Where Were You When the Towers Fell?

Steve Halliday

When the first plane hit the World Trade Center I was on an American Airlines jet about 30 minutes from Chicago’s O’Hare airport. I had boarded the plane earlier that morning in Norfolk. Shortly after the plane hit the World Trade Center the pilot announced that we should “sit down, buckle up.” You could tell something was wrong but the pilot did not give any details. Upon landing the airport was a madhouse and I quickly saw the burning World Trade Center on the TV mounted in the waiting area. Not knowing what to do, but certain my flight connection to Oklahoma City was cancelled, I hustled to the car rental bus and used my Hertz upgrade status to get a rental car. I had a vivid image of just wanting to see the corn fields of Illinois. I then realized I was heading the wrong way on the interstate and was heading downtown rather than to the countryside. I managed to turn around and kept driving until I saw cornfields. I didn’t know how upset I was until I realized I had driven right into the first cornfield I saw.

I got out of the car and just sat for a long time. I heard on the car radio that some gas stations were gouging customers by raising the price of gas. Nonetheless I figured I should fill up and found a gas station. I saw the price was just what it should be. I thanked the man behind the counter for not raising prices. He started crying and said he would be happy to give the gas away because he had just received a call from his son. He told me, “My son was on the 70th floor of the World Trade Center and he is fine.”

Later I learned that a law firm partner of mine was on another plane hijacked by the terrorists that crashed into the Pentagon. He, along with everyone else on board, died in the impact. I thought about being in the air when the terrorists struck and the unfortunate people whose planes were picked. The next day I drove the back roads to get home to Virginia and took my time all the while just appreciating the blessings that we have even when tragedy is all around.

Steve Halliday is the President and CEO of BN Media

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Katie King

September 11, 2001. I was a sophomore in high school in Kentucky. I remember it was a Tuesday because my high school did a special ‘club day’ the second Tuesday of each month. We basically got to skip class and go to our ‘clubs’ like FBLA, DECA, etc. It was usually a relaxed day. This particular day my morning routine was different because my boyfriend at the time was picking me up for school. Such a big deal when you are 15 ☺ On the way to school we got in a car accident; nothing major, but enough to make us late. Since it was club day everyone was still in homeroom when I finally got to school, as opposed to their first class, so I stormed in wanting to tell my friends what had happened. But when I came in everyone was watching TV. The first plane had hit. Everyone was explaining to me what was going on, but I wasn’t getting it. I had my own story to tell about my car wreck, which seemed so important at the time. I kept saying, "How would a plane get so close and accidentally crash into the World Trade Center?" Shortly after the second plane hit, and I began to realize that this wasn’t an accident.

The whole day was kind of a blur. None of the teachers really taught class, we just watched TV. I mean, what’s the point of teaching history when it was happening right in front of our eyes? That is all I really remember. I think I was still too immature to really understand what was happening, and how it was going to affect me one day.

Fast forward a couple of years. My brother is in college at Virginia Tech and gets recruited by the US Navy to be a Nuclear Chemical Engineer. He got commissioned in 2005 as an officer and proceeded to do 3 deployments in his 5 years of sea duty. Last fall, he transferred to San Diego for a 2-year shore tour, where we thought the deployments were over. Until we found out that he had been selected for a different kind of deployment. One where he would be supporting the Army in the war overseas. One that would require him to go to Afghanistan. On the ground. For 260 days. He left Friday, June 25, 2011. He will be there when the 10 year anniversary of 9/11 comes and goes. Before he left he called me to say goodbye and I thought, there are so many people that have had to do this over the last 10 years. Say goodbye, be careful, see you in 9 months. Mothers. Fathers. Sisters. Brothers. Wives. Husbands. Children. And it all started on that fateful day in September almost 10 years ago. I pray that September 11, 2011 brings with it a sense of patriotism and unity, like 9/11/01 did. I pray that all those who were affected that day, and since, continue to find peace, healing, and understanding as time goes on.

Katie King is Director of Special Projects

Ash Greyson

It was 6am PST when a tap came on my bedroom door. “You have to see this. Something’s happening. An airplane has hit the World Trade Center.” I was staying in the Hollywood hills working on a video project with the band Hanson. We all stumbled into the living room from the far corners of the house and watched America change forever before our eyes.

I’d been in L.A. only a couple weeks since my mother had passed away so the loss of life hit especially close to home. In the coming days, many hoisted flags, vowed revenge and pledged service, but all I could think about were the families of those lost. My mother lived 18 years after I was told she had six months to live. These families lost loved ones with no warning. Ten years later I still miss my mom but the scars of her loss are covered with wonderful memories that are now my focus. America has done the same: we are scarred but that scar is covered in a bandage of hope and a memory of heroes.

Ash Greyson is the Managing Editor of Beliefnet.com

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Jennifer Jones

I was working just outside of Washington D.C. when my co-worker got a phone call that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Like everyone else, I thought it was an accident. When word began to spread of a second plane, we all gathered around a television in the breakroom where the Today Show was airing the footage again and again in disbelief. On my way back to my desk, I saw co-workers looking out the windows, pointing and gasping. Off in the horizon, there was a huge mushroom cloud of smoke. The Pentagon had been hit and we could see the aftermath. Rumors were flying that there were bombs at the State Department and other planes on the way. People were being told to flee the city and you could see traffic jammed going north on Wisconsin Avenue for hours. Another co-worker received a panicked voicemail from her roommate who worked on Capitol Hill saying to stay out of DC and that it was utter chaos. We were all trying to call family members to make sure everyone was safe but the lines were busy and overloaded. A haze stayed over the Virginia horizon for another couple of weeks. Even though we didn’t know what was going on, we knew things would never be the same.

Jennifer Jones is the Inspiration Editor for Beliefnet.com

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Stephen Russ

I remember that the first plane hit during my senior high school English class. My mind was on all manner of high school things at the time – cars, what CDs I was going to buy that day, and pimples. It stayed that way until the second plane hit and we were made aware via the intercom that something was happening. I recall that the television in the band room was one of the few that actually connected to a news network. There must have been fifty of us gathered around it. Watching the repeating footage and hearing all of the misinformation was completely surreal. Some prayed, some called their parents, some even pretended not to care, but I only remember being in a complete daze. That daze lasted for a long, long time. Like many Americans, nothing in my life had prepared me for that moment, and nothing prepared me for how much things would change.

Stephen Russ is the Music Editor for Beliefnet.com

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Ashley McDaniel

I remember 9/11 down to what I was wearing and the chocolate milk I had just purchased from the college cafeteria. It was two weeks into the college semester, and my first time in the student union. I walked in and joined a large crowd gathered in front of the TV. No one spoke or moved. I then saw the second plane hitting the World Trade Center. As soon as this happened, everyone began to panic and call loved ones. My North Carolina hometown is very rural and removed from the rest of the world. No one knew what was going on, or what would happen next. Directly after the attacks I had to go to a math test, but I couldn’t concentrate. I remember looking out the window at rows and rows of corn fields and feeling very powerless.

Ashley McDaniel is a Web Content Producer for Beliefnet.com

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Evan Derrick

When I was young, I remember the adults in my family talking about the day JFK was assassinated. My mother was only 12 at the time, but she, along with everyone else, claimed they could remember exactly what they were doing the moment they heard the news, no matter how mundane the memory. Sitting in math class at school, doing housework, shopping for groceries – it didn’t matter. They remembered the moment with crystal clarity.

My roommate in college woke me up and uttered four simple words. Just four. “There’s been an attack.” I climbed out of bed, half-awake, and stumbled to the ratty couch I had picked up for 30 bucks at a thrift store. Such a plain, banal, unmemorable memory. But when I saw the footage it was as if a red-hot poker was thrust into my mind, searing the experience there forever. Of course, I now know my mom was telling the truth about JFK.

The mantra “Never Forget” has always seemed silly to me, as if there was a chance I, or any of us for that matter, could somehow forget about what happened. No, we can’t. We’ll never forget, whether we want to or not. There’s tragedy there, in that a handful of men were able to abuse us, irrevocably altering our hopes and dreams and beliefs and fears and memories. But there’s beauty, too. We, the United States of America, shared an experience that bound us together. No matter who we were, whether white or black, male or female, young or old; no matter where we were, at school, in the car, at work, at home; and no matter what we were doing, no matter how mundane it was, we stopped. And we watched. And we remembered. Together.

Evan Derrick is the Entertainment Editor for Beliefnet.com

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Corine Gatti

I remember getting ready for a college class when my grandmother screamed out from the living room, "Corine, we're under attack!"

I’m thinking: "No way, not us, right?" I mean this only happens in those ‘other countries’, not America!

I rushed in, and grandma just stood there and pointed to the television screen with a blank stare. She had never experienced this in her lifetime on our own soil. She's seen war footage on the news or black and white news reels from WWII played before the feature movie. This was not the Middle East-this is our home. Suddenly, as the reporter was trying to gather their words, we witnessed the second plane entering the North Tower of the World Trade Center on the side of the screen.

I purposely left the house in a black sweater and black pants to show my mourning. It was all I could do. I remember still going to the college in a daze. I passed a Muslim girl on the way to the library with her Hijab on, and she took it off right away, like I was judging her or blaming her for the cause of the tragedy. There is a numbing that takes place, shock after experiencing such a heinous act. I left school to pray with my whole care group who met at the sanctuary that afternoon, humbled.

Another thing struck me after that day: everyone was kinder to one another. People were opening doors, allowing cars to merge into their lanes, and went genuinely out of the way to help each other. Sadly, all of us fell under the spell of the id again. No, we will never be the same as a nation, nor those who watched the event unfold before their eyes on television or those who were directly impacted by 9/11.

Corine Gatti is Middle East News Editor for Beliefnet.com

Jamie Flora

I was attending high school in Virginia Beach, VA, where I was starting my senior year. I had just sat down to eat my lunch in the cafeteria, when my friend shared the horrible news: a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I was in total disbelief and pretty much brushed it off because my friend was usually joking around to see who might be gullible enough to believe him. Of course, I should have known that he would not joke about something this tragic. Then I realized that everyone in the cafeteria was talking about it. We all had so many questions about how this could have happened and what was going on. After lunch, in my study hall, everyone gathered around the television and watched the news. By this time, the other plane had crashed into the World Trade Center as well as the plane that crashed into the Pentagon. I couldn’t believe it! People were getting phone calls, going to the office, and leaving school. We were all concerned for the lives of family, friends, and everyone in those areas. It was so surreal, like something that would happen in a movie, but definitely not in reality. Everyone was so confused about what had happened and wanted to know what was going on, but all we could do was watch in disbelief as this tragedy and the beginning of its aftermath unfolded on the news. That was a day like no other that we had ever experienced. It was a day that we would forever remember: September 11, 2001.

Jamie Flora is a Video Editor for Beliefnet.com

Jana Melpolder

September 11th started out just like any other high-school day for me. I was chatting with my friends and trying to focus in French class when suddenly we got the news – the first Twin Tower was hit. It appeared to be a terrible accident to us at first. Our small class was shocked. Only later did we hear of the second tower being hit, and we knew at that point that this was a fully intended attack. Emotionally it was upsetting, but at that time I didn’t know anyone in New York so I didn’t have any personal connections. Honestly, it has taken me some time to realize the full impact September 11th had on our nation and on an international scale. Perhaps this was due to my age. Nonetheless, it continues to be a time in America’s history to reflect and share each other’s stories.

Jana Melpolder is the Love & Family Editor and Community Director for Beliefnet.com

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Rob Kerby

I was working on a deadline for a client and didn’t have a TV when I first heard the news. However, I was constantly on the internet and the news grew worse – a plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers, then another. The towers were ablaze. Firefighters were trying to put out the flames. Then, the terrible news that first one, then the other tower had collapsed. And that the Pentagon had been hit, too. Then, the reports from Pennsylvania – that passengers had averted an attack on the White House or Congress.

In the hours of shock that followed, I remember the incredible flood of concern from around the world. Photos came across from Red Square in Moscow, the Vatican, Amsterdam, Mexico City, Tokyo – of everyday people stunned by the news and gathering outside U.S. embassies and consulates, leaving flowers and cards of remembrance. In Berlin, a crowd sang the Star Spangled Banner.

When my kids got home from school, I remember showing them a photo of myself at age 23 standing atop one of the towers. It had been a Sunday morning in 1976. The son of the managing editor where I worked and I were traveling around the U.S. writing a series called the “Bicentennial Summer Tour.”

Now, it seemed impossible that the towers were gone.

To this day, I find myself looking away when an old TV show or movie shows them on the New York City skyline. It’s too painful a reminder of a terrible day when evil seemed to triumph.

Rob Kerby is Senior News Editor for Beliefnet.com

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