After the first few remembrance ceremonies, I tended to pretty much forget that day. It wasn't part of my daily life. I did not lose anybody I knew there - unless a passing acquaintance I never knew was involved. It's not that I didn't live that day glued to information sources, because I did. I was horrified, confused, angry, worried about what else might come from whoever our enemies were that were doing this, and even more, worried about what our current leaders would do or not do as a result. I was not worried personally for my safety that day, because the targets so far had all been along the east coast, centers of power and of government. Who'd attack Minnesota? Why?
There are memories tied to visual images that day, though with a single exception not of images of the destruction. Not then. I was in my car all day, working as a courier. Because we were now computer dispatched rather than radio dispatched, the car radio could be turned on all day, and was. My choice was the news service of Minnesota Public Radio. There were times I flipped over to their classical music station when I needed calming, but I liked to start with news most mornings. I still do, plus weather.
I can tell you we had sunshine and blue skies that morning. I'd just pulled into a parking spot at some medical building in Stillwater, almost to the very east of the state but still up the hill away from the river. The radio program was calmly interrupted by a rumor they couldn't verify yet that a plane had just flown into a building in New York. As I was leaving my car, my immediate thought was that some idiot tourist showing off in a little two-seater had made the wrong turn, or hit some unexpected updraft. and probably broken a few windows, maybe hurt somebody inside, but not very likely to repeat their stupidity... permanently
I walked into the building which was my first stop of the morning at 8:15. The receptionist was upset, having just heard the news herself. Neither of us knew more, but did our business, and went on about our day. I headed the car into the cities, waiting for any work that might go along with what I had on board, listening to the news. There was more information already. They now confirmed the crash - it wasn't an "attack" yet - was from a passenger plane. Details filtered in. It was a regular commercial jet, full of passengers, and ground control confirmed they were ignored by whoever was flying. The authorities were still looking for expected causes, problems with controls, something mechanical in the cockpit not fixed in time... nobody could tell... yet.
At this point I called my parents. Their usual routine would have them at the breakfast table, no TV on, just a quiet meal and conversation. They would always answer the phone, however, and by this time I had a cell phone. Mom answered. I skipped the pleasantries and asked her if they had the TV on yet? She said no and asked why? I didn't answer directly but told her to just go turn it on! I wasn't quite ready to break the news to them yet. She asked me what channel to turn on? I said it didn't matter, there was bad news and it would be on every single channel. Pick whatever you usually watch. She said she would, and since it was a land line, hung up to go turn on the TV.
When I write that I recall 9/11 in pictures, this conversation's image is not the highway I was driving on. It's always my mental image of their apartment, them at the table with the TV across the room. Obviously I did a pretty good job of driving safely and not remembering any of it. For hours I went from job to job, recalling only what I heard on the radio while making sure I went to the next place I needed to be for the packages I need to move. What registered? A second plane. The second tower. Fires and people jumping to a quick death to avoid death by fire burned imaginary images into my brain, wondering who one would chose to jump off with? Or go alone? Would you watch the ground approach, the fire you left, or each other? That too is indelible even as an imaginary image, understanding instantly why that choice was being made by so many people. I still had no real visuals the way most of the world did by this time.
News filtered in piece by piece, the second tower, the Pentagon, the heroes forcing the fourth plane to crash, knowing they were going to die either way but this way preventing the planned damage. I imagined some of those phone calls to loved ones, wondering if all the passengers had cell phones or they were being shared in the few minutes left to them. Somewhere in there news came that all airports were shut down, all flights cancelled until further notice. I wondered who would be selfish enough to pitch a hissy fit over that, (imaginary image inside airport terminal here) sure there'd be a few, positive they knew they were more important than some plane crash(es) somewhere else.
My second real indelible image from that day I can't place in time of day, though I'm sure others can who were glued to their TVs watching events unfold in a world where cameras are everywhere whether something is happening or not. I know I walked into building after building, doing my job despite the people in those building being glued to TVs brought in from who knows where - I never asked - and getting very little business work done. I'd manage each time to get my package, claim a signature when it was dropped, but had no direct evidence other work was getting done anywhere.
Not, at least, until I walked into that church in Wayzata, a town as far out past the west edge of the metro as my first job was past the east end of the greater metropolitan area. I recall parking because I was trying to figure out which door to approach. Whatever I had was heavy enough to make a long hike a consideration, and no, I almost never knew what was inside whatever packages I had. So many churches have office doors open during the week and all else locked tight. Looking for clues and finding none, I climbed the many stairs up to the front of the church, surprised to discover it wasn't locked. There were more stairs inside, and I could see a portable TV on a table up at the top, turned on, and just as I'd told my mom, tuned to the only news of the day. As I stood for a moment, getting some energy back before hunting the church offices, of course I finally watched the first TV I'd had access to that day. They were repeating the towers going down, first one, then the other, over and over. My image insists, despite other people's denial, that the floors pancaked down, one dropping onto the next dropping onto the next, and so forth until clouds of destruction rose and obscured everything. I'd been out of my car long enough that my radio hadn't mentioned they were falling yet. I hadn't thought that it might happen, somehow thinking the fires would be put out (miraculously I suppose) and the damage fixed, the towers again on the skyline.
It must have been shock enough on top of other shocks that day that I quit making new memories of that day. I know I continued working. I know I came home and watched TV, though by then for most of the world it was all old news. Somewhere in there I did make a mental note that I was glad it hadn't happened a day earlier, ruining my birthday forever, followed immediately by remembering I knew another woman whose birthday I'd just learned, and for her, her birthday was now forever spoiled.
I wonder if she's gotten enough distance from that day that she can celebrate again, have a normal day on "her day". I hope so.
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