Today marks the 22nd anniversary of September 11, 2001, a day that will always live in American history for the tragic terrorist attacks in New York City, Washington, D.C., and Pennsylvania.
We asked some members of our NextGen Publications Committee what they remember from this day in their lives. Below is a roundup of their perspectives.
Amber Grant
“I will never forget September 11, 2001. I had just started sixth grade, so I was still getting oriented to a new school, new teachers, and meeting new friends. However, during those days, we went back to school after Labor Day, so I had just started a week before.
I remember that morning. My mom came in to wake me up and she told me that the Twin Towers were falling. I didn’t believe her, but I ran out to the living room anyway, and I watched in horror as the second tower came down. My mom was describing to me what was going on and all of the events that were happening. My heart broke for all of the people who lost their lives, and all of the family members who were on those planes who lost their lives as well.
My family members were in New York at the time, so on the way to school that morning, my mom tried to get ahold of them. Needless to say, she could not, so that made me even more nervous. I did go to school that day anyway, and I remember all of our teachers were asking us to write something about what had happened that day and how that had affected us. Being 11, it was still kind of hard for me to completely understand what was going on, but I definitely remember writing that. I was sad and scared, and I couldn’t believe that someone would do this to innocent people. I was very upset that day, and I remember coming home from school and finding out that my family members were okay thankfully. I just was thanking God that my family was around me.
I remember that night that the only thing on television was the news. On the radio, they were playing the national anthem on the hour every hour. I listened and prayed for all of the innocent people who lost their lives that day. I will never forget September 11, 2001 for as long as I live.”
Melanie Sinohui
“I was living the dream. I had turned 18 four months earlier, graduated high school that same month, and moved into Bruce Hall at the University of North Texas less than a month before. My biggest cares in the world were making new, lifelong friends, getting on to the Aerie yearbook staff, and not staying up too late so I wasn’t late for my 9:30 a.m. classes (I was at least smart enough to not have any 9 a.m.’s).
That Tuesday morning was like any Tuesday morning. Looking back, what was so strange was we were an hour behind New York/D.C./Pennsylvania, and both towers had fallen already by the time most of us rolled out of bed for class that day and yet we didn’t know. A few of us had cell phones, but they were analog, and that was not how news was communicated.
I was in the Auditorium Building, one of the oldest buildings on campus dating back to 1924, for my English class. We got out of class early that day, but not because anyone knew anything. I vividly remember walking back to Bruce. It was an absolutely beautiful fall day. The sun was shining brightly, and it wasn’t too hot yet. But it was quiet, so quiet walking across campus. I don’t remember hearing any birds, and since we got out of class early, there were no students bustling around. And in hindsight, there were no airplanes in the sky either (Denton is only about 45 minutes from DFW International Airport).
I walked into the front door of Bruce and there were students congregating around the front desk, but that was not uncommon as that’s where you checked out keys for the soundproof practice rooms down in the basement. The radio was on, but again, nothing seemed weird. I walked up the flight of stairs to my floor and when I opened the door to the landing, I heard everyone’s TVs and radios on, and everyone’s doors were propped open. I turned the corner and walked down the hall to my room where my roommate, Melody, was watching the news and was on her computer gathering more information. We were watching the news and Peter Jennings, our generation’s Walter Cronkite, was nonstop reporting, and nothing made this hit home harder than this Journalism major seeing Mr. Jennings lose his composure and curse on TV. (Random sidenote: I had my VCR set to record Beverly Hills, 90210 every morning as it was running in syndication, and so I still have a videotape with about six hours of news coverage from that day.)
I called my mom. She was watching the news and had told me Dad had called her from work much earlier and told her to turn the news on and it looked like a movie, not the news. I had family in New York City, so I jumped on AOL Instant Messenger in an attempt to reach out as we knew the phone lines were impassable and, later that afternoon, got ahold of them. Mel and I later went downstairs to get some food in the cafeteria and see what was going on with our peers. Classes were canceled for the day, blood drives were being setup, everyone was in disbelief of what was going on and I don’t recall any of us understanding the impact this day would have, as I’m sure is true for most of the world.
By dinnertime, though, we were exhausted by the over-stimulus of news, worry, and the unknown. A few of us left campus and went to an Outback Steakhouse right on I-35 to just get away for a while – decompress. I remember sitting by the window and looking out across the freeway to see a gas station on the other side with a line of cars like was seen by many in the ‘70s. There was also looming fear about which cities might be targeted next, and there was some fear Denton might be. We had the headquarters of FEMA in the region. We were at the intersection of I-35 East (going through Dallas) and West (going through Fort Worth), and it would be very easy to cut off interstate travel there. These are the crazy thoughts that go through your head when you have no idea what’s going on other than that the U.S. is being attacked.
Over the next several months, I saw patriotism like I had never seen before, and Texas is a very proud and patriotic state. We saw flags everywhere, and we saw camaraderie and fellowship every single day. We were coming together for a common good that I could only imagine pales in comparison to how this country came together in World War II, but felt it was as close as we could get. Classes resumed, and we continued with blood drives and fellowship. I was in choir in the College of Music and we had our usual concerts, but the messages of some of our songs meant something completely different when we performed than when we received that folder of music in August. I wish we could go back to the patriotism of the immediate aftermath of 9/11.
was a bittersweet case study that took us through the next few years related to the attack, the “war,” and the treatment of Americans who looked like the attackers.
Five years later, I was working for the Mineral Daily News Tribune in Keyser, West Virginia where we covered the five-year anniversary of that day. There was something very humbling about putting that remembrance issue together. I was very close with many of the firefighter/EMS/police department volunteers and staff around the county and was listening to their firsthand accounts of getting all their jump gear loaded and ready to hit the road the second New York, D.C., or Pennsylvania came calling, and some of them did. I had gotten so used to sitting in the newsroom, listening to the scanner and hearing calls daily for motor vehicle accidents or medical emergencies that it was unbelievable to think that someone sat in my chair that day and heard the calls for help over their scanner.
Fast-forward to July 2019. I was working for a major telecommunications company and was making my first trip to our headquarters in New Jersey. I went out a few days early to visit New York City for the first time. My last night there, I stayed about two blocks south of the World Trade Center. I woke up to a warm summer morning, very bright like my morning in Denton 18 years earlier, but nowhere near as quiet. I walked over to the memorial the next morning on my way to meet some peers who worked at 140 West right next door. I turned the corner, saw the pools, and I had this wave of emotion come over me that I don’t think I have ever felt before or since. I was confused by tourists taking photos as if at an attraction, and how they couldn’t be more revenant (no one was being disrespectful. I was just confused). I ran my hands over some of the engraved names in the stone and thought back to the live images we had seen of this exact spot 18 years before. It was dumbfounding to think this area was bursting with emergency personnel, survivors, and stories and stories high of rubble. I composed myself and walked the next block north to visit my peers. They told me about that day as they were working in that very building then. They told me about how high the rubble went and how they were surprised there was so little damage to that historic, art-deco building.
I’ve verbally relayed this story every year when someone asks, “Where were you?” This was our “where were you?” day like JFK’s assassination was for our parents, and the attack on Pearl Harbor was for our grandparents. Never forget. I’ll never forget that day. I’ll never forget our first responders running into the destruction from all areas of the country. I’ll never forget the patriotism all around us. And I’ll never forget a broadcaster who made it all real, by being real that day. Never forget!”
Greg Lindberg
“On 9/11, I had just turned 15 and was starting my freshman year of high school. I was in my Spanish III class – second period – when a student from a nearby classroom came into ours to tell us that the World Trade Center had been hit by a plane. My teacher, Mrs. Galante, immediately turned on the TV in our room to see what was going on. She was from New Jersey and got emotional as we watched the news coverage. I then moved onto my computer class where my teacher, Mrs. Kimball, had ABC News on with Peter Jennings narrating the horrific images which I could somewhat see at the time, at least the smoke and flames billowing out of the buildings. She was also showing some emotion as the full scope of that day became clearer. I then recall going into my geometry class later that day where we had a quiz. Many of the students said we should postpone the quiz because of what happened, but our teacher still gave it to us.
When I got home from school that day, I continued watching some of the coverage with my brother and parents. It crossed my mind about what kind of world I was going to be entering as an adult just a few years after that, and whether these terrorist attacks would become a common part of the American fabric. This thought was very troubling at the time, and I’m sure others felt the same way.
In 2019, I attended a work conference with my boss in New York City. We got to check out the memorial there with the engraved names of the souls lost. For the first time, it truly struck me as to how many people actually lost their lives on that day and in the days following. I still want to see the museum there someday, but I highly recommend anyone who gets a chance to at least visit the memorial.
To this day, I continue to send my thoughts and prayers to all who were impacted by the events of 9/11, and those who continue to feel its effects in various ways. While our country has witnessed far too many mass shootings and other senseless tragedies since then, I am grateful that we have not had another highly coordinated terrorist attack like we did 22 years ago. I hope and pray we will never have to bear witness to such a thing ever again.”
Hindley Williams
“I was in second grade when the tragedy occurred. My parents shielded me from the footage on TV. It was not until I was older that I saw the footage of people throwing themselves from the buildings, trying to save their lives in the only way they knew how.
The events of 9/11 reached my young mind in subtler ways. School closed suddenly and with little explanation. My parents worked to keep in touch with each other until them, my siblings, and I were safely at home. My dad sat me down and told me there are people in the world who commit evil things and we don’t know why. Sometimes people are so broken inside that they hurt other people and they make elaborate plans to kill and destroy. I was too young to remember the days after 9/11, the moments when the country simultaneously held its breath and shed collective tears, unsure what the future would reveal and carrying the lives of those lost in our national consciousness forever. But I will always remember my dad telling me about the untamed and ruthless force of evil for the first time and how it is important to be good to others and stand up for love and humankind.
As I got older and learned about bloody tragedy after bloody tragedy in my history classes, I saw time after time that my dad was right: the only way to conquer cruelty is to be loving, generous, and kind, and to hold onto our humanity with all we have.”