Reflections on 9/11

Someone this morning asked "Where were you when you heard the the planes hit the Trade Center Towers?" It's one of those questions that everyone can answer. On September 11, 2001 I was a student at BYU. Steve had an interview that day for a job with KPMG--a large financial firm. He wanted to make a good impression so I let him take my car and I took the bus (that was the only day I took the bus during my entire school career). The bus driver embarrassed me when I got on the bus. He made a very crude remark to the men on the bus because there were no seats and I was standing. I slithered into my seat and tried to sink into the upholstery. After I regained my composure I started eavesdropping on the conversations around me. The bus was buzzing with rumors that a plane had run into a building in New York.

I got off the bus at Provo High School and walked up the hill to the Tanner building when I boarded the elevator and rode up to the 4th floor. When the door of the elevator opened it was almost impossible to get off. The entire lobby was packed with horrified silent students with eyes glued to one small television mounted on the wall. I finally broke away and rushed to class. It felt odd to be conducting business-as-usual. It was evident that my professor hadn't heard the news.

By the end of class BYU canceled classes and closed the University for the day. I couldn't get home because John was picking me up at 2 and I could get in touch with him. After I got home I spent the rest of the day glued to television--along with every other American--with every story the horror, sorrow, devastation grew.

On March 11, 2002 John and I traveled to New York to attend a Telrad Convention. The city had position 2 enormous floodlights where the buildings formerly stood. A tour guide told us to view the light from the Staten Island ferry, so we did. The image was powerful; as I stood on the deck in the freezing wind I couldn't take my eyes off the haunting image. The next night as I rode the train back to Long Island I noticed two off duty firemen in the row across from me. I don't remember thinking too much about it but I found tears running down my cheeks--I cried all the way to Syosset Station.

I've heard hundreds of stories about the people affected by the events of 9/11--some tragic, some heroic, some inspiring, most just sad and moving. But through it all I feel . . . I don't know--sad, proud, conflicted. When tragedy strikes heroes emerge. To the heroes of 9/11 and to heroes large and small everywhere--thank you.