By Amanda C.

I wrote this in my diary in September, 2006 after seeing a TV special about 9/11. Years later I looked back on my story and decided that it would be best to share them with the world as my own memorial. I invite others to do the same before the memory grows too vague. Even though this was written only five years after the horrible events of September 11, 2001, I may have gotten some details wrong, and for that I apologize.

I invite anyone and everyone to share this with everyone you know and to write down your own memory of the day and share it as well. We should never forget what happened, and we owe it to ourselves, to history and to the future to keep these events in memory.

***

Saturday, September 9, 2006   My Half B-Day

I have just seen a special on 9/11 and feel compelled to tell you my version.

You may be relieved to know that I was not asleep (as Mic [my sister]) was.

To start, we were at the cabin enjoying summer. I was 11 years old, and Mic was 8....

I vaguely remember waking up in the morning. It was 8-ish, and I had wanted to sleep in.

The TV was on--that meant Grandma was up. There were no voices--that meant that Grandma was the only one up, unless Grandpa had already gotten up and left for whatever. Then I remembered--Dad had gotten a job with Northwest Airlines, and yesterday he and Mom had left so she could drop him off at the Detroit Airport. Mom should be back later today.

After laying in bed a few minutes I got up and went downstairs to sit on the couch in front of the TV. Grandma was asleep. I briefly considered turning it off, but decided against it. Instead, I went and got a game.

It was a card game about pipes and plumbing, of which I am still quite fond. I had come up with a solitaire version of it.

I got the game and played it in front of the new electric fire-place. I played for some time while watching what I believe was The 700 Club [correction: may have been Live with Regis and Kelly].

And then it happened. I vividly remember the breaking-news-thing appearing on the TV screen. Oh brother, I thought. Not again. At that time we lived in California, where "breaking news" meant someone was speeding to get away from police--not uncommon. It was a real nuisance.

But this was different.

To be continued.

---

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Back to my narrative:

The TV reporter looked frantic and confused. Actually, there were several, both men and women, as the TV kept flashing from the studio to the Twin Towers. A plane had just hit a World Trade Center building. The World Trade Center? I thought. What's that? I figured it was something pretty important, but to this day I still don't know exactly what people did there.

I remember hearing things like "We don't know whether this was an accident or intentional," and "The pilot was probably flying too low and hit the tower by mistake." I saw the huge pillar of black smoke rise from the tower as people evacuated. It was very different from anything I have seen before or since.

Things were just starting to calm down when a second disaster occurred. Still dazed, the reporters said that the other tower had now been hit too. Just like that. Now both towers had pillars of black smoke rising, only the second was smaller.

Now, it seems that by now it should be quite obvious that the crashes were intentional (come on, both Twin Towers hit by planes only within a few minutes of each other?) but the country was in such a state of shock that for a while, people honestly thought that it could have been just two very weird accidents.

Then came the stories. There were stories of unlikely heroism, like a man running for his life suddenly stopping to lift and carry a lady in a wheelchair to safety. There were stories of the children who were in school at the lower floors of the building and terrified that their parents wouldn't have survived to save them. I also learned of the horrible, horrible phone calls people received right before the attack. "I want you all to know that whatever happens to me, I love you all very, very much and I'm sad I can't hug you all good-bye..." Maybe those weren't the exact words, but they were close enough. America had changed for the good.

To be continued.

---

September 11, 2006   National Patriotism Day

...The nation had quite a big to-do with the tragedy 5 years ago--radio and TV specials, moments of silence, even a presidential address!

And now for the (hopeful) conclusion of my narrative:

I don't remember much more of the day, until that evening. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was time. But when Mom came back to the cabin that evening I felt a huge surge of relief. It was sad to think of all the kids whose parents hadn't come back home.

At the dinner table, we related stories. It told a basically (but much shorter) same story I'm telling now. Grandma had been asleep for quite a bit of it. Mic had just come downstairs to get breakfast. As for Mom and Dad (who wasn't there with us)...

Dad's story was the most exciting. You see, he had just gotten a job at Northwest Airlines and today was his first flight. He had been in the air when the hijacking occurred. The news had spread to their (Dad's and the other pilot's) cockpit, and Dad was sent back to find out what was wrong. When he did, he was so stunned that he never returned. Of course, the plane was grounded and Dad was stranded for several days somewhere.

He had called Mom ASAP. She was preparing to leave the hotel.

"Have you turned on the TV yet?"
"No. Why?"
"Turn it on."
"What channel? Why?"
"Any channel." Or something like that.

The next day there was still a big commotion. A 12-year-old boy said he was shocked that this could mean World War III. A baby that had been born on 9/11 was shown--now 5 years old--Agghhhh! Amazing tales of survival were told.

Thus ends my narrative.