I remember where I was on Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001. It is hard to believe that we are looking at it as being 25 years ago. I lived through it, and those memories have remained clear and present ever since.
Manhattan is more than 250 miles from where I lived on Cape Cod. There are times when it feels like the other side of the world. On 9/11, it felt like everything I was seeing was happening right outside my door.
I was 23 years old, living with my family in a small house on a small road that ended in a cul-de-sac. It was a mundane morning. I had the day off from work and was sitting in the living room at our big, boxy dial-up internet-connected computer.
The morning consisted of writing an unremarkable email to my friend Barry. Back then I didn’t have a cell phone, so the best way to stay in touch with people was either through a landline phone or via email. I remember I was going to tell him I was going to visit Nickerson State Park in Brewster on my day off.
Despite never finishing that email, I still remember its contents. It was so blissfully ordinary. It was my last memory of the time before. I wish I had kept writing that email and sent it instead of turning off the computer. However, everything happened in a flash.
I remember my mother's frantic screams when she heard the first radio reports in her car. She was in the driveway. I don’t remember if she had just gotten home, or was getting ready to leave. Her screams for us to put on the television inside, I can hear today as I close my eyes.
From those early morning moments, I remained seated on the couch watching. I watched as the towers fell. It felt like watching a big-budget Hollywood film that was playing, but this was real. Everything from the television itself, to the layout of the living room, to the feeling of being hungry yet being frozen where I sat; it’s all still with me today.
I remembered the memories of visiting the Twin Towers when I was in 7th Grade. They all came flooding back as smoke and ash filled the view of Lower Manhattan on 9/11. That had been 10 years earlier, 35 years ago now, on a field trip from Mattacheese Middle School. Ironically, a lot of that trip is burned into my memory as well, but in a far more positive light.
It was my first real trip to New York City. My classmates and I saw the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and I even bought a bogus ‘gold’ chain off of a street vendor. One of the places we visited was the World Trade Center complex.
Looking up from the ground, the Twin Towers appeared to pierce the sky. I believe time was running short during that field trip, and so we were not able to go all the way up the 110 stories to the observation deck. We got to go inside to the lobby of one of the towers. I was able to go up to the first concourse level and look down. Maybe it was 20-30 feet up; I don’t remember that, but I can see the bustling energy of the people coming in and out still clear as day.
I remember the surreal feeling on 9/11 watching the towers fall, contrasted with the memories of being there years earlier. It was a struggle, knowing they were now only a memory. Things like that don’t happen, at least not on such a scale. It was like I was floating, or falling down an elevator shaft. I remember having that feeling for the next few days.
Being so far away was no comfort. Everything was on the table after watching the towers fall. Sure, in all honesty, I didn’t feel as though a plane was going to come crashing into any place near me, but that was of no comfort. On 9/11, especially in those early hours, you truly had no idea of what might happen next.
I remember my sister Kate, pregnant with my niece Emma (now 24), frantically calling my then-brother-in-law Peter. He was out on a job landscaping, and she told him what was happening and also wanted to make sure he was alright. She told him in so many words that the world as we knew it was coming to an end. It was hard to imagine such a bold and audacious thought being true, but it was.
I remember my niece Kaleigh, all of 2 ½ years old(now 27), staring at us with a mix of concern and curiosity at what was on the television that was causing all of our fear and angst. How do you explain what was happening to a child? I was in my 20s and couldn’t figure out how to explain it to anyone who might ask. My mother eventually brought Kaleigh into her bedroom and even put Barney on for her to watch, a show my mom really didn’t like. I often wonder if she has any memory from that day. Maybe it is more of an underlying feeling that she can’t explain?
Hours wore on, and I sat on that couch. The towers fell, the Pentagon was hit, and a mystery fourth plane had gone down in rural Pennsylvania. Even when all air travel was suspended, it felt as though some new threat was going to begin. I remember feeling physically on edge but mentally tired watching things unfold.
I am an empath; it’s always been a blessing and a curse. On 9/11, my heart and soul ached for the thousands of people in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania affected directly by the attacks. Then I’d think of the families and friends of those lost in the attacks. It was a scale of sadness and loss I’d never imagined.
It was a push and pull between wanting to close my eyes and forcing them to watch. There were a few moments where I wanted to retreat into my bedroom, or take off in my car to try to escape it. There was no escaping it. This was real. This was serious. This was a line of demarcation between one timeline and another.
I remember fearing that if I stopped watching, something else would happen. It was as if I was waiting for a cut scene, like it was a docudrama where they would say, 'that's what the end of days would look like.' Then life would go back to normal, but it didn't. It really never has.
That day on Cape Cod was perfect weather-wise. It was sunny, low humidity, temperatures in the mid-70s. I had planned to visit Nickerson State Park. It would have been a simple day. My Fuji FinePix digital camera, some sort of fast food for lunch which I’d have eaten in the car, and maybe a magazine to read while I sat in the quiet companionship of nature.
Staring out of the living room window at that beautiful late summer day in front of me and contrasting it with the scene of utter horror on the television left me feeling both detached and attached to the situation at the same time. I hoped I would have another day like the one I was meant to have on 9/11 before the towers fell.
By late afternoon it appeared as though the attacks were over. It was an attempt to try to figure out the scope of the damage and also who did it and why. I had skipped lunch but didn’t feel hungry. I still felt the need to venture out to make certain that my world close by was still standing.
The most surreal thing for me was driving around the town of Dennis. Everything in my little corner of the world looked the same, yet I knew everything was different. All of the houses were standing, all of the businesses were open, and there were some cars on the road. It was quieter than expected. Now things do slow down on Cape Cod when Labor Day passes, but I knew that people were glued to their televisions like I had been all day.
I remember feeling so small and insignificant. There was an overwhelming sense of pride, respect, and love for the firefighters and police who were walking into the battle zone when everyone else was running away. I wondered what it took to have that much courage. Perhaps when the situation arises, you just turn off the fear in your brain in the name of duty?
I stepped out for maybe a half-hour in the afternoon. I believe I went to a Subway to get dinner. I don’t remember any conversations I might have had with the people working there, although I am sure we spoke of the tragedy that was unfolding as we stood there.
Once back home, it was a return to sitting frozen still on the couch. I don’t think I left that spot for fourteen hours in total. I was just watching. I was trying to process something that couldn’t be processed. Part of me foolishly still hoped that there would be a disclaimer on the screen that said it was all a hoax. It would be like War of the Worlds on the radio; even as night fell, I clung to that belief.
I remember the next morning being back to business as usual. I returned to work cooking at The Marshside restaurant. It was a slower day since the busy season had ended. Still, I tried to occupy myself with as many tasks as I could.
At some point I found myself standing on the deck with Maui. He was the head chef, and I had known him for 8 years at that point. I remember still having that feeling of falling as we spoke. I don’t know how else to explain it. It was like my body’s empathy for the enormous loss.
The deep blue sky was untouched by the gentle exhaust of aircraft as all air travel was still suspended. I also remember the silence. It felt like there was an overwhelming and deafening silence that surrounded those days. It was as if all of us were quietly trying to wrap our heads around what this all meant.
I remember the names coming out over the next few days. I remember the photos, the interviews, the magazines, the newspapers; I still have them, so I will always remember. There is a box in my mother’s basement that is filled with these things I gathered over the coming weeks.
It became even more real when attending a candlelight vigil a week or so later. It was held in the parking lot of the Patriot Square shopping center in Dennis. I don’t remember how many people were there; it was probably a few hundred. We all needed to be around each other to collectively process and grieve, even though most of us didn’t know each other.
I remember there being a few people there who had come from Ground Zero and had helped in the massive recovery effort. Their words painted the picture of the scale of the devastation. I shook their hands, thanked them for their efforts, and said they were heroes for what they had done. Shaking their hands made me feel a direct connection to New York and Ground Zero.
I remember each anniversary of the day that changed our world. Over the years, many harrowing accounts of survival came out. There were stories of people having near misses. There were more magazines, books, and even movies about the events of 9/11. Amazingly, there were fleeting moments in some of the movies where I felt myself asking if it was all real.
In the 25 years since 9/11, I have never been to Manhattan. I have never been to One World Trade Center, which was opened in 2014 and stands an appropriate 1,776 feet tall. I have never been to the 9/11 Memorial, although many Cape Cod police and fire departments display pieces of debris from the Twin Towers.
As I write this, with the memories of that day filling my head, it’s hard to believe that it has been 25 years now. It's hard to believe some people have grown up not knowing about 9/11. If you're under 25, this event probably hits you like World War II did for my generation.
Please take a moment to remember. Even if you knew nobody involved, or have never even been to New York, just stop and remember for a moment.
Remember 9/11. Remember those who died in the attacks. Remember those who bravely fought on the hijacked planes. Remember those who ran toward the disaster knowing they might not make it out. Remember the families who lost fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, spouses, and children.
We are all part of one family, the human family; above all else, always remember that. Peace and love.
Remember 9/11. Remember those who died in the attacks. Remember those who bravely fought on the hijacked planes. Remember those who ran toward the disaster knowing they might not make it out. Remember the families who lost fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, spouses, and children.
We are all part of one family, the human family; above all else, always remember that. Peace and love.
