September 12th: The Day After

What I remember most about the day after 9/11 was how quiet everything seemed.  No planes in the sky.  I had the tv on nonstop-but the one up in our bedroom because I didn't want the kids to see it-so I kept running upstairs to watch.  I remember all the signs that went up in the parks in NYC with pictures of people who were missing; the train stations in Connecticut and New Jersey filled with the cars of NYC workers who never returned; the recorded voices of people who were trapped in the WTC leaving messages on their family's answering machines; all the phone calls we made and received from friends and family checking in.  Everyone put up American flags-on lawns, we had a photo pasted to our front door of the flag that was in the Baltimore Sun.  Going to High Holy Day services and they played America the Beautiful and the Star Spangled Banner, and everyone cried.  Then the next month going up to NYC with Stefan for a few days when he worked there.  I remember going into a fire station in the city and signing a condolence book.  I was on Fifth Avenue in front of St. Patricks's for a funeral of some firefighters.  There were two huge engines parked in front with an American flag draped between.  Bag pipes were playing Oh Danny Boy and Amazing Grace.  The streets were packed-bike messengers, business men, society women-and you could have heard a pin drop:  we all just stood there, in silence, facing the cathedral.  It became a touch point for our generation-where were you when it happened?  It's changed so many things-the way we travel, our civil liberties, our perception of our safety anywhere.   I hope never, ever to experience such a thing in my lifetime.