Where were you, ten years ago? When “it” happened? That’s one question.
The other question is: What do you most remember for that particular day and the days that followed? The short answer to the second question for me is: I remember the first moment of that second impact as though it were a wound from a knife- it’s that sharp a memory, ten years later. But the rest of that day is mostly a tangled, painful, dark blur. What I remember much more potently are all of the moments when light and hope began to break through. More on that later. First, the where. . .
On the morning of September 11, 2001 I was at the radio station and about to go on the air with my morning show, but found myself hovering in the on-air studio, stealing a peek at our small black and white TV set to watch what was a rather dramatic story out of New York City- a plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. And then in an instant, that second plane appeared out of nowhere and tore into the other tower – and suddenly we realized that what had seemed like a strange and awful accident was in fact a horrifying and terrifying attack. I’m glad News Director Dave McGrath and I were standing right next to each other to watch that second impact – or otherwise we might have each thought that we had somehow imagined the whole awful scene. But no, it was all too real – and completely horrifying, even on that tiny black and white screen.
Within a couple of minutes, it was time for the morning show, but for me and for my guest (local actor Len Maki) our conversation about the latest Lakeside Players production could not have felt more pointless. Somehow, we half-heartedly dragged ourselves through an abbreviated conversation, while Dave monitored our feed from Wisconsin Public Radio, expecting that they would be interrupting their own classical music programming either with their own coverage or to switch over to NPR. But no, the serene sound of some string quartet continued to play on, as though nothing had happened. Len and I knew that we couldn’t keep talking about his play when this gigantic disaster had just happened, which we had just announced to our listeners in our newscast – but what could we do until there was network coverage of the disaster to bring to our listeners? (If any of them were still with us at that point?) Dave then came up with the idea of holding a microphone up to our TV’s speaker and broadcasting whatever channel he was watching over our airwaves, figuring (correctly) that in a moment of such national calamity, no one was going to be complaining about the rules that we were bending/breaking. Fortunately, NPR began their own live coverage soon thereafter and we were able to hand over our listeners to their capable hands- at which point Dave and I could stop being members of the media and try to come to terms with our own shock and horror.
The rest of that day is largely a blur. I remember running home and setting the VCR to record much of CNN’s coverage. I remember fits and starts of my day at Carthage, including an email from President Campbell in which he eloquently recalled how Americans found a way forward in the wake of Pearl Harbor and that he hoped most of us would manage the same. In other words, he hoped that we would continue to meet with our students and in our classes as scheduled. So I went to my studio and awaited whatever students came for their lessons- but I have no recollection of teaching a single lesson that day. I might have but if I did, I have no memory of it at all.
I remember at some point receiving an email from Kathy- saying not much more than “I love you” and “I wish we could be together.” She and the other teachers at Schulte Elementary (as were most of the elementary teachers in the district) were trying to carry on as though it were a normal day, without telling any of the students about the attack – although as various parents began showing up to take their kids home well before the end of the year, it had to be harder and harder to pretend that it was business as usual. I suspect that in Kathy’s quarter century of teaching, this might have been the single longest, hardest day of them all.
As I said before, the day was and remains for me mostly a dark blur . . . but what I remember much more clearly are the moments in which hope and clarity began to assert themselves, beginning with that evening. . .
I remember the quiet, simple, moving service that Pastor Jeff led at Holy Communion that night …. and I was amazed at how many people found their way there on such short notice. I know Kate sang – Caritas, too – and I also remember improvising a quiet arrangement of “America the Beautiful” as a piano prelude, and thinking about its lyrics and music with a profound appreciation I’d never felt before.
I remember the morning show the next day – September 12th. Peggy Gregorski was scheduled to talk about the dedication of the new Kenosha Public Museum that following Saturday – and Peggy came on the air to say that the museum was not going to let hatred and violence have the final word. They were determined to move ahead with their plans- and it was inspiring and even thrilling to hear Peggy share that news so forcefully and eloquently.
I remember the evening (I’m not sure if it was Wednesday or Thursday evening) when we stopped by the Barrows home at Kate’s request. She had issued an invitation to the family of one of her very favorite students at Walden Middle School- who happened to be Muslim- to come over to their house for awhile. Understandably, these were very difficult and frightening days for peace-loving Muslims- and Kate thought that this lovely family might really appreciate being someplace where they were completely welcome and not alone. I don’t remember how long we were there together, but it was a precious, holy time.
I also remember the moment when life seemed to take a truly giant step towards normalcy. Thursday morning, when we turned on the Today Show, instead of seeing a grave-looking Matt Lauer and Katie Couric, we saw a Burger King commercial. It was the very first TV commercial we had seen since this nightmare had begun. Who would have thought that the sight of a Whopper and Fries could be so comforting?
Kathy and I will always remember Friday night, the 14th, which was our 10th wedding anniversary. We were already planning a big party for that night. . . and in a strange sort of way, this horrific attack made us all the more determined to go ahead with that party – to seize joy by gathering with family and friends to celebrate the power of love. And it turned out to be a most memorable night, with a houseful of company – lots of food – lots of music – and a circle of friends standing out in the street, with candles lit – as people did across the country. And along with many friends and family we also had with us a number of Snap On Tools employees who were taking Exploring Music with me at the time at Carthage as part of the ACE program. These particular employees lived out of state, and with the grounding of air travel, they were unable to return home as originally planned. . . so I invited them to join us for our party. Their presence with us helped us to appreciate how fortunate we were to be in the safety and warmth of our own home, with the people we love and how love us.
The next day, the brand new Kenosha Public Museum did indeed hold its dedication ceremony, with me as the emcee- with balloons everywhere and quiet determination on the face of every person there. . . including the children.
In the following days and weeks and months, I bought every magazine I could which covered these events- as though I needed to sort out what had happened on that day and why. I bought all kinds of books – and eventually the documentary videos as well. And when the highly-regarded motion picture United 93 was released into theaters, I saw it five times. Five times. I was like one of those millions of middle school aged girls who kept going back to see Titanic again and again, drawn back to the sorrow, yes, but also to the courageous determination and strength that lives at the heart of both of those astonishing stories.
Those were frightening days – in part because we had been struck by a ghastly blow that none of us had ever dreamt of- had never imagined in our wildest dreams or nightmares- and it made all of us painfully aware that there is always the very real possibility that other Unimaginable Awfulness might be lurking out there, waiting to befall us. But thank goodness that the story of 9-11 is also a story of courage and goodness and generosity and grace.
pictured above: some of the magazines and newspapers I bought in the wake of 9-11. . . which I still have, ten years later.