They say you never forget where you were or what you were doing. Seeing as Kennedy was shot years before my parents met, I don't remember that. Strangely, I remember exactly where I was when I heard that the Gulf War had begun. More importantly, I remember where I was on 11 September, 2011.
I was a junior in college, 19 years old. I had a 9:25 class, but I liked to push it, squeezing every moment of sleep out that I could. As such, I was in bed. Suddenly I awoke to someone banging at my door. Jason, my roommate at the time, opened the door to find Mark, another resident of our dorm, distraught.
"A plane just crashed into one of the towers!" he shouted, having himself just awakened to learn of the news.
Jason and I looked at each other, thoroughly confused as to what was going on. What towers, the radio towers on the nearby mountain? How did this happen? Some kind of a guidance system error? An error in the plane itself? Could my now-local Boeing be responsible for what happened while I lived across the country?
Suddenly we heard several people shouting. A second plane. I began to hear talk of terrorism, a concept which previously had little meaning in our country. We'd seen a few car bombs, but otherwise nothing. It was a matter of children's television: COBRA - a ruthless terrorist organization bent on global domination - could only be stopped by G.I. Joe. But this - this was unlike anything I've ever seen before.
As the day unfolded, I learned of two more planes, one in an area of the Pentagon that was fortunately not currently being used, and the other in my home state of Pennsylvania, specifically in Somerset County. No one knew why or how, but we all knew what.
Being at a Christian university at the time made the whole thing that much more interesting. Thousands of people were called together to pray. Instead there seemed to be just a lot of focus on man: discussions (read "arguments") about the judgment of God; whether or not we needed to fear Muslims; whether we should go to war. Spirals of vanity that led us further from the focus on God that brought us all under one roof.
As the day continued, we still didn't get answers. Really, we just got more questions. But there hadn't been any more crashes and planes were grounded until further notice, so we all tried to go about my normal lives.
That night I went to a local show. I don't recall any of the other bands who played, but I know
Xavier Slade was there. I do believe it was at Percival's Island. Daniel had booked the show, so he was there, at the time still running Burning Bush singlehandedly.
Daniel had woken up and gotten dressed that morning before any of this occurred. He happened to put on his Squad Five-O Bombs over Broadway shirt (see photo below). As soon as I saw it, I got a feeling in my stomach. Suddenly I realized that we were all changed forever on that day. Normal life would never again be normal life.
Ten years ago we all realized that we are not invincible. I didn't know anyone who was directly involved, but many people died or were seriously injured, some of them while trying to help others avoid this fate.
Seven years later we got another reminder of our vulnerability: this time the towers that collapsed were the dual bars showing the housing market and the Dow Jones Industrial Average. It was just another reminder that ultimately our national and political and economic and militaristic savior will all fail. Ultimately, everything but Jesus will, though that's not what I'm talking about right now. All I'm talking about is what happened ten years ago, as I remember it ten years later. Because even today nothing is quite the same, all because of ten men, two planes, and two towers.
They say you never forget where you were or what you were doing. Seeing as Kennedy was shot years before my parents met, I don't remember that. Strangely, I remember exactly where I was when I heard that the Gulf War had begun. More importantly, I remember where I was on 11 September, 2011.
I was a junior in college, 19 years old. I had a 9:25 class, but I liked to push it, squeezing every moment of sleep out that I could. As such, I was in bed. Suddenly I awoke to someone banging at my door. Jason, my roommate at the time, opened the door to find Mark, another resident of our dorm, distraught.
"A plane just crashed into one of the towers!" he shouted, having himself just awakened to learn of the news.
Jason and I looked at each other, thoroughly confused as to what was going on. What towers, the radio towers on the nearby mountain? How did this happen? Some kind of a guidance system error? An error in the plane itself? Could my now-local Boeing be responsible for what happened while I lived across the country?
Suddenly we heard several people shouting. A second plane. I began to hear talk of terrorism, a concept which previously had little meaning in our country. We'd seen a few car bombs, but otherwise nothing. It was a matter of children's television: COBRA - a ruthless terrorist organization bent on global domination - could only be stopped by G.I. Joe. But this - this was unlike anything I've ever seen before.
As the day unfolded, I learned of two more planes, one in an area of the Pentagon that was fortunately not currently being used, and the other in my home state of Pennsylvania, specifically in Somerset County. No one knew why or how, but we all knew what.
Being at a Christian university at the time made the whole thing that much more interesting. Thousands of people were called together to pray. Instead there seemed to be just a lot of focus on man: discussions (read "arguments") about the judgment of God; whether or not we needed to fear Muslims; whether we should go to war. Spirals of vanity that led us further from the focus on God that brought us all under one roof.
As the day continued, we still didn't get answers. Really, we just got more questions. But there hadn't been any more crashes and planes were grounded until further notice, so we all tried to go about my normal lives.
That night I went to a local show. I don't recall any of the other bands who played, but I know
Xavier Slade was there. I do believe it was at Percival's Island. Daniel had booked the show, so he was there, at the time still running Burning Bush singlehandedly.
Daniel had woken up and gotten dressed that morning before any of this occurred. He happened to put on his Squad Five-O Bombs over Broadway shirt (see photo below). As soon as I saw it, I got a feeling in my stomach. Suddenly I realized that we were all changed forever on that day. Normal life would never again be normal life.
Ten years ago we all realized that we are not invincible. I didn't know anyone who was directly involved, but many people died or were seriously injured, some of them while trying to help others avoid this fate.
Seven years later we got another reminder of our vulnerability: this time the towers that collapsed were the dual bars showing the housing market and the Dow Jones Industrial Average. It was just another reminder that ultimately our national and political and economic and militaristic savior will all fail. Ultimately, everything but Jesus will, though that's not what I'm talking about right now. All I'm talking about is what happened ten years ago, as I remember it ten years later. Because even today nothing is quite the same, all because of ten men, two planes, and two towers.
9/11, Ten Years in Retrospect
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