On what seemed like a typical September morning in 2001, Americans in every city were preparing for the day ahead.
Parents sat at traffic-jammed schools while their half-asleep children reluctantly returned from summer break. Men and women in business attire grabbed their morning coffee before heading to the office. Some of us were running late for whatever plans we had, and others were comfortable within the walls of their homes.
On that same Tuesday morning, I was home in Torrance, Calif. nervously preparing for my first day as an eighth grader. With a three-hour time difference, I awoke admidst the tragedy.
As I dragged myself out of bed at 6:45 a.m. (California time) and into the kitchen for breakfast, American Airlines flight 77 had literally just slammed into the Pentagon. Had I been awake sooner, I would have witnessed the terror that had been unleashed just an hour before.
The footage of our fallen towers seemed to play out in stages for weeks. Stage one ”” the first plane hit the north tower. Stage two arrived 18 minutes later ”” the south tower was hit. It became too unbearable to watch as the towers fell out of sight in the New York skyline.
Newscasts repeatedly showed us this step-by-step process in which terrorism attempted to kill our spirit, and dismally took the lives of our family and friends on its way.
Eleven years later, we can still see and hear and smell the awful familiarity of that day. It may take some reminding, but the memories are not so far away.
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“I was 14 when the towers fell. I walked into my living room and saw my stepfather standing in front of the TV. “The towers are falling,” he said. I looked at the TV screen and thought a movie was playing; it didn’t seem real. We watched the news all day in class. I remember feeling that I should take in that moment as much as I could because I was watching a historical moment. ”
”” Rogue Morales
News Editor
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“Iremember my dad waking me up in the morning to see it on TV. Everyone was talking about it on the bus. It was fifth grade, and my teacher had to try to explain what was happening to us. I do not think we could fully comprehend it at that age.”
”” Dalton Runberg
Editor in Chief
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“I was in eighth grade when it happened, and I found out about it from my teacher at the start of my morning P.E. class. On the afternoon of Sept. 11, I rode my bike to several nearby newspaper stands until I found one that still had copies. Soon after, I subscribed to the local newspaper. I still have that day’s paper, and I have continued my subscription to this day. ”
”” Sergio Robles
Multimedia Director
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“I was nine years old and in fifth grade. I did not see anything about it on TV that morning. It wasn’t until I was in class where my teacher explained what had happened, which caused another student to become violently hysterical.”
”” Jeffery Smith
Science & Culture Editor
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“I was 16 years old on 9/11. My family and I were visiting my grandfather on my mother’s side. As the attack on the World Trade Center commenced, I wasn’t aware of it because during that time I was still safe in bed. I awoke to find my family in the living room watching TV. In my sleepy haze, I didn’t immediately register what was happening on TV. It all felt surreal to me, and honestly, it still feels that way 11 years later.”
”” Cameron Woolsey
Features Editor
