Everyone who witnessed the attacks on 9-11-01 remembers exactly what they were doing when they heard the news. Everyone reacted differently and everyone wants to tell their version of the story. Here’s my story.
On that morning I was in my dorm room at UNT getting ready for my 9 a.m. French class. My computer was on and I got a message from my friend, Glenn Hower. It said, “turn on the t.v.” I asked, “what channel?” He said, “any channel.”
It was around 8:30 a.m. and news stations were just starting to break in to regular programing. There was a lot of confusion at that point and everyone seemed to think a plane accidentally flew in to the World Trade Center in New York. Some stations just put up a banner at the bottom of the screen and didn’t bother interrupting the morning shows. I kept watching and it only took a few minutes before news stations had live video feed on the twin towers. The second plane flew in to the other building. At that point all regular programming was out the window.
I was alone in my room and kept watching until about 8:55, when I heard chatter outside the door that classes might be cancelled. I went down to the front desk to see what was happening and they told me classes weren’t cancelled. I grabbed my books and walked to class. At that point, I (and everyone else) was very confused. I would have stayed in front of my t.v. to watch the news, but I was only a few weeks in to school and didn’t want to miss class.
About 10 minutes in to my class, someone poked their head in and said, “didn’t you hear, classes are cancelled today.” Our class was dismissed and I headed back to my dorm. I watched and listened as all planes were grounded. Then the rest of the highjacked flights were identified and crashed. Then it was declared an act of terrorism.
Chatter in the hallways was mixed – some excitement because classes were cancelled, some horror as students thought all major cities, including Dallas, might be targeted. I went across the street to the room of my friend (and now husband) to watch his t.v. I have to admit that I don’t remember much of what everyone else was doing that day. I watch the news for what seemed like all day. I only stopped when I saw the images of people jumping from the top floors of the twin towers.
I tell this story because something in me sparked that day. I realized in those moments watching the news that photojournalism is incredibly important. Vitally important. I realized that those people with camera in hand were running in to the smoke and ash to make sure that I could witness an event that would define my generation. And then they stayed and followed that story until everyone who could be rescued was safe and everyone who perished was honored.
The journalists that day didn’t care about pay; they didn’t care about sleep. They cared about service, and they cared about history.
There are so many stories that came out of that day and journalists have been trying since then to capture as many as possible. I found an interactive map on the New York Times web page called “Where I Was.” It allows you to write a few words and pin point on a map where you were on 9-11-01. Even short glimpses of stories like these help preserve our history. I posted a screen shot of my pin point at the top of the post.
Though it’s easy to get stuck in a cycle of complaining about heavy equipment, weather conditions and difficult shooting situations, it’s days like this that remind me of my passion for the work that I do.
Of course, I don’t mean to downplay those who were on the scene as emergency workers and brave volunteers. Or loved ones who have had to spend the last 10 years without family members and friends because of the attacks. Those people are the real heroes of 9-11.
Sorry, no pictures today.