My Story/Your Story/Our Story of 9/11

9/11 image with statue of libertyThe tenth anniversary of 9/11 has come and gone.

It is one of those shared moments that each of us remembers differently. I was putting on my running shoes. The television happened to be on.  I  called my friend and told her a plane had just hit the World Trade Center. She started to ask where we were going meet for usual 45 minutes of exercise. “Turn on your television,” I told her and for the next 45 minutes we watched together, talking on the phone the whole time. We caught the moment when the second plane hit.

My husband had gone to Boston on business the Monday before. He wasn’t schedule to return until Friday. All week he kept thinking they’d get the planes flying by Friday. Saturday morning he started driving and was glad he had a car–any way to get home. Took him two days. When he went to turn in the car in Boulder, Colorado, the place was a mess, cars being turned in from everywhere, more than the local car rental place could park in their parking lot. Confusion. Frustration.

My husband and I remember 9/11 as an inconvenience–an ongoing inconvenience every time we fly. There are worse stories. There are families who lost loved ones that day and families that continue to lose loved ones to the wars and aftermath of the clean-up.

Events that everyone remembers are anchors in time. I’m old enough to remember the Kennedy assassination, the events of 1968, and watching the first man to walk on the moon. What are the anchor events in your life and that of your family? Are they written down?



Filed under Event, Family Stories, History, Memories, National Story, Story pegs

2 responses to “My Story/Your Story/Our Story of 9/11

  1. Victoria Reno Nelson

    I was born June 11, 1935. I am old enough to remember the end of the Depression, FDR and many of his programs, Idaho and the poverty and hard times that occurred during the Depression.

    Our family moved to San Pedro, California to be near my brother John, who was scheduled to be drafted or enter the Merchant Marines. We moved into an apartment not far from Pt Fermin and Ft. MacArthur, a US Army base, and were living there when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. There was fear of further bombings in Los Angeles Harbor. A Japanese man living in our apartment building who had a short wave radio, was arrested and taken away.

    I experienced the air raids, black-outs, and family members either entering into the military, or working in the shipyards or other sites for the war effort. I entered first grade at 15th St. School in San Pedro. There were 65 pupils in our first grade class and one teacher. we sat two to a desk. Male teachers were drafted. Those remaining were less educated. Some were the mothers of other children in our classes.

    Many across the US moved into the area. Looking back, they were the people pushed off their farms by the Dust Bowl and Depression who suffered hardship -those described in the Grapes of Wrath.

    Our family purchased a home in an area called Harbor Heights and moved away from San Pedro into the hills near Palos Verdes where it might be safer. While I was attending school in Lomita, CA, not far from Torrance, we often drove by an Interment camp on Pacific Coast Highway, where the government provided temporary housing for the Japanese who were later transferred to numerous other interment camps across the U.S.

    There was no movie rating in those days. A small child sat through the horrible newsreels showing Hitler, the killing of the Jews, and the Japanese Kamakazi pilots dive bombing into our ships. I had nightmares throughout the war. It had an impact on my childhood.

    9/11 brought back many of the horrors I experienced as a child during World War II. It brought with it the realization that attacks on our country were possible. You are right that this information will be lost if we don’t write about it. Thank you for causing me to think about this.

  2. Exactly what I was talking about. Such a great comment. I hadn’t thought about how 9/11 would echo for those who lived through the fear that the Japanese would attack our west coast. Fear has a way putting an edge on memory.

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