A September 11 Narrative

For my friend Alec, September 11, 2001, was a stressful and perplexing day. As soon as he woke up, Alec’s day wasn’t a typical day; he decided to stay home from school because he felt ill. One thing he mentioned he remembers vividly, is putting on the television and thinking it was broken, because “I saw the same movie about broken towers with smoke coming off of them on every channel.” Alec’s mother came into the room and brought him outside. Both of them walked to his father’s medical office. They saw the smoke, the people covered in ash, the anguish and tears on faces, the blood of people they didn’t know. At the time, Alec and his family were living in Soho; they were¬† close enough to ground zero to see the extent of the disaster first-handedly. Not understand what was going on, Alec asked his mother if they could go home. When they got back, his mother invited her friend and her friend’s daughter over to stay the night. Alec mentioned, “It was consoling when they came over spent the night.” Now, nine years later, after moving away to Connecticut, Alec has returned to the city of the disaster.

Even though his memory from September 11th was very dissimilar from my own, I found it easy to relate to. When Alec said he didn’t connect to the image of the towers on the television, it reminded me of how I had felt distant from the event; it didn’t feel that significant. The difference is that he was right in the middle of the danger. When Alec was asked to be interviewed, he said he was excited to try to recall the memory. It was such a significant day and he wanted to see how much he could actually remember.

memory from 9-11

When I first heard of the attacks on the towers, I was sitting in my fourth grade class doing work. We heard over the intercom that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center, but aside from this, nothing else was said. My teacher shut the lights off and told the class we were to have a moment of silence. From there, I cannot recall if we had to hide under our desks, or if we were dismissed from school early.

A strong memory from that day is when I arrived home; I remember walking into the family room of my house and seeing what was on the television, and then seeing my parents. On the T.V. was a video of the two towers in a blanket of smoke, debris and dust everywhere. My parents faces were dried with tears and very somber.

As far as the significance of the day for me, I felt like it hadn’t truly happened, or that I was so distant from the situation that it didn’t even matter. My daily routine, apart from the event at school, and me coming home and seeing my parents, was not very different from any other day.