On September 11, 2001 at around 7:50 a.m., I rushed into the alumni building at the University of Alabama in Huntsville. I had been taking a few classes to get myself up-to-speed on graphic design and technical communications. I was working in the alumni affairs office that fall.
As I passed by an office, I noticed a group of men standing in a small group, watching a television.
“Hm, must be a tele-conference,” I thought vaguely as I hurried into an office that I shared with another lady.
I’m not sure who came in and told us, but we heard that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Terrible news, for sure. We figured that some plane somehow flew off-course and crashed into the building.
We were wrong.
About 15 minutes later, another plane crashed into the south tower.
It was hard to stay focused on work when such a terrible sequence of events had just happened.
After planes went down into the Pentagon and near Shanksville, worry set in.
What exactly was going on? Who would be next? Could our town be a target?
Lefty (my husband) worked in a building nearby. Walking distance, if necessary. If the country was being attacked, at least we would be together.
The type of evil that happened that day was just unthinkable. How could people care so little for innocent lives? The victims who died that day were doing what I was doing…just going about my life.
Firefighters and police officers became larger-than-life heroes that day.
For days after 9/11, no planes went through our air space. There was a hush, all around us…
Some people may forget. But not me.
I will never forget what happened that day. I will never forget.