Those photos of people hanging out the windows - they make me so mad. The final decision those poor souls could make in their lives was to either jump or stay and hope that a miracle would take place. I cannot imagine the calls that 911 operators had to take that morning. I bet they are still traumatized. Then when the towers collapsed - I can’t see the video of those without crying.
That morning I was working at an NBC affiliate in NC. We had tvs everywhere in the building. That first plane hitting the tower - I thought some pilot had a heart attack or something. It didn’t make sense. After the second plane I knew we were under attack. Next door to our operation there was a Red Cross and I told my boss that I wanted to go give blood. (There was no business as usual that morning.) She told me to go ahead, but when I got there they were too busy (dozens of people had the same inclination). I went back to work.
I could not think straight that day. I asked my husband that night if the rescuers would be able to find some survivors under the rubble and he told me that the people who did not get out were essentially atomized. I could not believe it. It was so final. I was grateful that Bush was our president and not Gore. We dodged a huge bullet that election.
My blood still runs hot when 9/11 rolls around. My husband can’t watch the shows like what the History channel is showing. I feel it’s imperative to watch and listen and read accounts at least this one day a year to honor the lives of those who died that day and in the days and months and years beyond it because of the effect that day had on them.