A Tuesday in 2001
I don’t know that I will ever forget Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001. I was a freshman at the University of Wisconsin - Madison and just settling into life as a college student. It was exhilarating and also a bit lonely; it wasn’t yet home, and part of me longed for the comfort and normalcy of home.
As the day unfolded, I would desperately need that comfort. I walked out of the elevator eager to get to Spanish, but as I passed the common room, I caught a glimpse of the television. I don’t know that what I saw on the screen fully registered. I do know how clearly many of my fellow Ogg residents wore trepidation on their faces. I read the ticker line and froze. How could it be? What should I do? And then I ran though the list of names - the list of loved ones who may have been, for even the faintest of reasons, in NYC. I also rushed off to class. I didn’t know what else to do.
My professor arrived late but largely unaware of what was happening - she noted how hard it was to traverse campus with so many groups of people, somber groups, yet impressively large groups. Instantly, the campus community was coming together. We spent some time filling each other in on what we knew, and then we all headed back bome. En route I contacted my mom. “Hey, Mom...uhm...Lainey, she wasn’t treveling this week, was she? She couldn’t be in New York, could she?” In the moments of silence before my mom responded, I knew. “She’s there, Am. She’s in New York. I have been talking to Maureen. She’s trying to reach Lainey.” I felt my heat skip a beat. My legs nearly went out from under me. I made my way back to my dorm and remember little else from the rest of the day other than the painful wait for news of Lainey’s safety and the combination of pride and devastation I felt each time images of or names of engine companies were given.
As the child of a firefighter and EMT, I know what heroism and selflessness looks like; I also know how it feels to fear for your parent’s safety as he puts himself second to any individual in need. Those firefighters and paramedics walked directly into danger and did their best to bring husbands, wives, and children back to their families though they wouldn’t make it home to their own. I will never forget what witnessing that felt like.
The days that followed 9-11 felt different, though much of those memories have faded with time. The day itself, though, remains forever etched in my mind. It was a defining moment in my life, a transformative experience - I became so much more socially aware, politically engaged, and appreciative of what and who I have in my life.
This past fall, while on maternity leave, I visited New York. As we walked through the memorial park, I made it a point to read every name. My heart broke. I held my sweet baby especially close as I read the phrase “unborn child” next to multiple names. Life is a precious gift, such a delicate, beautiful, precious gift. We truly never know what lies ahead. September 11, 2001 surely taught me that, and to hold tightly to those you love.
As the day unfolded, I would desperately need that comfort. I walked out of the elevator eager to get to Spanish, but as I passed the common room, I caught a glimpse of the television. I don’t know that what I saw on the screen fully registered. I do know how clearly many of my fellow Ogg residents wore trepidation on their faces. I read the ticker line and froze. How could it be? What should I do? And then I ran though the list of names - the list of loved ones who may have been, for even the faintest of reasons, in NYC. I also rushed off to class. I didn’t know what else to do.
My professor arrived late but largely unaware of what was happening - she noted how hard it was to traverse campus with so many groups of people, somber groups, yet impressively large groups. Instantly, the campus community was coming together. We spent some time filling each other in on what we knew, and then we all headed back bome. En route I contacted my mom. “Hey, Mom...uhm...Lainey, she wasn’t treveling this week, was she? She couldn’t be in New York, could she?” In the moments of silence before my mom responded, I knew. “She’s there, Am. She’s in New York. I have been talking to Maureen. She’s trying to reach Lainey.” I felt my heat skip a beat. My legs nearly went out from under me. I made my way back to my dorm and remember little else from the rest of the day other than the painful wait for news of Lainey’s safety and the combination of pride and devastation I felt each time images of or names of engine companies were given.
As the child of a firefighter and EMT, I know what heroism and selflessness looks like; I also know how it feels to fear for your parent’s safety as he puts himself second to any individual in need. Those firefighters and paramedics walked directly into danger and did their best to bring husbands, wives, and children back to their families though they wouldn’t make it home to their own. I will never forget what witnessing that felt like.
The days that followed 9-11 felt different, though much of those memories have faded with time. The day itself, though, remains forever etched in my mind. It was a defining moment in my life, a transformative experience - I became so much more socially aware, politically engaged, and appreciative of what and who I have in my life.
This past fall, while on maternity leave, I visited New York. As we walked through the memorial park, I made it a point to read every name. My heart broke. I held my sweet baby especially close as I read the phrase “unborn child” next to multiple names. Life is a precious gift, such a delicate, beautiful, precious gift. We truly never know what lies ahead. September 11, 2001 surely taught me that, and to hold tightly to those you love.
Comments
Post a Comment