has been said about the events of that day that any overarching statements I tried to relate would be mere echoes. I'll leave the ponderances to the experts. I think it's more important to relate 9/11 as we each remember it. It was not an event, but rather an experience. Like most of history, it transcends dates and mere description; it's not just about what happened, but also about what people felt.
It's amazing to think that, years from now, September 11, 2001 will simply be added to the list of important dates that schoolchildren memorize without regard to what those dates mean.
Song lyric of the day:
"Holding on
To let them know what's given to me
If I can remember
To know this will conquer me"
- Disturbed, Remember
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