september 11, 2001 remembrance

For our parents, it was "Where were you when President Kennedy was shot?" For our grandparents, it was "Where were you when Pearl Harbor was bombed?" Every generation, unfortunately, gets the "where were you when" question, and for my generation it is "Where were you on September 11, 2001?" This Sunday marks the 10th anniversary of that day, a day that doesn't require a name other than "September 11th" for everyone to know to what you refer. I'll be traveling on Sunday, so I won't get to sit in front of the television and watch the news anchors wax nostalgic. And I quite prefer it that way. See, I don't want to remember how they do, how they want me to remember it, how they tell me to remember it. Because I remember it just fine on my own. And because one day I may not, and Britton may want to know, I want to tell it how it was, for me, on September 11, 2001.

I was living in Richmond, Virginia. My best friend Jen Clark (or at least that was her name then, and for her privacy I'm not telling you her name now) and I lived on Park Avenue on the bottom floor of an old apartment building. I was not yet employed, having not impressed any future employers with my useless political science degree, but I had signed up for temp work and was set to work a computer convention on September 12th. So, for me, September 11th was my last day of unemployment. I got up at the same time as Jen in my effort to feel useful. The creepy repair guy was supposed to be at our apartment by 8:00 am to fix the screen on our screened-in porch. He was on time.

Me and Jen, 2001...



I was watching television when the news broke. The repair guy ventured in to see what was happening, or I told him to watch, I don't know. Minutes seemed liked hours. I truly could not comprehend what was happening. I called Jen and she had seen it too. I think they had a television at work, or were listening to the radio. Regardless, she was heading home. The repair guy and I sat on the little couch together, not talking.

When Jen got home the repair guy left, and Jen and I watched all the news coverage we could find. This was the age of dial-up internet - no twitter, no facebook, no myspace. If you wanted to know how your family or friends were doing, you called them. But because everyone was calling everyone else, the lines were jammed. I didn't even own a cellphone at the time. So Jen and I decided to walk Richmond. We grabbed my Canon Rebel camera and some black and white film (yes, film) and ventured out to see how everyone else was reacting. I remember that I was embarrassed to take pictures of people outright, so we lied and said we worked for the Virginia Tech newspaper. The lie didn't much matter, as no one minded us taking pictures. We took pictures of flags flying half-staff, people sitting on their cars listening to the radio and each other, groups gathering and lighting candles, strangers hugging.

We even captured something we had never seen before - the stock market was at 0.00.



It's the only picture that remains. The rest were destroyed when all my belongings were flooded in law school. You can see the water damage on the edges of this picture. I don't have pictures, but I have memories. And I remember being so moved by the people of Richmond, who gathered and sang and listened while we all tried to make sense of it. Jen and I have been in each other's weddings since, met new babies and seen new houses. As it always does, life has gone on. But we still remember, every year, how one day changed it all.