What I remember about 9/11
Everyone remembers where they were on that day
Jim LaJoie
The September 11 attacks against the United States happened 23 years ago. It doesn’t seem possible that so many years have gone by since that day, a day still fresh in my memory, like many Americans, I am sure.
The First Attacks
On September 11, 2001, I was living in a small Massachusetts town next door to my former in-laws (weird, I know, but I was probably closer to my ex’s parents than she was). I was refinancing my house and had to have some papers signed at a law office just a few blocks from the house. I was going in late to work that morning to take care of the refi. My appointment was at 9:00 am and I left the house about 8:50 knowing it was just a short walk to the law firm. As I was walking down the driveway my father-in-law excitedly called out for me to come to his house. I yelled out to him that I had an appointment, but he began motioning me furiously to come to the house. He was not an excitable guy, so his obvious agitated state at that moment told me something was off. I went into the house through the back door leading into the kitchen which was always left unlocked. I saw him sitting on his couch staring at the television, a not unfamiliar sight for the many years I knew him. I still had no idea what he wanted me for. I walked in, looked at the television and saw a plane, now in slow motion, crashing into a building. At that moment, I thought my father-in-law was watching a movie and got a bit aggravated he would call me over for this. Then he said, quietly, “they bombed one of the Twin Towers in New York.” I was a bit dumbfounded, who were “they”? Then I realized he was watching CNN and a reporter came on and started discussing the news that attackers had taken control of the plane and had piloted it into the north tower to the World Trade Center in New York at 8:46 am. I was stunned. Neither my father-in-law nor I said a single word, mesmerized by what we were watching, not knowing how to react. I completely lost track of time, being absolutely floored by what I was watching and hearing. A little after nine the second plane struck the south tower as my father-in-law and I watched. This time we just looked at each other, still not being able to verbalize what we were feeling. I had been standing this entire time without moving, frozen in shock.
The Third Attack
I finally realized I was late for my appointment and, quietly, told my father-in-law I would speak to him later. Usually a gregarious guy – he was a former car salesman, after all – all he could do was nod his head. The walk to the law firm was just a few minutes, it was a little after 9 am on a Tuesday, and there was an eerie quiet all the way to the office. When I arrived, I told the receptionist I had a 9 am appointment which I was aware I was late for. She nodded and very somberly told me to have a seat. A small tv was in the corner of the reception area and had CNN on. The same reporter I had seen a few minutes before at my father-in-law's was still reporting. This entire sequence of moments seemed like a dream or, at least, some altered reality. I was having a difficult time processing the news. As the closing attorney and I were in a small office close to the reception area, we heard a reporter excitedly announce that a third plane had struck, this time hitting the Pentagon. It was a little after 9:30. We both sat there, looking at each other, not knowing what to say. Both me and the attorney somehow made it through closing, neither of us speaking much more than a few words about what we had just witnessed. We just couldn’t. It was entirely weird. I mumbled thanks to the attorney and receptionist and got to my car, quickly turning on the radio to the news.
The Fourth Attack
I drove to work that day on a road that was ordinarily very busy, especially mid-morning. There were very few people on the road that morning. That, along with what I just saw on television, what I was hearing on the radio, made it obvious we were in the midst of a momentous time, likely a dangerous one. I knew instinctively that the world was now no longer going to be the same. You could feel it, as if in the air.
I got to the office at a little after 10 am when a colleague told me that a fourth plane went down in Pennsylvania after its passengers tried to stop the hijackers. I remember thinking at the moment “What the hell was happening? How many more attacks were there going to be? Who are these bastards doing this to our country?”
That day trying to slog through my work was tough, extremely tough. There were about two dozen people who I worked with in that office, usually a very chatty group. Not that day. Everyone was glued to the radio that someone had brought in and placed in the middle of the room. It all felt unreal.
The Aftermath
I love this country. This is a country where a working class kid like me could become a solid middle-class adult. It is also, however, a very divided country. Not that day, though, or even in the weeks ahead. I was never as proud to be an American, to feel part of a united people, than that afternoon driving home. My normal route home was a mix of small businesses and residences. To my surprise, and great pride, nearly every house and business had an American flag hanging outside. As I drove home, I saw American flags everywhere. It gave me goosebumps, literally. It made me proud to be an American, not that I wasn’t before, but never quite in this way. It also filled me with hope that we would be a more united people, a hope that would prove to be unfulfilled, unfortunately.
We all know the rest. President Bush, regardless of whether you voted for him or not, proved to be worthy of the moment. Rudy Giuliani was then someone to respect. In the following weeks we heard many stories of ordinary people showing great heroism: firefighters, police officers, EMTs, the passengers on the fourth plane, iron workers, regular people volunteering to pull bodies out of debris. It was a sad and scary time but also one that made you proud to be an American.
My Hope
On this day I still hold out hope, naively, that we as a people can once again be as united as we were on September 11, 2001, but this time without a national tragedy. I know that isn’t likely in my lifetime, but I want to believe - badly - that it can. I want to believe the united country we were on that fateful day – a day we saw each other as fellow Americans, not despised opposite camps – can be once again.
Rest in peace all who died that day. You will always be remembered and honored for your sacrifice.
About the author: Jim LaJoie was born and raised in Massachusetts, relocating to North Carolina about a decade ago. He has lived more decades than he cares to admit.
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