I was talking to my sister on the phone early on the morning of Sept. 11, 2001. She said a plane had crashed into the side of a building in New York City. I imagined a small tourist plane had accidentally hit one of the skyscrapers.
We hung up and I went to the newspaper office. Then managing editor Bob Haenel was watching the news on a small television in his office. I’d never seen that television on in all the time I’d been at the paper, but, that morning, he was watching the news unfold.
It wasn’t a small charter plane that hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center. It was a jetliner, filled with people and jet fuel. Smoke and flames were pouring out of the building, and, all of a sudden, another airplane hit the South Tower.
We all gasped.
Bob turned to us and said, “We’re at war.”
With utter calm, he told us to call the hospitals, the sheriff’s office, the school districts and the fire stations. See if anyone from here was in New York City and try to talk to them. At that time, we had no idea if other buildings around the country were going to be targeted.
We scrambled to the phones, making calls and getting information. After we’d add to the main story for the newspaper, we’d head back to Bob’s office to see what was happening. All air-borne planes in the United States were ordered to immediately land at the closest airport.
All but one plane had landed – United Airlines Flight 93. The people on the plane let their loved ones, and in turn the country, know that terrorists had taken over the plane.
The people on that plane knew they were a flying bomb. Planes had not only hit the World Trade Centers but the Pentagon as well and they were headed to Washington D.C. The passengers had a plan – take over the cockpit and land the plane safely.
Whether or not they breached the cockpit or the plane was shot down by the American military, ultimately United Flight 93 crashed in a field, killing everyone aboard.
As we neared time to run the presses, we weren’t sure if the day’s horrors were over.
Nobody knew if there were more attacks planned.
Nobody knew if our children and families were safe.
Nobody knew what was going to happen next.
All we could see were images of two giant buildings in New York City burning and then collapsing. People running away, covered in dust and debris. First responders, police officers and fire fighters risking their lives to save others.
Almost 3,000 people died senselessly on that day in New York City. Men and women had gotten up like any other day – showered, brushed their teeth, grabbed a bagel on the way into the office and were working at their desks when the unimaginable happened.
On my way home that afternoon, the roadways were eerily silent. Nobody was honking their horns. Nobody ran red lights. We were silently polite to each other, united in our grief, grateful our loved ones were safe.
Now 24 years later, we tell ourselves this type of evil can’t happen again, but zealots are capable of incomprehensible evil.
On the flip side, people are also capable of unbelievable good.
Today we give thanks for our lives and our freedom. We pray for those innocent souls who lost their lives on a sunny, cool fall day.
We pray for the brave men and women who rescued so many that day without hesitation. Some lost their lives. Some live with the memories of that nightmare day.
The rest of us continue to pray and we remember the words of Todd Beamer, a passenger on the ill-fated United Flight 93. These two words should remind us to step up for what’s right, even when we’re afraid.
“Let’s roll.”
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.