I’d be interested to see that documentary (and it would be the first and only documentary of 9/11 that I would watch)

In 2001, I worked in Flight Operations for N- Airlines, and that was a huge scramble mission. We were frantically trying to make contact with every single airplane, on the ground or in the air, to figure out a.) were any of our planes involved, and b.) could we keep everyone safe. c.) how to get everyone onto the ground asap. International flight were turned around or diverted, depending on location and fuel supplies. All of this was done in a haze of unreality, with one eye on the tv monitors, hoping against hope that it was some sort of sick, twisted farce (al la War of the Worlds) The hours and days that followed, as we figured out where our planes and crew ended up, and then kept trying to figure out how to “restart” the airline when the FAA finally gave the word (we had numerous false timetables, and each time we’d have to scrap everything and start over) My husband had orders to be on the first plane leaving for DC, and that simply added to the stress.

Every time I look at Adam’s picture, I have the same thought. The sky is so blue. It was that day, too. I never think of New York with a bright blue sky. Every time I’ve been there, it has either been grey and cloudy or hazy pollution. The bright blue sky was almost an obscenity that day, mocking the death and destruction and hatred and violence.

I wish that we could stop reliving those hours over and over ad nauseum. I don’t think that there is a person who witnessed that day that will ever forget the images…. I feel as if they were burned into my brain and my soul. What I would like to do is let it become part of our past, mourned, remembered, but finally allowed to rest in peace, undisturbed; the way it should be.

katie

Harold, was everybody faking antennas out of scrap wire that day? Ours was a VCR player with a wire coat hanger judiciously attached to the antenna terminals, placed in the corner of the building to get the best signal.

SeattleDan commented about the lone airplane in the sky. We live in a fairly busy flyover area, too. Depending on the atmospheric conditions, there are usually multiple contrails in the sky. Military, commercial, civil–it’s all up there and if you can’t see it, you can hear it. (It’s 11pm as I type this and there’s a small aircraft flying in circles over town.)

The day after the attack my husband and I went for a long walk that culminated on the top of rise. It was a clear day and so quiet. We were outside of town. The only engine sound we heard was the occasional car in the distance. Looking up and all around, the only things flying were birds, and bugs. It was beautiful, and weird, and one of the few immediate reminders in our area–over 2000 miles from New York–of what had happened.

I have to agree. I thought they were clunky, impractical symbols of unimaginative hubris. I did go up, but I can no longer remember the experience. I do clearly remember my trip to the top of the Empire State Building.

I think the picture Adam posted is so moving because of the blue sky and the awareness of what happened, which was essentially tragic blowback for often ruthless exploitation and manipulation of other geopolitical entities for our own self-centered purposes. And as is so often the case, mostly innocent people pay the price, including with their lives.

Dead on, Francoise, and I have to echo cooper’s sentiments regarding siobhan’s compelling personal commentary.

It really does help to get to read honest minds offering intelligent commentary.

Harold, The War Prayer has always been for me a very meaningful expression of frustration and exasperation for the follies of the human condition.

Francoise and Siobhan those are good comments. Thanks.

The national catharsis that followed (I was introduced to so many good poets on Fresh Air that month) helped prepare me for the impending personal tragedy. That sense of pulling together as a nation gave great comfort. An evening at the Herbst Theater with Garrison Keillor two weeks later was a salve for many of us - the voices raised in gentle song at the end of the evening linger with me still. I came home that night to hear that my mom had days left, if that. One upside of the bigger events was that last minute flights were easy to come by.

The two events are understandably intertwined for me. Because it’s a “bigger” anniversary, this year’s commemorations have dredged up deeper feelings. I’d rather think of my mom alive, rather than recall her time of dying; the closeness of the dates means that it will never be possible to put those weeks away entirely. On the other hand, it means that I will always be able to genuinely summon up the feeling of unity that came after the attacks, because it’s filed with the true and personal memories, and can’t be touched by political manipulation in that place.

(Fanny held a less serious comment of mine last night - if she releases it this morning, the juxtaposition may be odd.)