Laid off, watching morning tv on my WebTv like I always did. It was a sunny Tuesday Morning in Cincinnati. It was a non-descript day, The tv was its usual bland self, until I heard them mention a plane crash. My fust thought was some wayward commuter jet and hoping that the other building’s occupants would be allowed to go home instead of breathing in toxic fumes all day. That lasted until I saw the other plane crash, and I knew it was no accident at all. It was strange-I was old enough to sort of remember Kennedy, but I had never watched people die in real time. Yes, there was Challenger, but I remember that I saw the video later, having taken space flight for granted. There was a time when broadcasters would edit that part out, deeming it too painful or graphic. But this was too sudden, too quick for carefully placed graphics.
I lived then in an apartment that was in the usual path of jets going to the airport. After the attacks, I heard only one plane-at the time I thought it was a fighter jet of some kind-instead it was the plane that crashed into the Pentagon.
Sitting there, not really grasping the scale of it all. And grasping how absent Bush was at the time. Not a word, not a speech. Clinton would have said something as soon as he was safe. Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Reagan. Not this guy. No words, no action.I had remembered the mourning after Kennedy, this time it seemed rushed-3000 people had died, but instead of remembering them, there was this orgy of super patriotism that seemed so-well-more like anger than loss.
What was your 9/11 story and memory?