September 11, 2003
Remembering September 11
My first memory of that day is my mother telling me to get out of bed and come down to the television. She was saying something about planes hitting the twin towers and an attack on the Pentagon. I got up, raced downstairs, sat in front of our big 27-inch tv, rubbed my groggy eyes and watched smoked pouring from the towers. I was hoping this was some cruel accident, but knew war was at hand.
As I look through my journal entries (no, I don't put all my writing on the Net) I was filled with war rage. I wrote,
This must be treated as an act of war. This isn't a criminal issue; it's a military issue.
It was Osama bin Laden, and he should be killed.
The U.S. response must be as strong as an Israeli response. We cannot look weak. Nukes shouldn't be off the table.
I also noticed the surrealism. In another entry I described people walking away from Ground Zero,
They looked like ghosts. Some of the survivors from WTC were caked with grey-white dust.
Watching the plane crash into the 2nd tower was like something from a James Bond movie.
Ironically, the night before, I was watching a James Bond movie.