The story behind the image: this is from a local remembrance ceremony in 2010. The woman in the photograph is the Chaplin of a local fire department. The ceremony made me think about where I was on Sept. 11, 2001.
I was at home that day, stomach flu, working for a small town paper and ready to call in.. I sat up and turned the TV on to try to distract myself from feeling sick. I figured mindless morning show chatter was what I needed because back then it used to be mindless. The first plane had hit maybe five minutes before and newscasters were discussing it. I called my mom to tell her a plane had hit a building in New York. I watched, on the phone with her, when the second plane hit. “That’s no accident,” she said.
Ten minutes later the Pentagon was on fire and she said “we’re under attack.” I will never forget the anguish in my mom’s voice when the first tower fell.
“All those people. All those people.”
And we cried together into the phone.
We cried for those people, for their souls that had evaporated before us, live on TV, for their innocence lost, for our innocence lost.
I called my boss and my sick day was abandoned for a 12 hour day at work interviewing local residents who were there, the shock of what they had just seen leaving their voices hollow and lost.
For “all those people” we can never forget what was lost that day.