THAT FATEFUL DAY: I don't have any dramatic stories about running from a building in flames or anything. My story of Sept. 11, 2001 echoes those of the vast majority of Americans.
I was on vacation with my family in Cherry Grove, S.C., a beach town on the quieter north end of South Carolina's Grand Strand (that's Myrtle Beach, if you're unaware). The Amazing Techie Girlfriend couldn't make this trip; she was working in Arlington, Va. -- approximately 1 mile from the Pentagon.
I awoke at a little after 9 a.m. on that fateful day. I staggered into the den of our vacation house and, out of force of habit, clicked on the TV. There, on every channel, was the World Trade Center on fire. It was difficult to tell what had happened, because news anchors were talking via phones with eyewitnesses. My sister came into the den a few minutes later, and I said, "Hey, check it out. A plane hit the World Trade Center." She looked at the screen and said, "MM...that says
planes hit World Trade Center.
Planes. More than one."
That's when the knot began to turn in my stomach.
A few minutes later, a news flash said the Pentagon had been hit.
The knot grew even tighter, because my girlfriend was way too near to that site. I immediately tried to call her, via office phone and cellphone, but had no luck getting through because the lines were overloaded. I wouldn't get through to her for another six hours.
When the first tower collapsed, my stepmother and her daughter began to sob uncontrollably. My stepsister's husband, a police officer, seemed deep in thought, perhaps realizing that his job would have required him to be in that building. My father, sister and I simply stared in disbelief. When the second tower fell, amid TV discussion that 200,000 people worked at the World Trade Center complex, I knew that this would be the most horrific event in our history. It was certainly the most terrible thing I'd ever seen. We all thought that there were 50,000 bodies buried under that rubble, and perhaps 1,000 more at the Pentagon.
We continued to stare at the TV in shock for a couple more hours, and I kept trying to call my girlfriend. Couldn't get through. My sister, who lives about 35 miles from Cherry Grove, suggested I take a ride out to her house to help her feed her dogs. I went, because she has a computer, and I would use it to try to e-mail my girlfriend.
The drive over was surreal. The weather that day on the South Carolina coast was not like the perfect morning we had seen get defiled along the upper East Coast. It was overcast and gray. But what was really bizarre was the radio. There were no commercials. There was no music. Every station had gone over to news coverage, either their own or one of the TV networks'. That's something I've never experienced in my lifetime, and hope I never experience again.
When we got to my sister's house, I continued to try to call the girlfriend. Still no success. I jumped on my sister's computer and sent out e-mails to my girlfriend's various accounts, and waited an hour for a reply. There was none. I tried to assure myself that she was safe, and that she was simply quite busy.
We drove back to Cherry Grove, and no one in the house had left their spots in front of the TV. I went straight to the phone, and finally reached my girlfriend. She was fine. She was very upset, and understandably so.
She saw the Pentagon explode.
She had co-workers who were on the freeway that runs next to the Pentagon when they saw the plane slam into the building. Flying debris had damaged a coworker's car.
I told her to be strong, and that I was coming back there tonight. She insisted that I stay with my family. (I stayed that day, but ended up cutting the vacation short because I was worried about her.)
After a couple more hours of TV watching, the family decided to go out to eat. We went to a cafeteria that specializes in the comfort food we'd known our whole lives -- fried chicken, turnip greens, macaroni & cheese, fried squash and okra, corn bread, iced tea and pecan pie. The place was full of diners, but very quiet. It was like a dinner party after a funeral.
It was 7 p.m. It was the first food I'd eaten all day, but it provided little comfort. The knot in my stomach wouldn't go away for several days.
It's back again today.
But it won't be for long. We have rebuilt the Pentagon. We have defeated the Taliban. We have killed or arrested hundreds, maybe thousands, of potential terrorists. We're stronger and more united than I can remember in my 36 years.
We will triumph. It won't be easy, but we will.
God bless America.