9/11 and Aftermath, 2001-2002, by Ashley Wroten
From MemoryArchive
Who: Ashley Wroten What: 9/11 and its Aftermath When: 2001-2002 Where: San Antonio and New York City
September 11, 2001 was a significant date for all Americans. I am no different, as that day changed all of our lives. I was getting ready for high school when my mom told me to turn on the upstairs TV. As I saw WTC 1 burning, I could not believe my eyes. Through my distress, I continued to prepare for school, with the volume up high so I could keep up with the developing story. As I drove to school, I heard that WTC 2 was also hit, and raced to my first period class so I could see what was happening on the classroom TV and discuss it with my teacher and classmates. As we nervously gathered around the TV and got streaming video on the internet, we did not even try to carry on a normal class. We instinctively knew that this was a significant event in world history. Our teacher also knew that we would not be able to pay attention whatsoever. Later on that day we heard that an airliner had also crashed into the Pentagon. That is when the terrorist attacks hit home for me. I did not personally know anyone who died in the towers, but I did know that my dad, an airline pilot, was scheduled to fly into Washington D.C. I realized that the crashed flight could easily be his, and I went into clinical shock to put it mildly. With tears in my eyes, I walked up to my teacher and asked if I could go out into the hallway and make a phone call on my cell phone, even though that was technically against district policy. I remember that my whole body was shaking and I had a very difficult time trying to dial my dad’s cell phone number. The phone kept ringing and ringing, and I got his voice mail, not what I wanted to hear. Trying not to panic, I called my mom. She was doing a great job at staying calm, and told me not to worry, even though she had not heard anything from him either. It was not until after I got home from tennis practice that evening that I learned that my dad was safe and his flight had been cancelled. Though he would be stranded in the Pacific Northwest for the weeks to follow, I was eternally grateful that my dad was still alive.
As time passed and the nation united to fight the War on Terror, I remember watching the systematic annihilation of the terrorist network in Afghanistan on the news each day, finding solace in watching the war on TV.
In the spring of 2002, my Model United Nations team went to New York City to compete at the National High School Model United Nations Conference held in the real United Nations. During our visit, the two beams of light were turned on to light up the night sky where the World Trade Towers had stood, and there was a huge memorial for the victims and heroes of the event. Though I will never forget the beauty and solemnity of the memorial lights, it was another part of the trip which made the biggest impression on me. The group decided to visit Ground Zero. We trekked over from our hotel and joined the many other people who stood gazing into the hole in the ground and at the crucifix of two steel beams—the only part of the towers that remained. Then we walked around the block next to Ground Zero. The church on this small block had housed many people who had fled the burning towers, and had miraculously survived the fires and collapse of the buildings. The chain link fence that surrounded this block was completely covered in everything from peace crane chains from students in Japan, to tattered American flags, to memorials for those who had perished. It wrung my heart to see the support from people across the country and around the world, and to think about all those people who had not survived. My friends and teacher silently walked around the block, stopping to look at the thoughtful gifts and poems and letters from people of all ages.
Then I saw it. Hanging on the fence was the shirt of an airline captain (4 stripes) with a nameplate that read “Buck” (my father’s name). Next to the shirt was a card from the pilot’s family that simply said, “We will miss you” and was signed by his wife and children. As my eyes welled up with tears, I thought about the family that had lost their father. How easily that card could have been signed by my mother and myself, how easily that shirt could have belonged to my father. But this family was not so lucky and I cried and cried as I was filled with emotions. I grieved and prayed for the lost pilot and his family. I was enraged with the terrorists and their vile disregard for human life. I was thankful that we had a president who was not afraid to defend our nation. I had never cried so much before, and I have not since. But for the rest of that day, I walked around New York City with my friends in a haze; I was completely silent as cold tears streamed down my face continuously until I fell asleep that night.
