I'm not even going to try to write a heart-felt, "memorial" column. Instead, I'm taking the easy route and just jotting down a few thoughts as they come to me.
No Day for Tennis
Sept. 11, 2001 is certainly the "Where were you?" Moment of my generation. I remember most of that day very vividly, just two weeks into my freshman year at OBU.
I woke up in room 442 of Agee Residence center to the sound of my friend Kyle banging on my door like a mad man. Bleary-eyed, I rolled out of bed and open the door ready glare at him to express my annoyance that he had woken me up this early just so he could beg to copy my notes from class.
I only managed to grumble "WHAT?!?!" before he grabbed me and pulled me across the hall where we could watch his TV. "Somebody has attacked New York!" he said. He was pretty sure it was the Russians or maybe the Chinese (who knows why).
The first person I called was my buddy Luis in St. Louis. In retrospect, it's odd I didn't think to call my parents. Anyway, I woke him up and told him to find a TV, that someone had attacked New York. He, like I had just done, asked "Who?" He didn't think the Russians or Chinese a likely culprit.
I remember seeing the second plane hit the second tower. I couldn't believe it. It's one the only moments in my life I can honestly call surreal.
I remember seeing the first tower fall, and thinking how many thousands of lives must have been lost. It's beyond a miracle that after it was all said an done, only 2,974 souls lost their lives.
I quickly got dressed and only tore myself from the TV to go to class. My first of the day was intro tennis with Coach Tolin. He told us to get back to our rooms to watch TV, that this was no day for tennis. "No Day for Tennis," may never supplant "Day of Terror" in our minds as the label of Sept. 11, but it works in a way. Before I left, we saw the second tower fall on the TV in his office. I remember thinking it was just a replay of the first tower falling.
Dra. Litherland made us stay in class (I'll never forgive her for that, or a multitude of other things) and discuss terrorism... in Spanish. What were we supposed to say? "No me gusta terrorismo?"
Dr. Barbe cancelled speech so we could watch TV later in the day. I'll always remember that Sept. 11, 2001 was on a Tuesday because of my "TR" classes.
I'm not sure at what point I learned that the Pentagon had been attacked and that another flight had crashed in Pennsylvania, but I do remember thinking, "Holy **** they're organized!"
I can hear you! The rest of the world hears you!
I wasn't around to hear the rhetoric of Lincoln, nor was I alive to hear Churchill coin the phase "Iron Curtain." Likewise, I don't remember Reagan shouting "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!"
The closest thing to those immortal quotes that I heard came from a "bumbling" "hayseed" "hick of a president" as he responded to a wounded nation brought to its knees, desperately needing some smaller glimmer of hope.
If you read the transcript of what President George W. Bush tells the crowd of rescue and recovery workers (and I encourage you to do so), it's clear he started out reciting a planned speech. It was exactly the kind of canned sentimentality we didn't need (or want) to hear. We needed something genuine, no prepared, slick or political. It was only after someone interrupted him and yelled that they couldn't hear that he suddenly became real and gave one of the most inspiring and heartfelt speeches I have ever heard or can imagine. It was short, sweet and most of all, genuine. It didn't have fancy rhetoric and probably wouldn't have earned him an A in speech class. But it was, and is perfect.
The video is perhaps even more stirring.
USA! USA! USA!
I love New York but don't give a flip about DC
It's interesting and sad that we all associated the terror and tragedy of Sept. 11 with New York City (and rightly so) but fail to extend those feelings to Washington, D.C. and Pennsylvania where Flight 93 crashed.
While it certainly is true that many more people lost their lives in NY, I imagine the fear was just as palpable or worse in DC. There simply isn't a place full of more high profile targets than DC and "they" had just successfully flown a place into one of the most secure buildings on the planet, who knows what else was on tap?
Somewhat macabre side note: ever since Sept. 11, I've been on close to 100 flights and I'm always "amazed" that the terrorists were able to find the Pentagon from the air and successfully fly into it. I have a hard enough time trying to figure out of it that big brown thing is a field or a lake. This summer as I flew into DC, however, I saw just how big the Pentagon is. There's no mistaking it. Even from several miles out, it's clear THAT is the Pentagon. It's also clear that in order to crash into it, you really don't need that much skill.
Ground Zero
My appreciation for the gravity of Sept. 11 grew exponentially when in 2005 I stopped over in New York for a day on my way to Russia (coincidentally, this was the exact day we declared war on Iraq).
My travel companion and I made our way to Ground Zero and were awestruck from the moment we stepped onto street level from the subway station. It's impossible to describe how huge the mere footprint of these buildings was, let alone how tall they were.
A Day that will live in Infamy
On my way to work this morning, I heard a snippet of Rush Limbaugh's morning update.
His main point was that 60 years later, we still recall the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and how despicable it was. And yet only six years after Sept. 11, we are forgetting the fear and tragedy of that day of infamy. Moreover, we as a nation have seemed to lost all outrage and determination to bring those responsible to justice. I don't always agree with Mr. Limbaugh, but on this one I'm going to have to. We hide the graphic images of that day when they should be on display... lest we ever forget.
AP Style
I can't claim to be a world class journalist (heck half the time I'm not sure I can call myself a journalist or not), but I do have an excellent working knowledge of AP Style. Thus, it really bothers me that we as a journalism community have yet to settle on a style for that day six years ago. Sept. 11, is my choice, but it's continually seen in print at 9/11, 911, September the 11th or even spelled out Nine Eleven.
His Truth is Marching On
Today, in a special Tuesday Chapel, we took time out to remember Sept. 11, those who lost their lives and their families, as well as all our troops at home and abroad.
We sang, among other songs, the Battle Hymn of the Republic. The song usually brings tears to my eyes. Especially when it's sung very slowly. This recording was done on Sept. 14, the same day as Bush's speech.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword
His truth is marching on!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
His truth is marching on!
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