If anyone would like to share, feel welcome to do so here. Please, do not make this about politics, the ensuing war, etc. This is meant to commemorate and honor in an expression of unity, not to be divisive.
Personally, I was 10 years old living in Queens. It was a beautiful, sunny day. I was looking forward to watching the Yankee game against the White Sox that night. I was in school, my classroom was on the third floor and we could hear sirens across the water all morning. Our teachers were keeping us away from the windows, but kept looking out. The skies had turned an ugly grey, no longer the sunshine we'd started with. We went upstairs to the fourth floor for class, but we were immediately sent back down to our 3rd floor homeroom. Because I went to Catholic school our priest came classroom-to-classroom, one-by-one to tell us what had happened and that we'd be kept here until our parents came to get us.
Both my parents were home that day, my mom because it was her day off and my dad because he was recently disabled. My dad picked me up and whisked me home abruptly. I walked in to find my mom on our apartment floor hysterical crying. I'll never forget her saying "I watched them get built" through her tears as she hugged me. Behind her, along the windows lining the streets, were three of my father's rifles - loaded (something he never did). Eventually I realized he had a rifle by every window in the house, as did our neighbors with firearms. Nobody knew what might be coming yet, including firefights in the streets.
What really stays with me, though, is the smell and sounds. For weeks we'd smell burnt flesh whenever the wind blew northeast towards us from downtown Manhattan. Weeks. And the F-16s running sorties low over the city, they were so loud and so present. You knew they were keeping us safe, but they were also a reminder. Seeing firemen cry was just awful, as were the recordings of people dying we'd gotten from a close friend with NYPD.
A terrible day, one I will truly never forget. I hope all will take a moment of silence and pray for those who suffered and continue to suffer today.
Personally, I was 10 years old living in Queens. It was a beautiful, sunny day. I was looking forward to watching the Yankee game against the White Sox that night. I was in school, my classroom was on the third floor and we could hear sirens across the water all morning. Our teachers were keeping us away from the windows, but kept looking out. The skies had turned an ugly grey, no longer the sunshine we'd started with. We went upstairs to the fourth floor for class, but we were immediately sent back down to our 3rd floor homeroom. Because I went to Catholic school our priest came classroom-to-classroom, one-by-one to tell us what had happened and that we'd be kept here until our parents came to get us.
Both my parents were home that day, my mom because it was her day off and my dad because he was recently disabled. My dad picked me up and whisked me home abruptly. I walked in to find my mom on our apartment floor hysterical crying. I'll never forget her saying "I watched them get built" through her tears as she hugged me. Behind her, along the windows lining the streets, were three of my father's rifles - loaded (something he never did). Eventually I realized he had a rifle by every window in the house, as did our neighbors with firearms. Nobody knew what might be coming yet, including firefights in the streets.
What really stays with me, though, is the smell and sounds. For weeks we'd smell burnt flesh whenever the wind blew northeast towards us from downtown Manhattan. Weeks. And the F-16s running sorties low over the city, they were so loud and so present. You knew they were keeping us safe, but they were also a reminder. Seeing firemen cry was just awful, as were the recordings of people dying we'd gotten from a close friend with NYPD.
A terrible day, one I will truly never forget. I hope all will take a moment of silence and pray for those who suffered and continue to suffer today.
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