Terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, one of those rare days I can remember vividly
It was a typical Tuesday morning.
Weather was more summer than autumn. It was soccer season for my two kids. In baseball, the Cardinals had beaten the Brewers the previous night, 8-0. Mark McGwire had a home run. Rookie Albert Pujols had a couple of hits. Darryl Kile was the winning pitcher.
About 7:30 a.m., like every weekday, I dropped off my two kids at St. Augustine Catholic Grade School in Belleville. I’m sure we had another light argument about whether to listen to Radio Disney or The Point on the car radio. It was a morning ritual, like the pack of brown sugar cinnamon Pop Tarts for my breakfast in the car.
I drove 10 minutes to my office in west Belleville. I was 42 years old. Good job. Felt guilty when I was out of town the previous week and missed my kids’ soccer games.
I walked into my office in west Belleville. Another Tuesday, right? It was more quiet than normal. Before I reached my office door, co-worker Robin came into my office and told me they had just flown a plane into the World Trade Center. I didn’t comprehend immediately. I set my things on my desk and before I sat down, well, it clicked.
I went into the office kitchen and joined a few other co-workers watching TV news.
My immediate reaction: We are at war!
What is their next target?
The Gateway Arch?
Scott Air Force Base?
It seemed surreal; the news seemed like a movie.
I returned to my office, checked on family, and called my kids’ school several times. The on-hold message was that all students were safe, sound but school would be closing early today.
My oldest brother, Bill, lived on the East Coast. He was traveling a lot on business. At some point in the morning, I learned he was OK and at home, safe.
I followed the events of the day by watching the TV in the office kitchen and the Internet.
I had never seen so much smoke, black and white.
I had co-workers in the Philadelphia area on business. They were trying to get home safely after all flights were canceled. As the day progressed, they were able to get a rental car. Many of them packed in a rental car and drove home. That was the best news of the day
I’d recheck the Internet. What I remember most were the photos of men and women in business attire jumping from the World Trade Center buildings. It was spooky, haunting, sad. I thought to myself, “What would I do?”
The eerie sound of silence
I skipped lunch.
I left work early.
Stared at the sky.
Those “Falling Man” photos still bother me, 20 years later.
That evening, I remember standing in my backyard and looking at the sky and not seeing, or hearing, an airplane. The skies were eerily quiet. I wondered if we’d ever fly again. The sound of silence.
Six days later, Jack Buck addressed the Busch Stadium crowd. I’m glad he did. Baseball didn’t take my mind off what had happened. But it was a welcomed distraction. It was one of my most memorable moments at the old Busch Stadium.
I remember how 9/11 brought us together, as a nation. Together, we were angry, sad, confused, insecure.
‘An unedited video in my memory’
There are few days in my life that I remember vividly — who I was with, where I was, how I felt, the weather, the faces.
An unedited video in my memory.
My parents’ deaths.
My children’s births.
Mom teaching me to drive a car at Frank Holten State Park.
Dad pitching a corkball in the empty lot across from our East St. Louis home.
September 11, 2001, is one of those days.
