Eventually, curiosity got the better of me and I went to see what was on the television. It was, of course, the news footage of the Towers. I watched, horrified, until the entire story was clear, then hurried back to my dorm room to call my parents. I'm from northern New Jersey, and my dad regularly goes into New York City for work, and my brother was attending high school in Manhattan at the time. I was worried, and the fact that the phone lines were out of service due to the amount of calls inundating the lines didn't help.
I eventually got through to my folks. They were fine, as was my brother, although his school had kept all the students overnight, since the public transportation was shut down and the only way out of the city was to walk across one of the bridges. Via email I managed to find out that my friends and their families were all okay, although one of my high school classmates lost her father in the tragedy.
Of course, the media turned 9/11 into a hyped, sensational ratings-grabber, and I soon sickened of hearing about the day. But now, nearly ten years later, I'm glad we haven't forgotten the horrors of the day. I'm glad that Americans, who are so diverse and often at odds with one another, could unite and collectively mourn and grieve. I can't say I condone the political and military reactions to 9/11, but I'm still glad we haven't forgotten that life is precious, and stolen life is terrible.
Where were you when the Towers went down?