ten years ago today…

…i was in my bathroom and my cell phone rang.
it was my mother.
“planes have hit the world trade center and the pentagon”, she said, with a franticness in her voice that took me aback.
i rushed upstairs to lee’s and we turned on his ancient television to the news.

it is the first and last time i have watched television at home, in my 11 years of living here.
new york is only a few hundred miles south of boston. we live a few dozen blocks from the highest buildings in boston. i wondered if they would come down.

marisa came up, and sandhia, who were living on the first floor then.

and we watched the towers collapse, live.
in the first heartbeats, i was ashamed at how excited i was.

no death toll yet, just the knowledge that we were watching history, and maybe entering world war three.
my friends in new york.
my ex, the actor, he was down there.

he went after we broke up. a few months before.
we hadn’t been talking.
it hadn’t been pretty.

i called him.
it all came together and it all collapsed.


here’s the footage of the song.

it’s from two years later, in 2003, when the dresden dolls were still relatively tiny and unknown, in boston at the paradise lounge….
playing to probably 100 people.



you can have washington i’ll take new jersey
you can have london but i want new york city

i should get providence i’ve got a job now
los angeles – obvious – that’s where you belong now

you can have africa, asia, australia
as long as you keep your hands off café pamplona

we can split germany right down the middle
you’d hate it there, anyway
take berlin and we’ll call it even

you can take all of the carry-on baggage
i’ll trade the saskia jokes for the alphabet language

and summer vacations we’ll split between parents

who forced us to hate them on alternating weekends

you call it over, and i call you psycho
significant other?
just say we were lovers and we’ll call it even
we’ll call it even

i am the ground zero ex-friend you ordered
disguised as a hero to get past your borders
i know when i’m wanted i’ll leave when you ask me to
mind my own business and speak when i’m spoken to

i am the tower around which you orbited
i am not proud i am just taking orders
i fall to the ground within moments of impact
i hit back if hit
and attack if attacked

you get route 2 between concord and lexington
i want mass ave from the square to my apartment

and if we should meet through some misunderstanding
i’ll be very sweet, very patient, and forgiving
(now get off my side of the state)

and if we should meet one another in passing
despite these techniques there is sometimes no avoiding
(there must be some kind of mistake)

we’ll raise high our white flags and say “hi” and shake hands
declaring the land we’re on unamerican
we’ll call it even

i am the tower around which you orbited
i am not proud i am just taking orders
i fall to the ground within moments of impact
i hit back if hit
and attack if attacked

i am an accident waiting to happen
i’m laughing like mad while you strangle the captain
my place may be taken, but make no mistake
from a little black black box i can say without shame
that you’ve lost
do you know what you’ve lost?

so take whatever you’d like
i’ll strike like the States on fire
you won’t sleep very tight
no hiding
no safe covers
make your bed and now lie
just like you always do
you can fake it for the papers, but i’m on to you….


it remains one of my favorite dresden dolls’ songs.


p.s. if you’re wondering….it’s the final song on the dolls’ self-titled. you can get it over on that site where all my other music is.

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  • Tom

    Watching the footage of the towers being hit, and collapsing, on the news that day had the same effect for me as when I first listened to Truce.  It’s my favourite Dolls song and in a way I’m glad you don’t play it often, because it’s too sincere to play every set,  but I hope I’m lucky enough to see it live one day.

    • http://amandapalmer.net/ Amanda Palmer

      it’s one of my favorites to play live, and yes, not all the time.

      • Paul

        I always thought it was just a really interesting literary device to juxtapose the political atmosphere and the breakup. The way your relationship was so unbearable that it actually desecrated the land, labeling it “un-American.” 

        Now I see that it is so much more than just a really fucking beautiful metaphor. 

        It is not only my favorite Dolls song, but it has long been my favorite song of all time. I’m really intrigued by this new interpretation. Thank you, Amanda. This is why I love you. 

        • Tavey

          I was living in Toronto, Canada at the time. However, that particular week I was visiting a Renaissance Faire in Maryland, about half way between Baltimore and Washington. We were at a farmer’s market, and getting a coffee at one of those travelling greasy spoons. The woman behind the counter had a small black and white TV playing the news. My friend Kate and I watched the first plane hit, picked up our coffees, and turned to head back to where our other friend was waiting. We didn’t know what we’d seen, thought it was some kind of bad TV movie. 

          Then the cell phones began to ring. Within minutes the entire market had gone completely, utterly silent, save for the sound of weeping. 

          There are so many memories of that time – being stuck in the states and calling the airline, being nice to the lady on the other end of the call, only to be thanked for not shouting at her. That made me even sadder. Being so close to Washington, with how creepily empty the roads were. Making small ribbon pins at the faire the next week. 

          Knowing I was out of place, but  being part of the whole at the same time. I still, to this day, think we went into WW3, only nobody wants to admit it… 

          • Emilly Orr

            So many memories? We were still living in Spokane, in our rambling basement apartment, where we never went to sleep with the radio on, and at eight that morning friends of ours called us. Groggily, I picked up the phone and the first word I heard was “Explosion”. 

            “Wait, what?” I asked. And they told me what had happened, speaking over each other to do it. I remember hanging up the phone, and literally having to dig out a radio that still worked (because we didn’t have a TV) and listening.

            Two hours later, we were both up, sitting at the table, staring at the radio. Two hours past that, friends had come over, and taken us back to their place, where we saw the explosions for the first time.

            I remember thinking, bizarrely, that the smoke from the second tower going up looked like a chrysanthemum. All four of us stayed glued to the screen that entire day, occasionally jumping channels to check out different angles. It WAS what was on the screen. No one was talking about anything else, for hours, it felt like.

            And so many of my friends had friends, family, ex-loves, current loves, in New York…everyone was panicked. All the systems had broken down, no information was coming out in terms of who’d been lost, where, how…and it wouldn’t come out of New York for days. So much worry, so much pain, and so much shock.

            A week later, we were driving home, and we saw a shirtless teenage boy walking down the sidewalk with an American flag larger than he was. The expression on his face…I remember looking at my girl, and her saying “It’s starting” and I’m just nodding, nodding as we drive past him, into the dark.

      • lentower

        one of my favs to hear live

        • Kspeaking

          I was 27, and had just started a shit job at a call centre, and was going through training.   I wasn’t paying much attention, but was instead working on a piece of artwork depicting paper dolls cut out of the sky only to be thrown into the fire.  I was struggling with some religious existentialism; specifically the idea of a deity that would bring people into the world only to send them to hell.  Little did I know how poignant that image would end up being.  I was bored, so I faked a headache and said I had to go home.  I arrived home just as the plane hit the second tower.   My heart sunk, and I was filled with anger and frustration.  I felt like a prophet that no one listens to.  I recalled conversations with my brother around the time that Dubya got elected, saying that there would be another war in Iraq within two years.  Echoes of Pearl Harbour reverberated down the years, and I knew I was watching the start of what could possibly be WWIII.  The images on magazine covers the next few weeks became icons.  I realized then that what I had been drawing was incomplete.  I ended up using a before and after picture from magazines to complete the image I’ve attached, called “Paper dolls thown into the fire”.  It is not meant to trivialize deaths, but rather to mourn the senseless loss of life, and the beginning of an even greater tragedy: over $1,248,123,904,749 spent; over 6000 soldiers dead and and at least 180,000 killed so far to avenge the deaths of 2973 people.

          • M.

            I hope you never give up drawing!

  • Chanin

    My all time favorite DD song. So beautiful and powerful. Thank you for sharing this :-)

  • Rachii

    I can’t believe I never made that connection before. Strangely enough my iPod played this earlier on today. x

  • Ruth

    I was going to my first local unsigned metal gig that day at the hang-out where all the cool kids went. I saw the first plane hit on the news before leaving home and being a 14 year old hormonal lump did not care at all. I later realised the significance. And I love this song, too xx

    • Julesahtron

      I was 13 and the news interupted my favourite soap at the time, and now I do wonder where my compassion was. It meant nothing to me. But watching “102 Minutes That Changed America” on the History channel really hit home how horrific it all was. I wished I hadn’t watched it alone. I was discussing it with my brother this morning, and he said he was in an electronics shop at the time, saw it on all their TV screens and thought it was a trailer for a film because it seemed so unreal, unbelievable. If only it had been….

      • Ruth

        I was completely ignorant of American politics and even geography at the time. And I was pretty sure the Empire State building was the tallest building in the world…now any film I see set in New York before 2001 has them as part of the backdrop or skyline or whatever and I feel guilt somehow.

        Nobody even mentioned it at work today, it was kind of weird.

        Also, I was there when AFP played this two years ago (to the day) in London at the Union Chapel and forgot the words. The silence was amazing, you could’ve heard a pin drop and in a church too. Oooh I got shivers.

  • http://amandapalmer.net/ Amanda Palmer

    that’s so funny to me, because it seems so obvious.but then again, it’s also obvious to me that coin-operated boy is about fear of intimacy, and there are DOZENS of people out there convinced its about a sex toy. go figure.

    • http://twitter.com/aetas_amo Morgan!

      I’ve gotten into MANY arguments with people over the fact that it is NOT about a sex toy. They always say I’m wrong. Glad to know I’m not.

    • Valerie

      See now, that one I understood right off. I missed the whole 9/11 connection to Truce, though now that I’ve read the lyrics it should have been obvious.

      • Danni

        Same here. Coin-Operated boy is my favorite song and it is so because I can totally understand the sentiment. Truce always seemed to have a 9/11 hint, but I thought I might have just been reading into it a bit much. Good to know now.

    • Timothy Kreuter

      A coin-operated sex toy would be kinda ridiculous.  Then again, my one friend was convinced that she wanted a steam powered vibrator, complete with a little person shoveling coal into the engine, so anything is possible.

    • http://twitter.com/quality_rachni Chloe

      I always thought that Coin-operated Boy was about loneliness rather than a sex toy.

    • Sarah

      I always thought it was both of those things.

    • lentower

      only dozens?  ; – }

      maybe you’re using some unusual number system,
      composer grok?

    • gattopardo

      this was the first Dolls song I ever heard. I was deep in conversation with a dear friend who showed it to me and it took me a while to get back into what we were discussing. I heard this song about 10 times after we hung up. And that was how it all began. :)

    • Xjaeva

      it never even occured to me that coin operated boy was about a sex toy until someone pointed it out. I like what I orginally thought it was about better anyhow “coin-operated boy is about fear of intimacy”

  • Rahel


  • disdeeeeen

    …thought so. It’s beautiful.

    I was too little when it happened to even remember. My world history teacher’s making us do a project about it and it’s total bs how insensitive people are.

  • http://twitter.com/editrickiness Heather

    is it exclusively about 9/11? to me it feels like a mesh of a wrenching breakup and 9/11…the crushing emotional power of both situations?

    • http://amandapalmer.net/ Amanda Palmer

      no. never. i don’t think i’ve ever written a song about just one thing. 

      well, maybe one song. 

      • http://seanslater.com/ Sean Slater


        • http://amandapalmer.net/ Amanda Palmer


  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=875205382 Kieran Pratzner

    ok, this makes sence…. i always felt this song was about a terrible break up and having to divide the world so you never have to cross paths again. this song helped me through the worst break up of my life. many tears came while screaming the lyrics to this song. it was extremely theraputic for me.
    good stuff.

  • kendrawcandraw

    How strange that even after this has been my favorite song on that album that I never made that connection. I got chills reading that first chorus as I realized what it was. To me it was always about a couple, the last on earth, dividing up what was left of their planet to force themselves away from each other; a violent, deliberate split and spit in the face. But they could never quite fully untangle themselves of each other because they were what was there, what was left. They needed each other to exist so they themselves could keep existing.

    …Actually, it still makes sense both ways with that explanation. I ramble. Thank you Amanda. This is probably my favorite song you’ve ever done.

  • http://amandapalmer.net/ Amanda Palmer

    while we’re at it…i remember going to see ani difranco not long after 9/11…and one of her song/poems made an impression. 

    it’s called “serpentine”, and it has the same collision of the personal and political

    ….So just give me my Judy Garland drugs
    and let me get back to work
    cause the Empire State building
    is the tallest building in New York
    And I always got the feeling
    you just liked to hear it fall

    Off your tongue

    But I remember my name
    in your mouth
    And I don’t think I was done
    hearing it close to my ear
    on a whisper’s way to a moan

    But Pavlov hits me with more bad news every time I answer the phone
    So I play and I sing and I just let it ring all day when I’m at home

    A de facto choice of macro
    or microcosmic melancholy
    but Baby, any way you slice it
    I’m thinking I could just as soon usethe time alone 

    • http://www.facebook.com/avandamanders Amanda Grace Leota Toreson

      Serpentine is a good one. But I feel that her best piece about 9/11 was Self Evident. Brings me to tears every time.

    • http://angryyoungwomanblog.blogspot.com confirmed spinster

      Ani got me through the Bush years.  She literally kept me alive.  Oh, god, the feelings this has brought to the surface.  Dammit, I didn’t want to remember this.

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1171395145 Amy Morgan Marie Custer

    I remember exactly where I was when this all happened. I was at work, at a fairly popular toy store. They allowed me to watch the footage on a small, portable black and white TV while still doing my job. I remember getting reprimanded over the fact that I was sobbing uncontrollably, both over the horrible tragedy and the fact that my mom was going on her first ever flight to a work-related meeting that day (at least, that’s when I thought it was), so understandably I was freaked…especially so when my many calls to her cell went unanswered. It took me hours to get ahold of her, and thank goodness her flight wasn’t supposed to be for a few more days after that. I am so grateful that she didn’t become one of the victims of that horrible day.

  • kmwilliams

    I always thought the allusions in the song were WWII references.. the Berlin wall, concentration camps, Dresden, nazis.. “We can split Germany right down the middle” ” I am not proud, I’m just taking orders”.. etc.  I never made the Sept 11th connection before now. (“Ground Zero”, to me, still means Hiroshima..  and the “tower” reference always made me think of the people who were shot from the guard towers trying to escape the camps or trying to get over the wall.. “disguised as a hero to get past your borders” “I fall to the ground”..)

    Whatever its writers intent, whatever images it conjures in your head.. a great song.

    • http://amandapalmer.net/ Amanda Palmer

      you’re not wrong.

  • Sinead

    I was 7 and just home from school (I live in Ireland.) Mum had been watching the news and had to come collect me right after she watched the second tower being hit. We were all rushed home early and I remember I had just sat down on the sitting room floor when my mother turned on the television to see the second tower starting to collapse. I remember asking her why this was happening and, upon receiving no answer, being very, very aware that something “really bad” was happening… Also, being 7, I was *convinced* the world was ending. Terrifying things to watch unfold that young. I love this song, and thank you for the amazing blog.xx

    • http://twitter.com/theniablack Nia Black

      You have no idea how much it means right now to find someone the same age as me from Ireland who it impacted. I was much the same. My parents are Irish-American though and lived there and all of that and I know how deeply it affected them. Thank you for showing me that I’m not the only 17 year old in this country who is thinking about this and who remembers what it was like when they fell.

  • http://amandapalmer.net/ Amanda Palmer
  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1328536321 Emily Bergmann

    weltschmerz. the sorrow that one feels and accepts as one’s necessary portion in life. could apply, but i think the literal meaning works better: world pain.

    i was  seven when 9/11 happened (i am young), and i remember thinking i had inadvertently caused it by having bad thoughts. kind of like the scene in amelie when she’s convinced that her camera causes accidents by a neighbor. i felt “world pain” then.

    and i feel like “truce” is world pain at its most heavy, pressing on you like a cartoon anvil.

  • http://www.facebook.com/youburn Chaz Hudson

    I was in the army when it happened.  My unit had JUST started a training exercise to get ready to go to Kosovo (how many people remember we were there anymore?) and we were in something of an information vacuum.  At first we didn’t even believe it was happening because we were listening to your standard morning radio comedians known for bad taste humor.  NPR told us otherwise.  It was a day of pure confusion.  To this day I’m still shocked and surprised that so many people were shocked and surprised by the attack in the first place.  I’m appalled at the reactions afterwards.  I’m impressed and honored by the sacrifices of my peers, disgusted and dishonored by the decisions of my leadership.  Still waiting for one of them to say they fucked up…

  • http://twitter.com/ChayleeNBrock Chaylee Nicole Brock

    This has always been my favorite Dresden Dolls song. As someone said previously, I also have spent many moments in my life screaming these lyrics along with the music while tears fell. Hard.

    I picked up on the 9/11 theme, but it was always so much more than that. For me it felt like a song about setting boundaries, and it gave me the permission to set those boundaries I knew I needed. 
    Thank you, Amanda, for both sharing about your 9/11 experience and for writing this song. It holds a special place in my heart, and it always will. 
    Love. <3

  • rachel

    he 9/11 connections seem really obvious to me now. i think i had sort of suspected them before (ground zero, orbiting around towers, falling to the ground) but hadn’t really thought “this is about 9/11.” so thanks for the story.

    it’s funny- when i first heard this song, it had a huge impact on me. i couldn’t stop listening to it for awhile. and i played it for my then-boyfriend… but he didn’t react to it at all. and, like kieran pratzner said before me, there was a lot of screaming these lyrics before and after our break up, which was very therapeutic. so thanks for that as well. this is one of my all-time favorite songs for many reasons.

  • Musings

    Boston and Truce are two of my favorite songs, and I can’t separate the two, really.   9/11: I was in homeroom as a freshman in high school, and a teacher had turned on the news.  I remember that most kids were talking over it, not really paying attention, but the kid sitting next to me and I were watching intently.  “What is that?  Is it an accident?” he asked me, and then the second plane hit, live, and I said, “No… no… I don’t think so.”  And then we went to class, and no one talked about it, except for whispers in the hall, for the rest of the day.  Later, I IMed with a friend who went to school in Manhattan, and she said that they had taken all the kids and put them in the gymnasium, and then a teacher went and got two girls and pulled them to the side, and the girls kept crying and crying.  The next day was the first day we had ever had a prayer in school, and somehow the mention of god made me feel utterly alone.  I yelled at my mother, later on that day, because she believed very much in reincarnation and said that those people must have done something terrible in a past life to deserve such a death, and it was a time I thought a lot about faith and humanity — because how could I stay optimistic about a humanity that did things like this?  For a while, I walked away from all religions, and then in college I found my way back to an altered form of Buddhism, which was more a personal philosophy and no longer incorporated any literal form of reincarnation.    Years later, in college, I met a girl from Iowa who said my brother should expect to get searched more often because “he looked like a terrorist” and then New Year’s, a few years ago, on the way to your concert, I got told that I “looked like a very cute terrorist” and “don’t hijack the train”.  There are ripples everywhere, and I feel connected to those towers because although I didn’t lose anyone, I lost enough, really.  Now I teach kids who were 1 at the time of the attacks and I think about the things they lost, too, that they never even knew were there at all.

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=613751245 Alex Manuel

    I shared my “Where I was” in a blog I wrote for the occasion: http://www.thepopulista.com/?p=214

  • Japke

    I hope I can talk along even though I am not American. But I remember the day as if it was yesterday. I was was 16 and on a school-outing to the beach in Scheveningen, The Netherlands. One of my friends was called by his mother on his cellphone, with the message that a plane had hit one of the towers.
    We couldn’t imagine how bad it was until we got back to school. We turned on CNN and I watched with most of the teachers and a handfull of classmates. By then, both towers had come down.
    Most of the other classmates did not care as much and just went to a diner. I remember thinking that was so strange beacause I knew right away that what had happened would change the world.
    The most frightening for me was all the people running away from ground zero with true fear in their eyes. I will never forget that.

    • http://amandapalmer.net/ Amanda Palmer

      every one can say anything. 

      on my blog, americans don’t exist.

      thank you for your post.

      • Japke

        I know you probably wouldn’t mind. But seeing all the mourning -sorry for am saying it again- americans on tv today and their pure pain I felt as though my post wouldn’t contribute much as I am not part of that. It is was a feeling I had that is hard to explain =)

        • Samaire

          Japke, as an American citizen, I must tell you that having the whole world hold us close and mourn with us, makes it just a little bit easier.   We are the world.   We are One.

          • Japke

            =) thank you

        • PolitelyOffend

          As someone from America, knowing that people all over are acknowledging the day is incredibly significant. We’re all people. Empathy and compassion helps.

    • http://twitter.com/lichtstrom_ Luminous Flux

      *huge gratitude*
      thank you, thank you, thank you.

  • AilsaK

    I love the song, it fills me with calm. Thank you for sharing the story.

    I’m so disconnected from that day in many ways but stuck to it. I’d gone up the towers when I was 13, my Mum and I went over to celebrate my birthday. We were remembering today that as we queued a little girl hugged her daddy and said “Daddy, why do you have your gun?” having felt it under his shirt. We’re from rural Scotland – we took a step back. In 1995 it was possible to go up the second tallest building in the world with a gun under your shirt.

    In 2001 I was in a Stress and Sress Management class, back in rural Scotland. I went out to the bathroom and checked my phone, my boyfriend had texted me saying a plane had flown into the WTC. In shock I walked back into class and interrupted the lecture to tell everyone. Very few people knew what the WTC was, and only a handful of us spent the rest of the class in a state of shock. A friend was in holiday and due to go up it that day. Thankfully he’d actually flown to Toronto the day before, but we spent 2 days waiting for news. I’m so glad that that’s it for me, but for whatever reason I feel more connected to that event than any other, including 7/7 (despite having cried with a survivor of that day).

  • http://twitter.com/ChayleeNBrock Chaylee Nicole Brock

    I was 12 and convinced that the world was ending. How is a twelve-year-old supposed to wrap their head around something so evil? A few days later I heard Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Tuesday’s Gone” on the radio and I finally realized the gravity of the entire situation.

    It’s amazing the power that music has…

  • Steph

    *Reaches out and hugs laptop hoping you will get it.*
    I was only 10 when it happened. All the parents picked up the kids  from school early…
    I remember sitting with my mum watching the news, and she was crying and had her hand to her face and it was shaking like mad. At that age I didn’t really understand what was going on but I knew how strong my mum was and it had to be bad. We went to New York when I was 14 and went to Ground Zero…. and it stopped being images on a tv and became a place… and people and silence.
    I had never cried so hard before.  I didn’t and still don’t understand how someone could do it.

  • http://twitter.com/maryisawesome maryisawesome

    I posted this on my blog the other night. http://seeherechicken.com/2011/09/10/442/

    Also: I remember the first time I hear “Truce” in late 2002. I thought “yeah… that’s just about right.”

  • Not to Blame

    I got my first period in late August of 2001( I was 11). This led to my step father’s decision to stop sexually abusing me. I was a “woman” now and he couldn’t love me in the same way. My feelings of despair and rejection, coupled with my feelings of repulsion and fear toward my new, “adult” body turned into a massive storm of rage. A few weeks later I was sitting in my 6th grade classroom when I learned about the attacks. I thought I caused it. It was my fault, my body’s fault. I killed all of those people and I was going to get caught. After 10 years I know I had nothing to do with the deaths and disaster of 09/11/2001, but the child inside of me still feels she is to blame.

    • http://twitter.com/ChayleeNBrock Chaylee Nicole Brock


      I’m so glad you know now that it wasn’t your fault. I hope you know that NONE of what you just shared was your fault.

      *Extra LOVE*

    • sarah_moon60

      I don’t know the words in my heart I want to tell you, I know the pain you felt, I know the survival the other side of the despair.  My words fail but know you are heard and understood.

    • Obsessed

      So so much sympathy. I am very sensitive to this, having had something similar in my head concerning Challenger. I will say: if you were to blame that meant that little girl had power – serious power – and it’s worth it to look for other ways in which she was powerful and didn’t know it, in more positive frames.

    • Me

      I told my mom about my dad’s sexual abuse of me the day before I turned fifteen. That summer and 9/11 draw a line through the middle of my life – discovering what kind of world I lived in but also discovering that I had a right to be happy in it and to change it.

      • gattopardo

        good for you Me. That is a brave and beautiful realization and I hope it is still inspiring you to live the life you deserve. * hugs * 

    • gattopardo

      massive loving hug to you. I wish I could take the child in you and hold her for a long time and tell her all the things nobody told me either. That you are beautiful and precious and that nothing is your fault, you have done nothing wrong, you are not wrong, or at fault, or lacking in anything. Sorry if this sounds patronising, it is not at all what I mean. * hugs * 

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=550539353 Trillium Nonesense

    I’m a 911 dispatcher, on the other coast.  That morning I was sitting in dispatch just doing routine traffic stops because school just started and we were patrolling the school zones a little more than normal.  Then the printers started going nuts with terror alerts and security warnings, and we started calling in extra people to set up around the airport, the federal building, city halls, the air vents that supply the light rail, the water storage areas, locking down schools.  Except in dispatch we didn’t have any outside confirmation about what was happening.  No tv’s, no internet. Nothing except terror alerts.  Imaginations ran wild.  While horrific I was slightly relieved when I found out what had actually happened.  (I hope that doesn’t sound insensitive, I was appalled, but in comparison to what my mind conjured up isolated in a room for 12 hours… ) 

    Today I’m sitting in a dispatch center, we’re still getting warnings and alerts (have been all week) but today is different. 

  • sarah_moon60

    Where I was,   it was early morning in Oregon my closest friend called me and said it is time to wake up, and I did, not just wake that morning but woke from the mourning my life had  been for years. I woke and became a participant in life,  no longer a  rock being smoothed by a stream,  I rose and became  a dam when needed and a bridge if the occasion called for it.  In many  ways you might say 9/11 caused me life.

  • kashmiro

    The first time I heared ‘Truce’ was this time 2 years ago in a church in London. When the towers went down I was too young to understand the damage and chaos of 9/11.  I cried in that church and think the impact finally hit me at that concert.

  • heyitsjacy

    I’m kind of a poor college student, but if Amanda Palmer comes to Indiana I’d donate 50 bucks.
    Is that too low?

    • http://twitter.com/ChayleeNBrock Chaylee Nicole Brock

      I’m a poor college student in Indiana, too! Rock on ;)

      • http://amandapalmer.net/ Amanda Palmer

        aw. this is the kind of connection that just warms the cockles of my heart. maybe you’ll get married.

  • PolitelyOffend

    I am at Pamplona as I type this,
    Wqhen the towers came down, I was a sixth grader. I was in my English class when my teacher, Mrs Miller, was given a note on a small piece of paper by another teacher. She read it, clapped her hand over her mouth, and swayed before regaining her balance. It was terrifying to us to see an older teacher that distressed.
    She said, “Terrorists…terrorists just flew planes into the World Trade Center….It’s gone…They just destroyed it”
    She was clearly processing the news herself, but the way it was worded made us even more confused. None of us even knew what a terrorist was. Most of us, if not all, knew very little of NYC and had no clue what the World Trade Center was. We thought it was sad, but not a huge deal, since we didn’t recognize half of what she said. The day went on as usual until our principal called an emergency assembly. She told us the same inexplicable thing our teachers had told us with no further explanation, had us say the Pledge of Allegiance and sent us home. There was a strange electricity in the air as many of us walked and ran home. None of us had any clue what had happened or what was going to happen, but we knew it couldn’t be good.
    My best friend at the time, Allie, and i ran to my house, which was a street away from hers. We lived in a small town where planes sometimes flew over, but the only planes flying over were jets and they were flying very low. We were pretty terrified hype that point and just grabbed each other’s hands and ran faster, while squealing and laughing nervously. We finally reached my house and ran through the door.
    My mother was sitting on the edge of the ottoman, slightly hunched over. Her eyes were wide and watching, her jaw had dropped long before we got there. On the tv, they were playing and replaying the footage of the towers coming down. I don’t know if it was the footage or that sick feeling of dread everyone gets when they see their mother panicked or upset, but it finally clicked in my mind what had happened.

    • PolitelyOffend

      Also, the song Truce was not a favorite the first time I heard it. In fact, it wasn’t until last year when I was abandoned by someone I really trusted. It was a friendship that crossed over into trouble-territory when I was dealing with unrelated trauma in my life. The way it ended was cold, bitter, and unnecessary. I watched a video of you performing Truce (actually, it was the video you posted on here) and it made me face what had happened with the aforementioned friend. She lives across the country and we have literally avoided seeing each other by constructing this invisible and unspoken border. Since we were both in the same group of friends, it was bound to end badly. She took a good number of friends and I am holding onto a few of them by a thread. That part of it was easily the most painful. I could deal with having someone who acted horribly to me leave me as a friend (even though it hurt like hell), but not with losing so much of my support system, especially during a time when my family is going through so much loss, heartbreak, and insanity. 
      One of her last statements to me was a (false) accusation that I was unable to handle what had happened with us. She implied that one problem, one lost friend, one lost whatever, could destroy me. But here I am. I actually laughed when she said that because she was the least of what I had to survive that year. There were bigger issues, worse things, bigger threats, than her. I was handling a hostile home situation, my family suddenly imploding, every secret coming out to change my understanding of the people in my family, a public spectacle being made of us, and the general loss of trust in every person I knew. The only reason I was even arguing with her was because she had said something tactless that was not necessarily pointed only at me, but pissed me off nonetheless. I didn’t expect anything more than maybe friendship at the time. That is why the song rang so true to me. We have managed to never cross paths again and I also loved the fact that the song has a parallel between 9/11 and a personal relationship. The idea that in the middle of large scale catastrophe, someone can still remain bitter and expect it to take you down. What these people don’t know is that they spend a lot more energy on remaining angry than you do on it. And they are surprised and upset when you don’t fall to your knees and crawl back.

  • sordiddd

    ‎10 years ago today: I was less than a month from graduation from AIT at Ft. Jackson, SC. I was on KP duty that day. The base went on lockdown and the civilians listened to the radio with the door closed. Spent the whole day not knowing what was going on. Got yelled at by a drill sergeant for not spooning up enough beef stroganoff.
    10 years ago today: Spent the rest of the day serving food, cleaning up, didn’t get back to the barracks til maybe 7pm or later. The rest of our class spent the day in front of the TV and calling their families. That night we stood at attention while our drill sergeant started crying and told us “our people smashed like melons on the pavement”.

  • Meagan

    This has always been my favorite Dolls song, lovely post. Like everyone else, I remember exactly where I was. Having coffee with my mother. I had the morning off work, I had gone to see PJ Harvey in DC the night before. We thought the reports of the 1st plane hitting must have been an accident. My mother and I were so niave to think that the 2nd plane must have been some sort of rescue plane that accidentally hit the other tower. Sigh. Then the Pentagon was hit, and we could see the smoke from our house. My Grandmother was in an old’ folks facility, they had the news on there all day. She, and most of the people on her floor had alzeheimers and even though the smoke was rising from the Pentagon outside the windows, all of those elderly people thought it was a movie. I think, for them, it was for the best. Hard to really muddle through the feelings of that day, still.

  • http://somethingfishyinwanda.wordpress.com Wanda

    Ten years ago, I was eleven and it was a tuesday.
    I was at school. Playing with friends at 10am, learning math, french, that kind of stuff.
    (perhaps it will be useful to say there’s a 6 hours delay between Belgium and NY)
    The weather was clear, bright, a good start for a late summer.
    I don’t remember anything during the school day. Everything was normal, like usual.
    Perphaps….perhaps the teachers knew, we hadn’t television or radio in the building, just the teacher’s gsm.
    But if they knew something, they said nothing.
    I came home at 4pm, maybe 5pm, I don’t remember.
    My mon stood in the kitchen, near the television, she said “Alain (my father’s name), look, look….a plane…hit the building”. We stood there, watching the news, te second plane, the pentagone, then the horror, when the towers collapsed.
    I cried. It was unbelieveable.
    Then, it’s a black hole.
    It’s all I remembered.
    I think, as I was only 11, I may be not understand the full thing. Just….People were dead because some people crash planes in different buildings. And it was sad.
    Now, I can understand the ins and outs but….It make 10 years before I was fully able to understand. And I feel a little bit ashamed of that.
    Perhaps because I wasn’t american.

    Perhaps because there was an ocean between USA and Belgium.

    But I think that, ten years ago, I became American at heart.

    • Zoe

      Your words, exactly.

      I still feel guilty because I can’t fucking remember where I was or how I felt when I learnt about the towers being hit. All I know is that it was a thursday, that I was probably at school, that my mother picked me up after school and took me to the afterschool art class I attended each week. But that’s it. I can’t remember a damn thing although everyone around me can.

      I don’t think I understood a thing at the time, but I also became American at heart right then (I’m French). I still think about 9/11 more than the average French person does, and it still hits me right in the chest every damn time.

  • http://www.Kambriel.com Kambriel

    Back in 2001, my catalogue/website was called “Atrocities” (for years people questioned why I used that name for such “beautiful” creations ~ it was because I believed in transforming the tragic/dark into something beautiful. I’d been considering changing the name for a while, but it was the events of 2001 when I finally made the decision to do so & change it to my own name). 

    The night of Sept. 10, 2001, I’d just uploaded a beautiful new graphic http://twitpic.com/6jjpbx for the front page, announcing my upcoming Middle Eastern themed theatrical fashion show entitled “Arabesque”, complete with fiery-toned, vintage inspired graphics.  After blessedly hearing from my NYC friends that they were rattled, stunned, but alive, as the news began to unfurl, these horrific events were being called “atrocities” across various media… I came out of my frozen state of paralyzed shock long enough to remember the newly re-vamped website.  My show was to be held at ManRay the next month, but the venue cancelled it due to “heightened sensitivities”.  I remember just down the block at the Middle East club, dancers weren’t dancing, musicians weren’t playing… It was awful seeing these “sensitivities” coming out as a form of a kind of acceptable ethnic discrimination against people who were just as horrified at what had been done so offensively in the name of their god as anyone else. 

    I still have the emails from that morning from my NYC friends where they were in a kind of numbed awe, remarking that the world would never again be the same… I was supposed to be working on a client’s wedding dress that day, but couldn’t take my eyes off the horrors on the news… I questioned if weddings would still even happen, could people still focus on love? (The answer was gratefully *yes*.)  A friend of mine was on her first days of duty at the NYPD, and baptized by fire, glass, limbs, as a first responder ~ her lungs still affected to this day, with eyes that saw the horrors many of the rest of us were protectively shielded from.Ultimately, we all just needed to connect that day. Even strangers acted like a kind of quiet friend ~ we were all in this together, and somehow we clung to that as our one stability after feeling like the very ground beneath us had been shaken.  To know those we loved were still with us, to remember not to waste any day… living a vibrant life without fear is the best tribute we can ever give to those whose lives were so brutally cut short.

  • Emiliedoll5

    I was living in L.A. at the time. The morning of the attacks, I sat upright suddenly, at 5:46, with the feeling that something horrible had happened, and that I had to find evryone in my apartment right now. I thought I had just had a nightmare and tried to go back to sleep. My sister called from Connecticut 15 minutes later and told me about the planes hitting the towers. I remember that horrible feeling like it just happened yesterday. I love Truce, but I don’t think I can listen to it today.

  • Timothy Kreuter

    I remember a lot about that day.  I was in my junior year of high school.  It was second period when we got the news.  “Individualized Sports”, which was an elective gym course, and we were outside in the middle of our golf unit.  It was a gorgeous, sunny day, perfect fall weather in the outer Philly suburbs.  It was one of the security officers, the short white guy who was kinda the douchebag of the three, who ran out with a note for us.  Our teacher called us together, “something is going on in NYC, Mr. Stone is going to make an announcement before the period ends, so we are clearing up and going in to change.”  We sat waiting for the announcement. “A plane has flown into the top of the World Trade Center. We don’t know what exactly is going on, but we encourage you to keep going about your classes like normal.  We will update you as we get more information.”

    I later found out why they were so confused too: we found out what was going on around the time the towers collapsed.  Our school had second period Study Hall in the cafeteria, where we had TVs installed.  One of the monitors heard a student turn on the TV, because they wanted to cause a disruption for the monitors.  The monitor went over to shut it off and scold the kid, but she got closer and saw the news, and immediately ran to the security office and principal’s office to let them know.All of the teachers were confused, which we had never seen.  Even in high school, the teachers are supposed to be the ones with the plans, the ones who know what to do.  And they were like us that day, unsure of what to do.  Third period for me was Honors European History, and my teacher said to us “we are going to spend the first half hour talking about this, then we are going to lunch, then when we come back, we HAVE to keep working.”  We talked about who we knew in Washington, who was a pilot, “my uncle works in NYC at the Trade Center,” all of that.  We went to lunch and I sat trying to eat, but just couldn’t tear my eyes off of the TV.

    Fourth period was similar to third, with my British Lit teacher telling us that we had to do our work, but the last 15 or 20 of class she would turn on the radio for us to work on homework and get the news.  After fourth period, we went home and I remember running from my bus stop to my house and turning on the TV.  Food Network was off, MTV was off, everyone was on “We send our support to the men and women who lost their lives in the attacks today” in one form or another.  Though I think the only channels we could get something other than news was Nickelodeon or Disney, but it was a welcome break.  After I got home, I remember also going into the bathroom to do my business, and sat there crying in fear and uncertainty.

    Long comment, sorry.

  • Mayra

    I was twelve. I remember being angry that none of the shows I watched around that time (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed) ran for a whole week because the TV was overrun with news about 9/11. A while later I realized how terrible I was. I still feel guilty about it and I don’t think I’ve seen footage of the attack since then.

    • Julesahtron

       I had a similar reaction. Now I feel guilty for thinking such thoughts. But at that age (as previously mentioned, I was 13), I guess you don’t really get it, you’ve not yet become emotionally mature enough to appreciate the full scale of the horrificness of it all.
      The thing that makes me sick though is all the conspiracy theories, that are so outragous! Some even claiming the second plane was a hologram!? Is that even possible? People posting videos on YouTube, saying stuff like “the reporter didn’t mention a plane, you didn’t see the plane on the camera!” That’s because of the angle it’s shot at, you can’t see it. Bloody morons. Over here in England, I was watching it live, and I certainly remember the second plane hitting, ITV news had an advantageous angle at which you could see it.

  • Hydrophidian

    The first part of my day was spent glued to the TV and to the computer, communicating with people online from all over the country. I had friends in New York and friends in Boston who had friends in New York. It connected me to what was happening, made it real.

    The second part of my day was spent on the phone with a friend who was horrified about it all and terrified for her own life and the lives of her children, because they were Muslim.

  • http://napsinthelibrary.com/ Stina

    I hope it’s all right to post a link here, as this is much too long to just leave in the comments. These are my memories and reflections on 9/11. I was 14 in upstate New York. http://napsinthelibrary.com/2011/09/11/we-havent-forgotten/

  • Timothy Kreuter

    I am glad you not only know this wasn’t your fault, but that you shared this with us. I hope you have healed some form what happened, and that you continue to remember you are not to blame.

  • Poppydragon

    Ironically I was at a conference discussing how we could make the workplace safer, it was on the railway platform on the way home that I picked up from the conversations around me that something had happened and had to go to my parents house as I didn’t own a TV. Still remember that loop of the second plane playing over and over.

  • http://twitter.com/Paisley_67 Paisley

    I was home that morning, looking after my then three year old daughter, and had the morning news on in the background. I remember that my first thought was that it was some sort of bad joke, and next we’d be hearing about King Kong making his way back up the Empire State Building. Then it sunk in and I just started compulsively watching the footage over and over again, like many, many other people.

    After I don’t know how long, my daughter became aware of what was going on and came over to crawl into my lap, asking me why the plane had hit the building. When I replied that I really didn’t know, she shrugged, and in her small way said “Maybe that’s just what planes do.”

    I hugged her tight and said “No, Baby. No, it’s not.”, turned off the tv, and we went for a long walk.

  • verna

    I think it’s amazing how it seems everyone remembers the same exact thing they were doing when it happened, even here, i live in uruguay..a small country in south america, and it’s happened at times i’ve been talking with friends, and everyone can describe with detail what they were doing when it happened. I was at highschool, we had skipped class with my best friend, but we were sitting outside on some stairs, and one of the school staff members came running towards us…and we thought it was because we skipped class, but he was calling us to go listen to the radio with him. I’m not sure if it was creepier because we weren’t seeing it, just hearing a man from the news almost panicking while he described it all, but then when i made it home and watched it on tv, it just felt as if it was something that couldn’t be real.

  • http://twitter.com/siorghra Miranda

    I was 11 years old, in 6th grade science class in upstate NY. There was an announcement over the PA system, but my teacher would not interrupt class or turn on the T.V. because he didn’t want to expose us to it. He carried on extremely bravely, never letting on what a big deal it was except to gently explain to us what had happened. I didn’t understand the significance until Spanish class, when my teacher spent the whole class sobbing, trying to reach her loved ones in NYC. I started shaking and had shredded everything in my binder by the time the class was over. I didn’t realize for many years until my mother pointed out to me that the stress of that day seemed to trigger my depression, taking me from secretly background-depressed to nonfunctional and mentally ill.
    The events that followed have also shaped a lot of my attitudes, including my instinctive dislike of patriotism. I think the attacks and the war taught me that pride in something such as one’s nationality only causes dissonance and violence between those who are differet.I’ve never really thought about 9/11 since that year until today, when @maureenjohnson:twitter posted her blog about that day, living in Queens. I suddenly connected with the story, because I think if I were old enough to process it I would have reacted much the same way. I feel like today I can finally face 9/11/01, mourn it, and move on.
    Truce is brilliant, btw.

  • http://twitter.com/quality_rachni Chloe

    I was representing my school at an inter-school conference in Edinburgh. The atmosphere in there in the afternoon was heavy; the adults all standing around in small clumps talking in low voices, I only heard snatches of their conversations. “Towers…New York…Terrorist attack.” I got home later on that afternoon and my mum was glued to the TV in the living room. “There’s been a terrorist attack on the Twin Towers in New York City.” she told me. I was shocked…I couldn’t watch the images on the screen without crying for those killed in the attack.

    I had always thought that Truce was about a couple who had gone through a divorce, but I did wonder at the lyrics, wondering why they included such phrases “I fall to the ground within moments of impact” and “I am the ground zero around which you orbited.” It’s long been one of my favourite Dolls songs.

  • http://twitter.com/lichtstrom_ Luminous Flux

    I’ll start with the day, here… 2001 was the worst year of my adult life. (I could get into the worst year of my child life, but that’s still too raw for public…)

    2001 saw a dearly loved relative die of brain cancer in March. Then, my sort-of-fiance broke up with me in July and that breakup took a ton of money away from me. Then I developed a major breathing problem… all before having to witness the planes hit the towers from the F train aboveground, and then see those towers fall from downtown Manhattan. I saw way too much of it – even saw those jumpers with my own eyes, as colorful dots racing down the sides of the buildings.

    I felt grateful that the subway was running again by the time I was done at work, since I didn’t have to walk home over the Brooklyn Bridge and several miles into Brooklyn. (I did exactly that a few yrs later during the blackouts). I was so insanely grateful to those subway workers who just kept on keeping on, even after several of their coworkers died in the flood at Cortlandt and in the PATH train.

    I spent most of 2001 in pain but this was the topper. I still have a page up on my website, with photos, that gets a lot of traffic every year.

    I have not been able to deal with ‘Truce” for years (though I didn’t discover you until Yes, Virginia) specifically because it deals with a super-painful breakup along with 9/11, plus it touches upon a source of pain for most of my family – the division of Germany. I know, outside my own head, that it’s a really lovely and profound song, but… no go. You hit me personally without knowing it, and even now I can’t listen to it without feeling the visceral hatred I felt in London, saying “if you ever come to New York City and see me by accident? RUN.”

    Interestingly enough, that bit is still more sore than 9/11. However, for 9/11 I know the bastard that planned it out is now dead.

    • http://twitter.com/FelixMarques Félix Marqués

      In case it is of any kind of help, I’d like to hug you.

      • http://twitter.com/lichtstrom_ Luminous Flux

        Thank you, so much. I will hug you back.

  • SarahBastien1

    I wrote a bit about this and posted a link to it on my twitter, but I was 14 and a freshman in high school on September 11, 2001. I don’t think I even really knew what or where the World Trade Center was; even though I was in high school, my worldview hadn’t really expanded beyond my own circumstances- but I did live in a Maryland community a short Metro ride away from Washington D.C. and the Pentagon. When the planes hit the Towers and the Pentagon, I was in choir class, where we were preparing for a community event later in the month. The songs we were practicing for this event were about peace.

    I remember thinking how strange it was to have been singing peace songs together, only minutes before an intercom announcement telling teachers to check their email, so they could individually tell us that a tragic attack had taken place. Everything about that moment, and after, was so surreal.

  • http://twitter.com/VictoriaPyrrhi JEB

    Our neighboring teacher busted into our little blue asbestos infested AP History class. We crowded through into the other classroom at his insistence to watch the second tower get hit. It was surreal, and it didn’t feel real.

    I didn’t have anyone in the area, but my friends and teachers did, and I was so detached, watching them, tense and panicked. I knew what was going on, that everything was going to change, but I don’t think I understood how much.

    I was 16, and it doesn’t feel like 10 years. I’m still mad it happened, but I’m more made that I let myself get caught up in all the rage and hatred that followed. My heart goes out to all the people who lost loved ones, and to all the people whose lives were ruined by bigotry and suspicion and just…all the hate.

  • http://geniicucullati.wordpress.com @aimutiny

    I completely understand the anger that some people feel about the lack of mourning for victims of American foreign policy, compared to 9/11. But that’s exactly the reason I get chills every time I see the footage. It’s the event itself, of course. But it’s also the chain of events it triggered. It’s possible to mourn for many, many things simultaneously. I always feel like I’m mourning for the hundreds of thousands of innocent people who would be killed as a (direct or indirect, depending on your outlook) consequence of the event, as well as the people killed on the day, the attacks that would take place in London and Madrid, the widespread racism and Islamophobia that was created, the erosion of civil liberties that took place both in the US and elsewhere, and the fact that the systems, attitudes and structures that caused the attack are completely unchanged, so something similar will undoubtably happen again. That’s what I’m mourning for.

    • http://twitter.com/lichtstrom_ Luminous Flux

      Absolutely. I remember being seriously worried about the folks who ran the little deli down the street from me. I remember going in and telling them that they could come to my place if anything went wrong. I remember being really, really saddened at the fact that it *was* a possibility.

    • anon

      Did you watch the footage of the 911 call? I’m usually a heartless bitch, but even that made me upset.

  • Abregaza

    I’m Australian and I was watching the West Wing with my flatmates while we were doing our uni homework – in the last commercial break they cut to a news bulletin and said a bomb had gone off in the World Trade Centre and they’d be back with more information after the show finished… then all hell broke loose.

    We sat up all night (and all the next day) in horror watching the world as we knew it disintegrate – we were under our airport flight path and the next day I remember watching people out the window duck for cover every time a plane went over.  

    Today I’m in London and I was listening to them read out the names of those who I basically watched die 10 years ago and as I cried all I remembered the people on my sightseeing tour this morning who were talking about two women wearing burkas on the street.

    “It’s wrong that they wear those THINGS.  Look at THEM they’re holding hands.  Disgusting.  Wearing those face coverings is what gives those people a bad name.  They’re just evil.”

    Still so much ignorance in the world.  The world changed that day, for better or worse, but a piece of clothing or a religious belief doesn’t make you evil.  Hate, fear, ignorance, exclusion, greed, persecution, lack of respect for life, choice, freedom… well – i’m not convinced the combination of those things doesn’t make you evil. 

    It’s been a funny all day.

    • Jebus Jones

      Holy crap, that’s almost exactly what I was doing! I was watching West Wing as well (second last ep of season 2 where Mrs Landingham died) when they cut to the footage of the first tower burning. I saw the second plane hit and forgot all about The West Wing.

      Couldn’t belueve and was saying to my housemates how this was gonna be bad, very bad, for more than just America.

      Such a bizarre night, it now feels strange to think there actually was a time before terrorism was such a monumental part of Western psyche.

  • Rhyska

    I’m from Russia. The news were broken to me by my grandma’s good friend, whom we accidentally met on the street. I remember I was listening to Christina Aguilera’s christmas album at that time. I don’t know why I had the strange urge to get it, but I saw it in the store and bought it and gave it a listen.  So I came home, watched the news and thought “Well, then. We saw things like these in the movies, now we have them live. Terrible.” To comfort myself I listened to the christmas album again. I also remember the thing being widely discussed in school the next day. In a russian school. By russian  students. The impact was huge.  

  • KristyBaldwin

    I was a senior in High School in northern NJ. We had heard in gym class and assumed it was just some idiot who didn’t know how to fly or perhaps a drunk pilot, at 17 years old the word terrorist was not a part of my lexicon. As soon as I stepped into History class, my teacher started talking about Al Qaeda and we were absolutely clueless. We watched thevsecond plane hit, live, right there in a class totles American History. They let us out of school early and I sped home to inform my parents, who both worked night shifts. When I walled in the TV was already on, and they had heard. I asked if we knew anyone working in NYC, the answer was thankfully no. I then sped to my church, as I was quite religious at the time. By noon there were at least 40 people praying, kneeling, and crying. I joined them. A few days later I organized a blood drive at my school to try and feel like I could help in some way. The Red Cross called me to cancel because they didn’t need anymore blood. There weren’t enough survivors. A year later, attending as a freshman at Monmouth U, I remember a candlelight vigil being held and students weeping over lost parents and loved ones. I cried for them and out of gratitude that my mother was alive and well. The day itself seems so vivid yet quite foggy and hard to recall, but my faith in god has never been the same.

  • Christine

    I was working at a bank in upstate NY, and my very best friend worked in
    DC very close to the Pentagon.  I remember someone running into our
    department saying there were plane crashes at the Trade Center, and we
    all ran into the board room and about 50 of us crowded around the tv. 
    When I heard about the plane hitting the Pentagon I had never been so
    scared in all my life.  I ran through the building, back to my desk, my
    phone was already ringing. I thank God every day it was her, telling me
    she was ok, they couldn’t leave their office, but they were all ok.  I
    got a good phone call that day, so many others were not that lucky.  So
    many people I know had their lives ripped apart.  The first day after
    the attacks I heard a plane overhead I had a panic attack.  But we go
    on, we get stronger and we use events of the past to make things
    better.  I still believe that can happen.  We can make this world

  • OtherAmanda

    it was a beautiful day. we had just had a week of nonstop rain and dark clouds. I couldn’t get over just how much I loved seeing the sun and the bright blue sky again. I was waiting for my husband to get back from his yoga class so we could spend time together before our 4 and 2yo kids woke up. I turned on the tv to catch the morning news, which was quickly interrupted by a shot of smoke billowing out of one of the Twin Towers. it was a clear day in NYC that morning as well, so I was confused how the hell a plane made such a mistake and ran into a building. not long after, my husband pulled up and I ran out to tell him what I’d just seen. we watched for a bit in confusion. then the other tower was hit live. we both knew then this was on purpose. 

    as we heard about other strikes and missing planes, we panicked. we didn’t know what was going to happen. we only knew that this was real. our kids woke up, but they didn’t know anything was going on. my 2yo daughter was in her own world and my 4yo son was excited to see airplanes and NYC, two of favorite things, on tv. I had to be brave for them. 

    today, I’m in the same place I was. things are pretty much the same as they were then. everything sort of went to sleep for me. however, this morning I woke up at exactly 8:46am. it’s a gorgeous much like it was 10yrs ago. the strange thing is, it feels like everything is waking up again.

  • http://twitter.com/tadjemiii Jesse Markham

    I was home, exhausted from working at a busy late night restaurant, when I stumbled on a channel with an image of the first tower on fire. I saw the second plane hit and knew it was a terrorist attack then. It was dreadful yet fascinating, but my body won out.  I didn’t believe the towers would collapse. I remember thinking; “Those fires look awfully bad,” before I let myself pass out, and learned they had fallen after I woke up.

  • TarValanion Tolliniion

    I was in a small town of France, just trying to buy a new cellphone.  It was the middle of the afternoon for us. I didn’t understand why the salesman wouldn’t come to me instead of staying in front of his TV, watching some disaster movie.  I bought what I wanted to buy, and before i went out of the store, the friend who was wth me asked if I had seen the thing on tv. The salesman said that it was crazy. We looked at it and learned about what happened. I remember coming out of the store and seeing the people of the town living their lives as if nothing had happened. Most of them didn’t know about it. The world had just changed and they didn’t know about it. They just kept going on, in blissful ignorance, on that sunny day.

    I remember talking about it on the internet with some people I knew then. I remember that there was some fights, some different ideas about what had happened, and how and why.

    I especially remember 10 days later, in Toulouse, one of the biggest town in France. Around 10 in the morning, there was a really big explosion. For a lot of people, the first thought was : “‘They’ crashed a plane on our town”. Other side of the world, not really similar town, but we thought that same thing had happened. The terror had been  ingrained in us. That’s how we know that the terrorists have won.

    Now, ten years later, I know that on that day, on 9/11, the terrorists won. They put the fear in us. They made us abandon liberty in order to get security. They lead us to war.

  • Molly

    I was eleven. I went to school as usual, and passed by the school library for a few minutes before class to look for new magazines with Tobey Maguire on the front cover. They had televisions set up, and all of them were turned on. I glanced at one on my way past, and saw a woman stumbling while the rubble-strewn street she was on shook. I thought vaguely that there must have been an earthquake or something somewhere (I lived in California), and kept on walking. 

    I figured out that something was Seriously Wrong when I went to my first class and not five minutes into the morning announcements my teacher started crying. She didn’t keep talking, she just stood there, in front of us all, and cried. There was somebody else in the room–not a teacher, but an administrator, or someone, who was clearly there just in case this happened–who jumped in and told us to read through our workbooks–really sternly, like we’d all done something wrong, while she kept crying in the background. 

    Of course we didn’t go through our workbooks. We whispered, we passed notes, and we were all eleven so no one had the slightest idea what was happening–most people thought it was something in New York, but some people were throwing out other ideas: it’s Washington, it’s the White House, it’s L.A., it’s downtown. It was a plane-crash. A plane-accident. No, it was on purpose. There was a BOMB. There was an ATOMIC BOMB. There was going to be a war.

    I went home, and I didn’t want to talk about it. It freaked me out that my mom was walking around with tears in her eyes, that my dad was talking slow and quiet, that the telephone wouldn’t stop ringing, that the television had footage the buildings falling down, over and over, and nothing else, no matter how many times I changed the channel. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to understand, I didn’t want to know what was going on, I wanted Sabrina the Teenage Witch to come back on the television and for everything else to go away. My mom tried to hug me, I pushed her off. 

    I went upstairs to my room, slammed the door, and very methodically, I went to my bookshelf and started ripping my books up. I was a reader, I loved my books. I tore “A Swiftly Tilting Planet” into four pieces, threw them against the opposite wall, and moved on from there. My mom came in, asked me why I was doing that. I didn’t know. I was crying. I hadn’t been crying until I’d had to speak, to tell her I didn’t know why I was tearing my books apart by their spines. Are you crying because of all those people? she asked me. I said, really angrily, NO. I’m crying because I have to be a different person now. I’m still not totally sure what I meant by that. It’s just what came out of my mouth. 

    • http://angryyoungwomanblog.blogspot.com confirmed spinster

      I didn’t start crying until I read this.  This brought it all back.

  • Clarabelle

    I was working in an office overlooking the runway at Heathrow. For some reason I’d called in sick that day & got a text message from a friend that just said, “turn on your tv”.
    I watched, and watched, and watched, and didn’t get dressed all day.

    A couple of years previously, I had begun posting on the official Radiohead board (where I was also introduced to Amanda’s music when someone insisted I cone to the Union Chapel because “you remind me of AFP” – which is still the biggest compliment I think I’ve ever had!). Anyway back then we were just a handful of dorks in offices but people dated, people got married having met on there, there are board kids and everything; a lot of them were in NYC and many of us visited each other etc. We were close knit. Still are.

    I remember people using the board to check in & say they were ok, get people outside the city to pass on messages to their friends & even relatives because phone service was sketchy. There were regular roll calls of which NY boardies had been heard from. One guy who worked downtown came on to say he was safely home but that he’d seen …pieces of people fall past his office window. That was what stuck with me most, that one comment.

    I think it was pretty amazing to see an online community be there for each other & help where they could in the face of such a horrible thing. In some ways my overriding memory is of the power we had as a group just being able to show each other love on that day.

    • Clarabelle

      Oh, and the runway at work was silent for weeks. All the AmerIcan Airlines planes just sat in a row on the Tarmac opposite our office window.

  • Rhyska

    I also wanted to say that I INSANELY INSANELY LOVE the moment in “Truce” where you sing I’M ONTO YOU I’M ONTO YOU for the 2nd time. 

  • http://www.facebook.com/people/Flor-San-Roman/100000457660010 Flor San Roman

    My story is boring. In California, the radio alarm clock got me out of bed and into the living room to watch TV instead of into the bathroom to take a shower.

    But my heart was so…  that words don’t… and I have many friends, particularly out here in California who felt the same way, all heart and choking, huge eyes, shaking hands… and how do you explain that?  We do it with theatre.  My company did this What the Moon Saw.  we just opened it, I saw it Friday night and cried so hard and laughed and wanted to hug everyone on the planet.

    The reality of it is just too much.  We can’t get enough words to say everything that comes to mind, so use toys and window frames, boots filled with sand, children’s stories and a woman playing the accordian…and we get a little closer to explaining ourselves.

    • http://www.facebook.com/people/Flor-San-Roman/100000457660010 Flor San Roman

      Amanda, I forgot one funny note of coincidence: the play we’re doing was originally workshopped in NYC (the only prior production) and the music was by none other than Sxip Shirey!  We’re using different music but it was a detail I caught at the bottom of our program that made me jump.  }:>

  • Maria Patenaude

    I was living in Puerto Rico at the time. I was in college, but I remember paying more attention to my writing than my school work. We didn’t own a computer at home, so I was in the computer room of the university library at the time that the planes struck the towers, and oblivious to everything but to my proof-reading and the music I was listening to (which was a demo on which my then-boyfriend wanted my input).

    I left the computer room to go to choir, but I never made it that day. As I passed into the lobby, I noticed that the TV was on, with volume… That was a first. There were 20 or so students gathered, staring at the news, so I stopped to see what was going on. First I saw the smoke, then heard something about the flaming, smoking holes in the side of the buildings being from planes having crashed into them. It took a moment for me to realize they meant it had been done on purpose, and another moment to realize I was looking at NYC. I was still frowning in confusion when the first tower suddenly collapsed. I started crying, fell to my knees, kept saying “Oh my God!” over and over, and “Those poor people!”

    Everyone stared at me. At first I thought it was because I was speaking English… but the news was in English, too, and they seemed to know what they were hearing and seeing. They just weren’t reacting. I ran out of the library and frantically called by boyfriend’s cell phone. My best friend lived in New Jersey but worked in NYC and I was starting to lose it. I got my boyfriend’s voicemail and left a frantic message, then went to find my mom, who was attending the same university at the time. She had heard the news second-hand, but was almost as panicked as I was. Both of my brothers and most of their friends were/are in the military, so there were a lot of people we were scared for. She agreed that we should go home.

    We watched the news all day, crying and holding hands, and every couple of hours I’d try to reach my boyfriend. I didn’t have my friend’s number (the move had been very recent) or any way to see if she’d emailed me. She managed to call me for a moment in the late afternoon to let me know she was okay but very busy; she worked at CNN and they were in information overload. I was still worried that my boyfriend hadn’t called; in my experience most bad things happen in threes, and I thought something unrelated may have happened; he never went a whole day without responding. I finally got through to him around 8pm.

    He was all right, of course. He couldn’t figure out what I was so frantic about. He’d heard it all on the radio, of course… “But you Americans were just asking for that to happen, you know.” I was appalled. We didn’t last long after that remark, I assure you. I thought it was a fluke. Random lack of Americanism, since Puerto Ricans are all American by default. I was wrong. They protested the war by trying to tip my mother’s car over (with her inside) because she had a “Proud Navy Parent” bumper sticker. People would randomly throw things at us in public and yell “Gringos go home!” I’d never felt 100% happy in PR, but I’d always been able to tolerate the small things. After 9/11, all I could think about was getting home to Massachusetts. A year and a half ago, I achieved that goal.

    My current boyfriend is half Cuban & half Puerto Rican. He refers to himself as American, always. He was in Syracuse on 9/11, also in college, and he says when he was home in Puerto Rico the summer after there were still more American flags than he’d ever seen on the island before. He grew up near San Juan; I grew up in the rural south west. No one experience is the same for everyone involved. I’m just glad that my brothers are safe, their friends are all still alive (though some of them will never be the same after the Pentagon cleanup and serving in Iraq & Afghanistan) and no one I knew personally lost anyone they loved that day.

    Ten years later, though, I only have to see the numbers 9/11 for my eyes to well up and my throat to close. For me, at least, the world will simply never feel the same.

    [And yes, I always knew what “Truce” was about.]

    • http://forhumanrights.wordpress.com/ Kris

      MANDY! How strange to be reading this and then see an unexpected friend. :)

      I was at work –  I had a payroll job then and had to keep working regardless. If we didn’t make our 5pm deadline we’d have had 2000 people beating our door down that Friday because they hadn’t been paid. I don’t know how we kept it together but we did. Went to yoga class that night – we had a slow, contemplative, healing class. There wasn’t anyplace else I’d have wanted to be.

      In the turmoil that followed, my biggest fear was that in responding to the attacks, we would become the very evil we feared if we weren’t careful. The jury’s still out on that one.

  • Laura D.

    My husband and I were out shopping. We didn’t have internet or tv where we were staying and town was strangely quiet. We went into a store and in the electronics department, there was footage of the first tower hit. I thought it was a disaster movie, only the news ticker seemed strange. I watched the second tower hit with the electronics clerk and went and had to go find my husband. “Something bad is happening. We need to go home.” We paid and left and I called my mom.

    The thing I remember most is how quiet it was outside.  No traffic, no children, no planes. Just the animals and the wind. I sat outside for hours, listening to nothing.

    • Samaire

      I remember that too.    No one went outside.  It was as still as death outside, everywhere.  I went into the city, into San Diego, a few days afterwards, it was silent and mostly deserted.   People were almost afraid of going outside.   I kept looking up.

  • Samaire

    When I heard about 9/11 it was because my mother called me to tell me about it as it was happening.  At the time I was almost 8 months pregnant, in an incredibly abusive marriage and in a backwards town with no tv, no radio.     Less than 2 months later my baby would be stillborn at full term.   It was a season of death for me.

  • Tina Gleason

    Reading through these comments, I just remembered one of the first things I had thought when I watched the first tower come down on TV: I was /there/. Just a few months earlier, on the 4th of July, sick, but watching the world from the top of the second tower. The thought that a little piece of the world that I had physically stood on&in was destroyed in such a horrific, violent way was so completely incomprehensible. 
    I had been college student in Westchester, NY that fall, commuting from the other side of the Hudson River over the Tappan Zee bridge. I skipped my first class that morning (Western Civ), and was standing with my hand on the screen door knob, about to start the drive too school when my dad (from upstairs) and my uncle (from downstairs) yelled at me to stop. I watched everything happen from that moment on. I remember the news anchors sounding so confused and desperate and terrified.I remember everyone calling each other, checking in with friends in college in NY and DC. A friend came over and we sat together in my room, watching, as she realized she had almost certainly lost a family member that day. And now, listening to an arrangement of William Basinski’s “Disintegration Loops” end on the radio, the day feels this way, an imperfect transfer that only becomes more imperfect over time. 

  • NotAmerican

    I was 11 years old. I was in school. I don’t remember a whole lot about it, but the teachers seemed very strange and then we were sent home early. I went down to the restaurant where my mum was working, where a whole lot of people from the town had gathered in front of the television. I just remember the silence in that room, the shock on peoples faces. I was there when the second plane struck. I only started crying when they showed footage of the people jumping from the upper floors. 

    A part of me is glad only to remember fleeting glimpses of that day – but it’s still the most vivid memory of mine from that age. 

  • http://www.facebook.com/people/Josiah-Spenner/100000175380758 Josiah Spenner

     I was eight. I remember not knowing what had happened. I only remember how silent the world seemed. The School staff, my family, and the world just turned off their mouths for a bit. Everyone had an existential pause. It was hauntingly beautiful.

  • Aimee

    I was 9 when it happened, and fast asleep. I woke up for some unknown reason in the middle of the night and sat on the couch watching the news and holding my knees because even though I’d never heard about the world trade centre, nor did I know what was happening, I knew it was something big, and that people were hurting. My parents didn’t tell me to go back to bed, they just sat there, watching with me. I think my mother paced through the kitchen for a bit. I was old enough to see this. My younger sister slept through the whole thing.
    The scariest part of that night was going to bed thinking that the world was going to end while I slept. I was convinced of it. For a long time. And my parents had to be so strong, like so many other parents, and told me that everything was fine and that no one was going to die if I went to sleep.
    The whole thing affected everyone a lot more than they realise, I think. Everyone in the whole world. There’s no changing it anymore, and it’s strange to think that there’s 10 year olds who weren’t alive when any of this happened, children that don’t remember what the world was like before everyone was afraid. 
    But everyone has a different story and everyone remembers what they were doing when they found out what happened, and I think that brings us all together, somehow. Everyone can think back to that exact moment, and remember how much they cared for everyone, and who was in their thoughts when they thought the worst had happened. 

  • Penny Dreadful

    I was fifteen, sitting in chemistry class when I first heard. I watched the second tower fall. Found out later I was actually singing America the Beautiful for a choir practice that morning at the exact moment the first plane hit. I was a naive, smalltown girl who was a practicing Evangelical Christian (though in my deepest heart I knew it wasn’t true) and going through my first depressive episode.

     At first I thought it was a movie. I didn’t know what the WTC was, but I knew the Pentagon, having seen it a few years before.I “came of age” during the post 9/11 chaos, and thus I became politically aware overnight. I remember my mother reprimanding me for crying since I didn’t know anyone in NYC. I began to question what I had always been told. I challenged the adults in my life for the first time (I was not a rebellious child). I was terrified of war, and when my stepfather told me it would only last three weeks, I told him I knew that was a lie. He still won’t talk to me about that. I remember being disgusted for the first time by the mass consumerism I saw hit the United States directly after the attacks. No one in my area listened to me, but I didn’t understand how buying flag stickers helped anyone. I found solace in music, like I usually do. I honestly believe that 9/11 and the aftermath helped me deconstruct and break away from some of my own personal prisons I was in at the time. I still wish it hadn’t happened, but it helped me become an active player in the politics and culture of not only my town or my country, but the world.

  • Fiona Hogarth

    I was 11. I’d just walked back from school to where I was meeting my Mum so she could drive me home and she was listening to the radio. I can remember not thinking that it was a big deal until I got home and actually saw images of what had happened, I must have thought that it was only a tiny plane. I don’t think that it really hit me until I was a bit older and I was watching a documentary on what had happened where people who had managed to get out were talking about their experiences. I think 7/7 in London actually had more of an effect on me as I was old enough to know that it was real.

  • totalfrog

    I was 21 and packing to move out of my parents’ house. It was late at night here (I’m Australian) and my mother knocked on my bedroom door and asked me to come and watch the news with her.

    After we heard about the Pentagon I remember saying to her that this is the start of World War 3 and she agreed. It scared me because she was always telling me to not be so paranoid, to not be so pessimistic and cynical and she was agreeing with me that we were watching the end of the world as we knew it.

  • Bill Wisner

    I had just gotten home from work.  I worked nights in those days, shelving books for a bookstore chain that is currently beating its last heartbeats.

    My grandmother had died on September 8.  I was going to try to get a couple hours of sleep before going to her funeral.  I stripped and climbed into bed.  As my eyes started to close, and sleep tried to claim me, there was a knock on my bedroom door.  It was my uncle.

    “Someone’s flown a plane into the World Trade Center.”

    I threw some clothes on, and reached the living room just in time to see the second plane hit.

    It would be many hours before I slept again…

  • Ellice

    Truce has always been my favorite Dresden Dolls songs. Or just one of my favorite songs in general. It is so powerful. Every time I listen to it I end up crying or singing along at the top of my lungs. I have always considered the best of any type of art the kinds that stir up any emotion. 

    I was in 4th grade at the time. I had stayed home sick that day and my mom would always buy us something special for breakfast when we were sick. On the way back home we heard about on the radio. I had no idea what a big deal it was. I remember thinking that people die like this all around the world all the time, and everyone was just so upset because it was happening in America. After going home and watching the footage over and over again I felt bad for thinking those things. When I got home I just laid on the couch watching the news for house and bawling the whole time. 

  • foo

    Now that you say it, I can hear the towers fall in the beginning of the song. Truly beautiful song.

  • http://verbdump.blogspot.com/ Andy

    I was homeschooled, but my freshman year of High School I took a couple of classes online, so I was waiting for my Grammar class to start on a chat program. The teacher was late, and so we students were just chatting. One of the other kids said something about the World Trade Center being hit by an airplane, but I thought he was kidding because that was the sort of joke one of us would have made.

    I’m pretty sure the teacher never showed up for class, and if she did I wasn’ t there because my mom came in and turned on the living room TV to the live feed. I was watching by the time the second plane hit. And I just remember sitting there and being sure it was the start of a third world war.

    I didn’t expect the anniversary to have all that much impact on me, to be honest. I mean, 9/11 is one of those things that is in my thoughts half of the year, because of people still using and abusing its memory. But my favorite radio DJ put on a montage of audio from that day, and it just rushed back to me, the feeling of watching it fall and feeling the world change in such a huge way.

  • http://twitter.com/editrickiness Heather

    I had woken up late and was half asleep when I got a voicemail from a
    friend on her way back from Peru saying, “I guess you heard about the
    World Trade Center. They grounded our plane in Texas, can you watch my
    cats until I get back?” I didn’t know where the WTC was and thought a
    big car bomb had probably gone off somewhere, like in Oklahoma. So I
    stumbled off to work without turning the TV on and when I got in to the
    office the radio was blaring top volume. There we were, isolated in the
    middle of nowhere with nothing but the radio, describing what was
    happening, over and over again. I saw the towers fall a million times
    before I saw any footage. I lived next to a small airport and when I got
    home that night the eeriest thing was not hearing planes fly by. It was
    a weird, silent, alien America for a few weeks, and it was also the
    start of War as a theme in this life.

  • http://twitter.com/KeiKunGuitar Peter Bergstrom

    Guess that makes me 12 when 9/11 happened, i remember being at school in a writing class, i remember my teacher coming in late to class we were wondering what was happening or if we were going to get the period free. There was an excitement about that, getting out of class and doing nothing, a students favorite thing to do. She came in, she composed her self pretty well, there was a tone to her voice that i hadn’t heard before, not from her anyway. The kinda tone you use when telling someone something bad, which fit since it was something bad. There was a mixed response from the students as expected of kids our age, some got it some were looking for an excuse and were disconnected from it.
    Personally I felt a different kind of disconnected from 9/11. I didn’t know how to feel. I guess it felt too unreal that i couldn’t grab a hold of it, ya know? Like it was a work of fiction come to life. Like everything was going to be normal the next day. And from a little town in Ashland, MA, life went on. No one was happy and there was an air all around that felt heavy. The atmosphere changed, but life resumed.
    The one thing i remember speaking to my parents about was how they carried the news on, hours, days, and weeks after it had happened. I didn’t like it, i felt it was wrong to report about it, or rather HOW they reported it to the people. That it’d upset the families of the people that had been killed. Thinking back on it now 10 years later, some people needed to know, it wasn’t pleasant but it needed to be talked about. HOWEVER, i don’t think they needed to show a re-run of the event as often as they did from the many angles it was captured from, forwards, backwards and in slo-mo. It was a bit much.

    On that day, a product was born. It wasn’t war, it wasn’t hate, it wasn’t airport security(though that happened too). It was compassion. It was unity. We as a people comforted one another. Sadly, i don’t think that unity lasted very long. I’d like that compassion from the public, from complete strangers, from noble hearts more often, and i’d like it to exist without a tragedy.
    The greatest thing is that compassion does still exist, it isn’t on such a grand scale. I think this community around AFP is a gathering of that spirit. The Safe Haven. The Oasis. The very reason Amanda Palmer needs monuments erected in her name! I wonder how many more groups like this there are out there.

  • grr_rar

    As a young woman I had lived in NY, like most Americans seem to at some stage in their lives. I had, in fact, given birth to my daughter in a grubby hospital in Jersey City, but left the area soon after for the succour and support of home. I loved the World Trade Center and dreamed of having the money to have a meal at the Windows On the World Restaurant. I loved coming up out of the bowels of the subway on the escalator into the white brightness of the lobby before going out into the streets of downtown. 

    I was in Sydney, working my way through a murky separation from my husband. My 10 year old daughter, who had woken up early to watch cartoons before school, woke me at 6:30 AM (Australian time difference) and told me that the Empire State Building had fallen down. Thinking she must be watching some sci fi movie I went down to the living room, greeted by the collision of the real and surreal. By this stage they were playing the footage of what had already happened, so the shock of watching the first plane hit was rapidly supplanted by the horror of the second plane. And the utter disbelief and nausea when the towers fell. The numbness by the time the Pentagon and Shanksville footage rolled, all in such quick succession. I called family in the States, relaying love across the wires, and held my kids close. I don’t think I let them watch the footage after my daughter woke me up but I honestly can’t remember. I remember the sadness knowing that this would affect and inform the shape of their lives.

    We ended up over at my husband’s apartment. Our separation was difficult but we were working hard to keep our parenting relationship solid. He was compassionate and sorry and supportive, all of the things that were harder to come by in the mundanity of daily married life. I grew more generous. It thawed some of the cold. That day was a horrific day for anyone who loves. But it was also a day that really, keenly allowed you to feel that love even more viscerally than before, and to hold it tight to you, and also to release it.(grr_rar on twitter, but it won’t let me sign in)

  • Jessica87

    I was 14 and was awoken by my Grandmother with the words, “We are under attack”. I awoke to find my family watching this awful event play out on tv, each saying something different. My Granddad claimed it had only been a matter of time until we were attacked and my Aunt proclaimed, “this will be the end of us”. Among all the sad, far from positive words, I stepped outside with my then three year old cousin. He played among the grass and trees and I looked up to a still, clear blue sky and wondered what was going to happen next. I thought of all those people who had died.

    Living in the south, I have seen a lot of people who fit the stereotype some cast on us and then also many far from it. In the following years I would see both and often be surprised in the form they’d take. I would see a young man call me a “traitor” for the anti-war pin on my purse. I’d see an older lady come up and hug me for that same pin. I can safely say nothing was truly the same as before, even in my little town.

  • http://twitter.com/Chelseyblair Chelsey Blair

    My story about 9/11 always feels wrong and impersonal to me.
     I was twelve, and I didn’t get it. All my associates about the day are stupid, selfish ones. Not understanding why my former Navy officer teacher was upset. The girl in my class who asked why, if Bin Laden was s rich, we didn’t bomb his mansion. My sister telling me that because we had two bases nearby, we’d be next. George Bush saying “terrorist” wrong. My obsession with that stupid flash-animated Madblast “Come Mr. Taliban” song when I barely even knew who Colin Powell was. Now it’s about so much more to me. I’ve been to New York and love it. I’ve heard stories from people who were there. Father Mychael Judge is one of my biggest heroes. 

    It still feels impersonal.

    But then I think about the fact that I didn’t get it, and what resonates is the fear that came from that. The fear of uncertainty that comes when you’re a kid and all the adults are completely freaked out and you don’t quite get why. 

    And it’s that that ties me to September 11th in the same way every American is tied.

    Because in every story there’s the fear.

    And that fear, in a way made us stronger.

    But in a way is exactly what the Taliban wanted. And that’s what scares me most of all.

  • Danielle

    I was only 6 or 7, in elementary school, so I don’t remember it very well at all. I remember that our teacher and every other adult that came into the room seemed upset, but I don’t think any of us paid any attention to it. No one told us anything about it at all, probably because we were so young and wouldn’t understand, but only get scared and confused. A few of the kids were pulled out of class by their parents, but I don’t think any of us kids thought that it was anything unusual.

    Talking about it with my mom now, I realize what a terrible day it was. I know that my father was working in Grand Central, which isn’t too terribly far from the World Trade Center. I can’t even imagine how worried my mother and grandparents were, (and I would have been) knowing that he was there but that they couldn’t get in touch with him. I realize now how extremely lucky I am that he wasn’t out getting a coffee, or that it wasn’t Grand Central that was a target. I also can’t imagine how incredibly scary it must have been for my father, who was experiencing all of it but who knew less than all of my family at home who were watching it on TV.

    My heart goes out to anyone who has lost a loved one on this same day ten years ago. 

  • Runtimes33

    My memories are neither original nor admirable. I was living in Boston,
    going to college and working full time at an engineering co-op job. I
    was hung over, having stayed out drinking too late the night before. I
    was extremely late heading to work nursing a justly deserved throbbing
    headache. I was listening to Howard Stern on the radio talking about how
    he had been to Scores with Pamela Anderson the night before and had
    gotten her to kiss him. She was on the phone confirming the story.

    Then everything changed. I spent the rest of the morning alternating
    between sitting at my desk listening to the radio or gathered around a
    grainy tiny cheap tv that one of the union guys had in his machine shop.
    I kept my headphones on listening to the events unfold from the
    perspective of the stern show  – they were right there in New York, and
    had people watching every news station possible. So they would provide
    updates before even my computer could refresh the news websites. The
    whole office was in shock – nothing got done. The worst part was hearing
    the triage centers that were set up in expectation of injured people to
    be sent there – and the shock when reports came in barely anyone was
    being treated. Many discussions arose about how/why the towers fell so
    fast. You cannot have a room full of engineers and not initially question the
    science/fact behind what happened.

    We all had to stay at work the full day, our path home to the city was
    blocked by police/FBI/etc. Apparently the terrorists that had originally
    left from Maine had stayed at this ordinary plain hotel set right off
    Route 9 a few days before. I had driven past that hotel hundreds of time
    never paying attention.

  • http://twitter.com/anagenesis4E Quark

    I was 12. The only thing I really remember from that day was hearing that something had happened in New York a little bit ago before heading off to school. I think by that time the first plane had hit (I live in Mountain Time), but I didn’t think much of it. Later, in my band class, my teacher put of the TV (I believe that the second plane had hit by now), and then we all just watched. I had a vague sense of worry because most of my family lives somewhere in New York. My grandfather lives in Queens and works in the city. (He was fine. I didn’t lose anyone I knew.) 

  • Nenaslug

    I was 20. I had flown from my parents’ house in Southern CA to my friend Mandy’s house in the SF Bay Area on the night of Sept 10th. I woke up on the morning of 9/11 to Mandy telling me that someone blew up the WTC. I got up and together we watched the 2nd plane hit. We ended up sitting there all day; our eyes glued to her father’s big screen. I remember thinking it looked like a movie. I just couldn’t absorb that it was real. We were supposed to go to San Francisco that day to fight a traffic ticket she got, but they closed all the courts and gov’t offices, and excused all minor offenses, including her ticket. So we just continued watching the footage over and over still not comprehending this was real, but also knowing everything would change. I also remember how quiet it was outside with all the planes grounded. I will never forget that day. And even now I can see that footage in my head on repeat. I didn’t know anyone who died that day, but it still affected me deeply.

  • http://twitter.com/WolfgangPrice Wolfgang Price

    I was 14 I believe. And was woken up early that day to go to a church class, the day starting off miserably as usual, being a misfit and exposed to people I was nothing like who had that great just-into-high school mentality of judgement they were practicing. Bad day, went home, turned on the news while we made breakfast, and sat down. The first tower had already been hit. There are bizarre moments that you know are real because there is a world out there, and things are happening far away, where you can’t touch, and here, and now, you are being reminded of it. I saw the second plane hit live. Watched the towers fall. I’d always loved the two towers, the visual aesthetic, had always been incredible to me, my favorite part of the NY skyline, even if it was just in pictures. Suddenly it became sinister to even duplicate that image, to make it seem like two obelisks could exist.

    I went to school and into my strings class, and the teacher told us all very plainly, that we had to keep going. She was not a person I respected, I found her ridiculous. But yet, she was the one who sat us down and said, this is not going to get better, and this is going to be hell for everyone. And now we must pick up our bows and play.I tried writing songs back then about it. But the ones that ended up coming about to me said it exactly right.
    Today, I finished reading Virginia Woolf’s “The Waves.” And I couldn’t think of anything more fitting: a tale about our inner turmoil and joys through life, and how we are each other, in death, even. And how there is no such thing as solitude, or separation. Just we faces, pressing in on each other, creating not individual lives, but beautiful, complicated stories.
    So those are my thoughts today.

  • http://twitter.com/CMHaugen Cory Haugen

    I was the drum major for my college marching band. The only class any of us attended that day was our evening rehearsal. It was a beautiful night, weather wise; a bit surreal. I now realize that our director was amazingly brilliant in simply allowing us to rehearse our show without giving any sort of speech or pep talk. We needed the routine and we needed the music; we needed normalcy for that single hour and a half. When rehearsal was through we gathered in a very tight circle, all 250 of us, and quietly sang our alama matter. Thinking about it now, I don’t even recall what the music selection was for that show but I remember feeling like I had a family of young musicians with whom I could share my pain and fear, and by doing so lessen it for me and for them. 

  • http://twitter.com/deleahrium deleahrium

    I was in high school, in an acting program. Our teacher had just that morning given an extensive lesson about using new experiences to observe how different people react in different situations. “Even a funeral,” he said “though it may be morbid, you need to be aware of how people act.” The more aware we were of how to act, the more prepared we’d be for future roles. We were outside in the parking lot wearing blindfolds and being led around obstacles by a partner’s touch (no speaking). The exercise was cut short and we were called inside. The voice coach joined us and we were listening to the radio. Myself and a few of the others thought it was fake. We thought it was pre-recorded, like War of the Worlds, and we were glancing around the room studying everyone else’s reactions more than we were reacting ourselves. When I got back to my regular school, kids were angry, they were worried, classmates checked their cell phones. The teachers couldn’t say anything that day, and some kids took advantage. Others were clutching them like a lifeline. We were in Jersey. They had family in the towers. I didn’t, so I watched their reactions more than I reacted myself. I think that’s how I’ve dealt with it for the past decade.

    Truce was one of my first loves when I found the Dresden Dolls in college. Girl Anachronism, sure, my friends and I could screech along in the car and giggle as we stumbled over words, but Truce introduced me to the duality I’ve treasured so much in your lyrics. It seems like so many songs are (at least) two stories in one, and I will never get tired of that.

  • RiverVox

    I’ve spent the day trying to avoid really feeling this, but it’s time to let out that breath. I was home alone, nursing my 3 week old daughter, weeping and terrified as I watched the towers collapse.  The world seemed out of control as the networks ran raw, unedited footage and frightened reporters tried to get a handle on the horror. President Bush was nowhere to be found. There was no one to explain or to make it stop. What on Earth could I do to protect this new baby from such a nightmare?

    My husband’s building was evacuated since he worked near the Federal Reserve Bank so thankfully he came home. Like you Amanda, we were fearful that the Prudential Center and the Hancock Tower in Boston would be next. We waited and watched for whatever was to come. I understood for the first time that there were people in the world who hated enough to kill me. It was a loss of innocence, even at the age of 35.

    All flights were grounded for days after the event, but I would hear planes flying low over  the city as I nursed the baby at 3 AM and I would wait in fear, listening for a crash or an an explosion. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped listening. I can see the Pru and the Hancock from one spot in my neighborhood and I still check them every time I pass by. They are still standing. My daughter just turned 10. She is strong and smart and loving and brave and I wish I never had to tell her this story.

  • Grace

    I was 15. Living in Washington state and trying to get a few more minutesof sleep before I had to catch the bus to high school. My 14 year old sister ran into my room and said I had to get up right now because something was happening. I entered the downstairs living room minutes before the second plane hit the tower. The newscasters had been convinced until that point that it must b just some kind of horrible accident. I remember Joyce, the women newscaster gasping as they saw the second plane come around the side of the tower and saying “no it can’t-” and them t hit and they quickly threw to commercial. I went to school. No work was accomished. All day we just watched the news. Lots of kids went home mid-day because there was no reason to be there. A few tea hers tried to talk about what was happening. I think they let us go home early because everyone was to shocked to do anything. And that’s how I remember 9/11

  • gattopardo

    I live in Portugal and 10 years ago I was 23 and on my senior year at college. I spent the whole morning locked up in the library studying for my Semiology  final which was also the very last exam of my college life. I went from the library building to the exam room and once the exam was over I dashed over to the parking lot where my parents were waiting to pick me up. We were driving north to a 4 day family helliday. I had just got into the car when my phone registered an incoming message “Are you watching?! This is insanity!”. (this would be around 2.30 pm my time). I had no clue what the heck was going on so I just turned the radio on as my dad drove us out of Lisbon and into the A1 highway. We spent the whole 5-hour drive listening to the radio news. Interviews, reports, news-readers stuttering live on air, at a loss for words, searching for suitable adjectives to qualify the horrible images we the listeners could not even begin to wrap our heads around. First of all, the whole scale of the event seemed unrealistic – Lisbon is such a tiny city, our tallest, largest buildings must seem like matchboxes to a New Yorker. So the mere thought of a plane crashing into a building was just so hard to picture. While the world was following these events in real-time, with live video-feed, I had the opposite and rather estranging experience of having to make the image up in my head, which was near impossible. Never did words seem  (to a language lover like myself) so inadequate and flat. How many times can you hear the word tragedy before you feel it is becoming trite? 
    As the events unfolded, the feeling of strangeness escalated into full blown Hollywood block-buster suspension of disbelief. The second plane, the fires, the jumpers, the collapse of the first tower…. Was this really happening?! It was like an overly elaborate exercise of imaginative speculation to believe this Dantean account without the benefit of images to ground it in reality. Apart from catastrophe movies, I had  no reference, nothing even remotely similar that I could draw from to picture this in my head, compare this to. I tried hard  but just drew a blank… or saw flashes of a banged-up, barefoot Bruce Willis dangling from a window as the Nakatomi Building waved sayonara to its top 9 or so floors.
    It sounds terribly callous but at the time I wasnt even thinking about the who-did-this and the why’s. Just realizing and accepting that this was actually real and happening was hard enough. 
    We stopped for gas at about the only gas station in the civilized world NOT to have a tv. It is stupid but until I could actually see it, I was convinced that maybe, somehow, it wasnt as bad as they were describing in the radio. When I finally got to the hotel, I turned the tv on and just…. let the footage and the realization sink in. 
    It defied and far outstripped everything I had imagined. It was a 1000 times worse. And in the glare of my hotelroom’s flatscreen, outlined in smoke and fire, in the tear-stained faces of firemen and bewildered survivors it was finally and unequivocally real. Now that I’d seen it, I could start believing it. Or maybe not…. 

  • ET

    I was eight and living in the Midwest and my parents shielded me from the TV footage. I’m thankful for that and I understand. But I think there’s something to be said for those of us for whom the tragedy loomed without facts or images. We’re a tiny group of people, but if you were that age– and well-protected– you will know. It was too soon to talk in school. It was too soon for little blurbs in history books. It was always too soon and when it was time for us to know everyone else was ready to forget.

    It’s another kind of silence and another kind of fear. I know it isn’t direct loss, but 9/11 saddled me not only with a vague and intangible anxiety but also with a sense of having intruded on a fear that I had no right to let live in me, and it took a lot of sleep from me at times.

    It was only several months ago that I YouTubed videos of the towers. I am almost eighteen and I had never seen.

    I don’t have any answers, but a recent argument with a friend has reassured me that emotions are never lies. No one can ever tell you that you do not have a right to grieve or that you are taking something “too seriously” that shouldn’t matter to you. No matter how we feel about this…no matter how close we were or how far or how able to understand…we need to listen to how we feel. We need to understand those feelings instead of succumbing to pressure to deny them. I know I was young and that I still am, but I think it’s important. Our emotions do not need to be validated by others to exist. I am allowed to be haunted.

    • CJ

      You said so beautifully what my heart has been aching to figure out how to say for ten years. I was 21 when it happened. An seeing footage again even tho I now live in another state, I still felt like I was home again, watching it right there that moment…hearing, SEEING the fighter planes fly over my town rushing towards Manhattan. Ten years, another state, an yet all over again I was terrified, only to realize I don’t think I ever stopped feeling that way. I just always felt like as you said, “that you do not have a right to grieve or that you are taking something “too seriously”. Time is supposed to heal they say, but I think all time has done for any of us if we really look deep down, has simply left us all haunted inside.

    • http://amandapalmer.net/ Amanda Palmer

      “emotions are never lies” is a beautiful way of putting it.

      you also can’t measure them against one another. 

  • Gregory9

      ‎10 years ago I woke to an ordinary Canadian day… Ordinary until I turned on my television. Expecting to find Regis on I stood there dumbfounded, watching in disbelief & horror as the events of that day unfolded. As the world changed forver.Then the stories began to make their way to the media.
    The men & women of the fire stations who answered that call..
    Who off duty rushed to their various companies because they knew they were needed.
    Who without second thought rushed into the unknown on a scale they had never seen or had fathomed could happen.
    Who thought only of getting those inside out to safety.
    The word hero has since then been used alot &  to me far too often on those who while having achieved or accomplished something outstanding truly are not heroic.
    We collectively lost so much that day…
    Strangers, friends, co-workers in stairwells leading others out…
    In the dark places who hurt never stopped fighting to make their way to safety
    Those who left it unspoken but knowing the actions they take might be their last,
    Chose to show the rest of us The BEST of us.
    They are heros in the truest sense & they have left those of us here a huge mark to strive for…
    To be better than we are not because we can be,
    but because we should be.
    In remembering their sacrifices & their actions & paying them honor in a very small we we are saying thank you for the ultimate sacrifce. Thank you for being heros to us all.

  • http://twitter.com/leah_v Leah L

    i was a senior and my girlfriend at the time and i stopped for gas on our way to our performing arts high school.  we wondered why the car radio wasn’t working.  a guy at the gas station said, “some day, huh? a historical tragedy.”  i had no idea what he was talking about because i hadn’t heard the news.  he said, “sweetheart, a plane hit the twin towers and the pentagon.”  
    i’ve never said this before but i had no idea what the twin towers were. there was and still is a tremendous guilt about that  i was in my own world, working hard to become good at theatre–i could name greek playwrights and butoh creators but didn’t know what the fucking world trade center was. so fucked up.

    years later, i learned that my aunt who worked in the middle east division of the CIA had a miscarriage due to the stress of knowing that the attack would happen, but our leaders wouldn’t listen.  another thing i never told anyone. 

    truce is also one of my favorite DD song–would love to hear the story of Half-Jack–that song helped me come out to  my parents.  thank you. 

  • http://benrhughes.com/oid/ Ben

    As an Aussie, I was in bed when I got an SMS from a friend telling me to turn on the TV.

    I remember the day really  well – it was completely awesome. I was in my last year at uni and had found out that day that I’d been accepted into a graduate job for 2002. That night I saw Diana Ah Naid with my best mate at a great pub – one of the best live shows I’ve seen. So it was a bit of a day of contrasts.

    Like you, I had that shamefull excitement thing. That slowed a little, and then I had a crazy optimistic thought: maybe the US will take this as a wake-up call that their actions have caused people to hate them this much.  So naive…

    Then, mostly, I was sad and a little scared and more than a little shell shocked.

    What depresses me is that the US did exactly what it shouldn’t have: smashed its economy and freedom on the invisible rocks of terror. Think of the incredible economic cost (and unspeakable human cost) of 10 years of war: would you guys be in this precarious situation now otherwise? It makes me sad because there’s so much about the US I love.

    On Truce, it’s one of my favs too, along with Half Jack. Both have always kicked me in the guts without me knowing why. I’d never thought about the war imagery being anything more than that, but it’s so obvious now that I know. Makes it even more power. I teared up listening to it on the drive to work this morning.

  • http://twitter.com/LylahExperiment CatieMurphy

    Ten years ago today, my dad stayed home sick from work. We lived on Long Island, he was a volunteer firefighter, and when I left for school, his red car was in the driveway. I walked into it on my way to the bus. When I came home, instead of a red car, I found my mom sitting on a chair on our porch with a red face. My father is a volunteer firefighter, and when he saw the first plane hit, he was on his way to his firehouse, a full forty five minutes away, to get into a firetruck and make his way, along with his fellow firemen, to ground zero. 
    My mother and i spent the day wondering if he had made it there, and if he was still alive.
    I consider myself lucky that my father’s fire company waited for him to get there before they left. Another company he ran with left earlier, and made it to ground zero. My father and his team were stuck outside of the city, unable to get thru the congestion of other responders.
    I learned today that he spent twenty six hours in that fire truck, willing and ready to give his life to save men and women he didn’t know.
    I feel almost selfish being glad that he didn’t make it there, because I know if he had gone to work that day, he probably would have been one of them men running into the tower, and I don’t know if he would have made it back out. Because I know that he wouldn’t have left, if there was someone left there for him to push out ahead of him, to make sure they made it home too.

  • http://twitter.com/LylahExperiment CatieMurphy

    Woops, I didn’t think it posted, so I posted twice. I fail.

  • mfb

    I was newly in London, after having spent the previous week in New York. Exactly one week before 9/11, I was at the top of the WTC in Windows on the World listening to a friend’s band. On 9/11, I had been in London for three days, and had my first meeting with my grad school supervisor in London. As I went to the lobby, a red-faced man burst into the building shouting. “Are there Americans here?” he yelled, twice. I said I was and he yelled that New York City had been bombed and that 2/3 of the city was dead. The receptionist let me get online to email my parents that I was ok (who told me to calm down!). My flat had no television, so I watched in pubs and listened to the radio for days and nights, piecing together what had happened. Although everyone I knew was ok, being outside of the US was almost impossible. I don’t ever tell anyone about this. I am not healed.

  • Run2theMoon511

    This song is perfect. Like a knife to my heart… perfect, raw emotion.

  • elizabeth

    I remember exactly where I was. I remember feeling the break in my heart for all of the people involved. I felt fear because I finally convinced my fiance to not re-enlist in the Army. We wanted to have a family and I didn’t want to do it on my own. I was worried that he’d be called back. Most of all, I remember feeling guilty because all I could think about was how my life would change because of it.

    I remember the disbelief that so much hate could be focused on us. I was amazed at the bravery of those on Flight 93 and of the first responders.

    It was also the day that my ability to believe was broken. It has taken a long time to mend. I miss my innocence.

    Thank you, everyone, for your stories.

  • http://twitter.com/brbGallifrey ChildofTime

    It was such a surreal day. I was a senior in college, and I was taking my bullshit PE credit that they required despite my being a 4-year, two-sport varsity athlete. So I was walking across campus to my directing class (with wet hair), which was in the college theatre green room. When I got into the theatre, the 3 theatre profs with offices there were clustered with the TD around this tiny, black and white, prop TV with a coat hanger jammed into the top. They had gone down to the prop room when they first heard, grabbed the only TV that would turn on, and hauled it up and plugged it in stage right. I asked them what was up, and they sort of shushed me and beckoned me over without really looking away. The second plane hit the tower as I walked over. The image on the screen was fuzzy and static-y, and the vertical hold on the television had mostly failed, so the image rolled slowly up the tiny screen. The rest of my class (which was only six people) trickled in over the next few minutes, and we just watched them towers burn without much speaking. Some people cried, and when people started jumping one of my classmates buried her face in my shoulder and sobbed. They zoomed in on the fire for a while, and 2WTC looked funny to me so I said, “Wait, can those towers really burn like that?” The director of the department looked up at me and said, “What?” Then he looked back at the screen and the tower crumbled away. I remember the screaming and the swearing on the news. When both of them had fallen, we stood for a minute, then decided to go into the green room. We talked a little bit in a sort of dazed way, and I stepped outside into the loading dock to try and call my boyfriend, whose father was supposed to be working at the Pentagon all week. I wasn’t able to reach my boyfriend or his mother, so I went back to the green room, where we decided we were going to have class because we didn’t want to give the people responsible the power to stop us.The rest of the college had stopped, classes were officially cancelled, and people went to the chapel to pray and be with the chaplain. My friends and I spent the afternoon in one of the college social rooms watching the news. Eventually I got through to my boyfriend and found out that his meeting had been pushed back an hour, which meant that instead of sitting in a room that didn’t exist any more, he was driving to the Pentagon when it was struck. Despite canceling classes, senior portraits were that day, and were not rescheduled. Every so often, one of my friends would look at their watch, hop up, and disappear for ten minutes or so, come back to ask how they looked, then go out onto the front quad and have their portrait taken. Then they would come back and sit down to watch with everyone. The senior portraits in that yearbook are all odd smiles on pale faces.The director of Macbeth decided not to cancel rehearsals. We were rehearsing Act 2, scene 3 of Macbeth that night, and I was playing Macduff. My lines in that scene were:O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart
    Cannot conceive nor name thee!
    Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
    Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
    The Lord’s anointed temple, and stole thence
    The life o’ the building!
    Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
    With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak;
    See, and then speak yourselves.
    Awake, awake!
    Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason!
    Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!
    Shake off this downy sleep, death’s counterfeit,
    And look on death itself! Up, up, and see
    The great doom’s image! Malcolm! Banquo!
    As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites,
    To countenance this horror! Ring the bell.Usually when you’re rehearsing, people are shuffling around, studying lines, messing with their stuff, whispering, whatever. Everything stopped for those lines.Shakespeare reached out and grabbed us all by the throat that night, and our show was so much better for it. We’re not the only ones who put it all into our art, either. Truce is amazing and true.

    • http://angryyoungwomanblog.blogspot.com confirmed spinster

      My brother worked at the Pentagon, too, but wasn’t there that day.  His best friend was, though, and was killed.  What a strange mix of emotions.

  • Bo

    I was sitting in my windowless cement block of a sixth grade english class. The teacher got a call and turned on the TV and we saw what was happening. I remember not really getting the big deal immediately but the school sent us home and it was all that was on TV for days. Seems so weird to think back to then

  • guest
  • lentower

    11sep2001 started as a normal usual day

    had gotten to breakfast over email,
    with channel surfing the four broadcast news morning shows for weather
    (boston is one of the interesting weather nexuses,
    where all four forecasts can be different)

    and katie couric interrupted the today show,
    with the news bulletin that a plane had hit one of the WTC towers

    went to full-time channel surfing

    my mind made connections for about an hour

    – wondered if the towers would fall
    (i knew how they had been built)

    – bin laden and his fanatics

    – a result of us foreign policy for over a century

    – afghanistan would be rescued from the taliban.
    we would set it right,
    as we should had after we got the USSR kicked out

    – nope,
    cheney, rumsfeld,  wolfowitz, rove and the rest of the neo-cons would
    maneuver us into iraq, and fight two wars at once poorly.
    c + rummy to “finish” iraq, which bush 41 wouldn’t let them do
    (they hadn’t learned anything from vietnam).
    the rest to do the neo-con thing of running up the
    deficit building the military and making the rich richer,
    so the dems couldn’t spend money on taking care of the country’s real needs

    about noon, the channel surfing had told me what there was to know.
    went back to the email, and on with my life.
    checked in with friends and family throughout the day

    i was saddened by all the loss.
    especially of those who brought the 4th stolen plane down over PA

    sad too, to understand well enough, but not to be able to do much

    the sky got bluer and bluer the next three days.
    ah yes, no jet plane plane pollution up there

    then we went back to over-heating the planet

  • May_bug

    I woke up turned on the TV wondered why Pokemon wasn’t on. I was 9.

  • Spakken

    Beautiful song, Ms. Fucking Palmer, as always.  I was in 8th grade.  I used to play cooperative roleplaying games on message boards.  The ones that were just telling stories, no hard rules on what you could do or what you could be, just as long as it made sense in the story.  My best friend on the board was a girl called AngelLiz.  Nobody liked her very much, save me.  She told stories about how her brother worked in the world trade center.  I was in study hall when the intercom rang out to turn on the TVs.  Other kids were stunned, gasping and murmuring.  I started crying.  The terrible problem was that the other kids asked why I was crying, like I needed to justify it.  I never saw online again, and I don’t know what happened to her, but I slowly began to hate every kid my age, because they asked me to justify tears.  I forgave them eventually, but I will always remember what little snots 8th graders can be.

  • Celticfirephotography

    What we lost in the fire.

    10 years. Has it really been that long?

    So much has changed in that amount of time, but I still feel
    the same way…angry.

    I feel betrayed, by our own political machinery, our lies,
    our habit of bedding murderers and cowards for the sake of politics, for resources,
    for oil, for the sake of imaginary lines bought and paid for with real lives. How
    long can this hurt last?

    I remember the sensation of hopelessness and despair that
    day so clearly, I didn’t panic, I felt calm…I had been having nightmares about
    something similar for years. Some sort of awakening, something costly and
    morbidly dark.  Somewhere just around the
    corner. I suppose it didn’t surprise me…that might be what bothered me the


    Maybe it was seeing war and its ruinous results my whole life, my earliest
    images remembered are of death, of Vietnam, of helicopters and body counts on the nightly
    news rattled off like inventory. Steel coffins draped with tear stained flags
    and the weary arms of loved ones kneeling to grasp the cold metal goodbye that
    was once their dearest love. Even as a young child, I think I understood…but
    even then questioned why? 


    My whole life I have watched our nation delve into the black
    arts of politics and warfare, policing and pushing, tugging on the wires of

    I think back to the 70’s and 80’s to remember what got us
    here…or to that awful day in September when our collective hearts broke, when
    the bubble burst for the first time, before this, it was John and Bobby and
    Martin Luther King…great moments of national suffering, yet nothing since Pearl
    Harbor could compare to the sense of violation, the personal attack to every
    individual standing on American soil that day.

    That’s what they didn’t count on.

    They wanted turmoil and chaos…when in reality, they
    unknowingly purchased extinction. Racial cleansing and holocaust for Islam…a
    endless hatred for their culture…a virtual death sentence for the entire Muslim

     Do I care?  I used too care a lot, until a trusted friend
    convinced me I was being naïve to the point of blindness.

    Doesn’t that make me a racist of some kind I asked??  

    I don’t want to hate, I prevented several close friends from
    committing murder and burning every Mosque in northern VA on 9/11…literally we
    were loading assault rifles and ordinance into trucks when I managed to squeeze
    in a moment of clarity and again a few days later when a 7/11 full of people
    almost killed a poor Sikh man behind his counter…because he was “One of them!”

    After the initial events the whole world terrified me, I
    couldn’t sleep for weeks. I woke up and cut all my hair off as an offering and
    soon after my erratic behavior turned my marriage into a ruinous divorce fueled
    bonfire. The following winter I exited my career stage fuck you and went into
    the void of addiction and vice. I found myself doing anything to push away the
    urge to just start killing and taking back what was mine…my country, my life,
    my soul. In the end my naïve heart gave in and I opted for love instead, hate
    and mass murder, I gasped for the fresh air of a new chance, a do over of some
    sort…anything to lift the veil. So, after a particularly long week of no sleep,
    I stood up and walked out of the ashes…on my own two feet and found myself
    sitting alone on the front porch of a place called Redwood watching dawn
    approach…when I realized what day it was…9/11/04…It shocked me how much time
    had passed. All of a sudden it was apparent what was wrong, I honestly didn’t
    know! All I knew was that I was failing at life, constantly tripping over my worldly
    disappointment reflected in the pieces of my shattered heart. I remember
    smiling at that moment because I remembered that pain was just weakness leaving
    the body…so I took the clip out of my gun and went back in the house,
    philosophically at least I felt like I had just climbed out of my own grave.


    Not many of my friends knew what was going on with me at the
    time…just thought I was shaving my head a lot and tweaking the fuck out and
    talking about guns and violence too damn much…but then I started writing
    again…started creating instead of killing what was boiling inside of me…I
    started letting it out…BANG like an assault rifle, in a blinding flash my pen
    and keyboard exploded like the muzzle flash on my AR ….BOOM a fucking epiphany
    in the dawns early light. 


    Fuck. ><


    So where does this conveniently happy story lead?  I don’t know…all I know is the world is dark,
    the world is a mess and nothing has changed. Only more death, more of our
    brothers and sisters killed on foreign shores for god knows what…who knows?

    Have we dealt our blow of vengeance? 


    Not as long as we as a nation remember what we witnessed 10
    years ago today.

    A vivid and visceral attack on our consciousness and our
    nation, our very existence in the world threatened for the first time live on
    the World Wide Web, all so cowardly executed by little men fooled into
    believing in a peasant’s religion of slavery and murder. A religion I once
    respected as ancient and misunderstood…a sad notion of a kind man hoping the
    world was better than the one he watched as a little boy so long ago…but alas
    it wasn’t, it was one of forced Shahira laws and little girls getting mutilated
    with acid, lovers being stoned to death, or ritually raped for shaming the
    family name.

    I mean what the fuck is that?

    How is it possible that your culture helped create modern
    medicine and language as we know it? 

    Now you are doomed. As I share this video(On my FB page) I
    dare anyone to not feel the horror, the connection with the doomed individuals
    of that day.

    When those towers went down they didn’t just kill 3000 people,
    they killed a piece of our nation and with it a piece of all of us and in that
    moment the void left behind was replaced with a boundless, ceaseless hatred for
    you and your sick fucking culture of cowards and pederasts. Sadly that is the
    real crime gone unnoticed. You will lose this war of attrition and disappear
    into obscurity. Only the history written by the victor will remain as witness
    to your sad fate. As for myself…I will remember the moments prior to 8:46 am,
    so beautiful, so blue and perfectly clear, unaltered by your murderous

    I will never forget.


    To all my fellow Americans, on the anniversary of 9/11 I say
    educate yourselves about what really got us in this mess, make our government
    stand up and admit their historical responsibility for allowing and
    perpetuating events that allowed this to happen. Do anything, write congress…stand
    up and fight back with a conscience refusal to let this type of thing happen
    again. In the mean time volunteer and help someone in your community, give
    someone hope and the love they deserve on this day of remembrance.

    Make America
    better by simply being a good American! Thank a Veteran, a policeman or
    fireman…people that risk their lives everyday for us and are largely invisible,
    stop them and let them know they are the best among us.


    On this day and all the ones to follow, Remember. America
    is blessed; it is up to us all to deserve that blessing. It is not just a
    birthright, it is a gift.


    Peace to all







  • Someoneotherthanbenn

    I was like 9 or 10 and I remember walking out of school and everyone just staring at TV screens, having no idea what was going on I just went straight home to find my mother and grandmother freaking out because one of my uncles was apparently a pilot for one of the airlines. 
    I remember just sitting there and watching, it just seemed so surreal, more and more people came round to see what was wrong and they just stood still in shock as they watched. 
    I never felt anything at first, I wasn’t too sure what I was supposed to feel. I just remember being as scared as hell, but also feeling guilty because I didn’t cry. I was young though. 
    I still don’t really know what to feel now (resentment towards it, or fear), I just don’t  get how people can say they don’t care about it. 

  • Fiz

    I was 13 years old, sitting on a bus on my way home from school in suburban Helsinki. It was around 4pm local time. I was sitting at the front of the bus, right next to the driver. It seems funny now, but my walkman had run out of batteries and although I usually carried spare ones with me, I didn’t have any that day. Quinky dink. I didn’t have music to distract me from the breaking news that interrupted the driver’s radio channel. I heard someone talk about towers collapsing, something about planes and New York City. I remember feeling no more than slightly disturbed, a little queasy; it didn’t sound good, but bad news pop up every day, all the time, it’s nothing new.

    I got home and my sister ran to the door, babbling about the beginning of World War III. The TV in the living room was on and the two of us sat there on our old, raggedy couch and watched thousands of people die. When the second tower was hit, I wasn’t completely convinced it was even happening. I mean, this doesn’t happen in real life, you know? Planes don’t fly into buildings. Little Finnish girls don’t watch it live in their suburban homes.

    In the next few days, I remember having a very worried and anxiety-ridden conversation with my history teacher. My sister had convinced me that it was indeed the beginning of World War III and we were all doomed. I don’t know how Finland would’ve gotten involved, but I was sure it was going to kill us, too. My history teacher, though, said that in his educated opinion it was extremely unlikely that a World War was going to break out. I remember him saying that the US would invade Afghanistan and they wouldn’t be able to fight back and that would be that. Some educated fool he was.

  • TheArcane

    i was ditching my chemistry class and discussing Existentialism with my Psychology instructor.  It was so weirdly a propos to what we were talking about.   
    It was the beginning of my awakening.  When i saw the mass hysteria, the reactionary conflagration, and the freaky surge of nationalist belligerence…well, i didn’t have the language then to articulate it well, but that’s when i realized that something was terribly wrong and that this was all some bizarre theater for historical atrocity.  Later i learned about the extent of the American war machine and just how insidiously it permeated our entire culture, our reality.  i realized i was fundamentally alienated from the entire institutional structure of society. 

    i wrote this spoken word piece and set it to music:  Find more artists like Social Stigma at Myspace Music

    • TheArcane

      Bah.  Should’ve known i couldn’t link to it that way.  If you want to listen to the song, it’s called Scared Into Submission and can be found on my old myspace music page here:  http://www.myspace.com/thearcane/

  • http://www.facebook.com/macnatty Natalia McCarty

    I was at home when it happened. I had a job interview by Lincoln Center. I had been laid off a few months earlier and the person that was going to interview me, Hawley was a client of my ex boss. She really liked me so I thought I had a shot. She called me around 10ish to tell me there was an explosion by where she lived and she had to cancel. She lived by South Street Seaport. I didnt think much of it except, “Cool! I get to sleep until late!” Only to get a call from my uncle telling me not to go to the city that someone put another bomb in the world trade center. About 15 minutes after Hawley called me. I decide to just get up to see what was going on. I  wasnt even concerned. I think it was because years earlier there was the bomb in the garage and it was horrible but not as terrifying as this turned out to be. I turn on the tv only to see the first building GONE and then the other one crumble before my eyes. I had no idea what I was looking at. Then as I grew more conscious and watched more I realized what was happening. My views of the world suddenly changed. It didnt change for the better. I was terrified. I had never been this scared. I also forgot that my grandmother was coming to the apartment that day so as soon as the terror struck me, my doorbell rang and I nearly shit myself! I saw her and I just hugged her in relief. She hadnt seen the news. About half an hour after she arrived mom came home from work telling me that despite working further out toward Long Island in Queens the buses stopped halfway on the route home and she had to walk the rest of the way. We put on Univision because my grandmother doesnt speak english very well and we all speak spanish. 

    Just so you know, if you didnt already, the latin news shows tend to be more graphic. They showed bodies on the ground. They showed the men and women jumping to their deaths. They showed the bodies just bending in all sorts of ways in the air. I think Im still traumatized by that. I was so nervous. I called everyone I knew just to make sure they were alive. One friend had guests from England at his place that day. The plan was to go to the World Trade Center and eat at Top of the Tower. Thankfully they were all too hungover to get up early enough. 

    Another friend had started work at the second building that day on the third floor. When the first building got hit, she ran. She walked all the way to the South Ferry. Took the Ferry to Staten Island and watched as one of the buildings fell to the ground. She didnt even live on Staten Island. She just knew she wanted off of Manhattan.

    I couldnt take the news anymore it was too much for me. I went into the bedroom and put on Spaceballs. I know. The scariest thing in the world is happening at this moment and I put on Spaceballs. Its what I do. Whenever times are horrible I put on something stupid and funny just to take my mind off of things. I got yelled at when I laughed out loud when they were “Combing the Desert” and the one dude goes “We aint’t found shit!” I still laugh at that scene. Its fucking funny. I felt horrible for laughing but I did also feel better. It made me realize things would be ok. There is always something out there that will make you happy no matter how bad things are. 

    I admittedly get ticked off when I see people post things like “Never forget” or “Remember 9/11″ How the hell could I possibly forget? I also feel that as much as we should revere those who died that day we should also respect the families who are struggling to this day to grow from the tragedy and let them grieve in private. thats just my opinion though.

  • yellow_monkeyphoto

    I remember when I first started listening to the Dolls, and how i just couldn’t stop listening (and still can’t to this very day) because every song had so much story to it, Truce is still one of my favorites as well. You are my hero.

  • http://twitter.com/CynicalPlague Jo Barnes

    I certainly understood coin operated boy and its meaning but now, rereading the lyrics to Truce, it suddenly has an entire new haunting meaning.

    As for myself, I was only seven when it happened. I live in England so, although I don’t know the exact time difference, I know it was around the end of school that it happened. My father works nights so he was watching the footage at home live and he’s told me about his absolute shock and initially thought they were replaying the footage when the second plane crashed. My mother childminded so there was always several other kids with us. We always used to watch TV after school, taking it in turns. Instead, for the first time, my mum had it on the news. She just kept watching the footage over and over again and I remember being confused as to why she had tears in her eyes. Yes, the footage was upsetting of the fire but surely fires happened all the time? Yet, at the same time, even at the age of seven, I could feel the tension and that it meant a hell of a lot more than that. I honestly didn’t understand the real impact and that’s taken years to appreciate.
     However, I do remember also the hysteria that followed. Whether they’d bomb the UK (which they, of course, would later on which I remember in a lot more detail) and another specific thing I remember was watching this kid’s news thing in which they took kid’s questions. I watched because my grandmother lives just outside London and I was worried. They assured us that this mysterious man called Osama Bin Laden didn’t have long enough range missiles to hit London from where he was. They wisely didn’t bring up planes or bombs. 

  • H.G. Paige

    It was my second year of graduate school. I was living at home with my parents and my sister in Queens. I  had a habit of leaving the television on mute while I slept. I was having bad dreams and the television helped. When I woke up a movie was playing. There was an explosion, I didn’t pay much attention. I grabbed my cell phone and called a friend. He picked up and said he was fine. “Fine?” I asked. “Aren’t you calling to see if I’m ok?” Silence. “Haven’t you seen the news?” More silence. “Someone flew a plane into the Twin Towers.” I turned towards the television. I don’t remember thinking anything. I just remember the moment when I realized that I was watching the news not a movie. A minute or two passed and the second tower fell.  I hung up. I frantically dialed numbers; my mother, my sister, my father, my friends, anyone I knew who would be in the city. All safe. Thank God.I watched the news for two or three hours. I turned it off. It was too much. I was just there a few days ago. I don’t remember who called who, but I was on the phone with my friend, Maye. We decided to go to a movie to get our minds off of everything.
    When we tried to buy tickets, we received a verbal lashing from the guy in the ticket booth. How could we go to a movie at a time like this? He told us that his muslim friends had been beaten up and was in the hospital. 
    Maye and I looked at each other. I told him that I felt bad for his friend but we couldn’t sit and watch the news all day, it was too upsetting. Besides, the trains weren’t running, we couldn’t even go to help.  
    At this point the manager showed up and gave the guy a stern look. Then we got our tickets. I don’t remember what we watched. 
    When I got back home, I found a scrap of paper in my pocket with a name and number on it, Will. Will worked in one of the towers. I met him at The World Trade Center a few days prior. We were supposed to go on a date. I called his number. Voicemail. I left a message.
    The following days were quiet. Will eventually called me back. He was on the ground floor getting a cup of coffee when the plane hit. He said that he ran into the subway, and followed a crowd into one of the cars. He said the dust was so thick he could barely see, let alone breath.
    A week later we went out on our date. He spoke about his experience on 9/11. He said that every time he heard a loud noise his heart pounded in his chest. I was sympathetic to his trauma, but the tone in his voice made me think he was trying to get into my pants.  My thoughts were confirmed. While driving me home he stopped the car, and pulled out his erect penis. 
    I just looked at him. I contemplated smacking him, but as I said, I was sympathetic. Being a survivor can make you do things that you normally wouldn’t. I got out of the car. I could hear him as I shut the door. “Come on, just touch it. We would be so good together.” I walk home. It was only a few blocks. 
    We went out twice after that, but I couldn’t forgive his penis display. That was that. 

  • Traceeraven

     I was 9 or 10 when the towers fell. I remember I was in elementary school and the teachers were shuffling about and whispering and going in and out of class rooms trying to act natural, but the whole class could tell something was up and we were all getting uneasy.

    Finally we got one of the teachers to tell us what was happening and as soon as she said , “Planes hit the world trade center. “, kids were getting called to go to the office because their parents were picking them up early. Everyone was afraid, we were next to the Miami, FL airport and a lot of people thought planes were going to hit major cities, our teachers in particular. Unfortunately they did not voice this fear low enough, and a lot of students including myself became nervous wrecks.

    Out of a class of about 20, me and two others kids were the only ones to not get picked up early. The teachers put the news on and we all watched history unfold.

    I remember the feeling in my stomach and being afraid for the people in New York.  And I remember just waiting for my mother to pick me up and thinking that if God forbid it happens to us I just want to go home with my family and wait for the planes to crash into us.

  • http://angryyoungwomanblog.blogspot.com confirmed spinster

    I was twenty-one, living in Idaho and going to the little Mormon college where my dad worked.  I was asleep when it happened, but I heard the radio and the astonishment from my mom’s study next to my bedroom.  I wandered in and asked what was going on.  She told me that a plane had crashed into one of the towers.  I thought it must be an accident.  I didn’t understand the significance.  I was sleepy and dull.  And then another plane hit and things began to dawn on me the way terrifying things dawn on people–slowly and stickily, like wading through caramel.

    I was at school when I heard about the Pentagon.  My brother worked at the Pentagon.  The horror took root.  I made my way through the day like a drone.  Between classes, I glued myself to the television in the student lounge, watching the news as it happened.  At some point my brother called my dad to tell him he was ok, he hadn’t gone in to the Pentagon that day, but his friend Brady (a boy I grew up with and remember as a boy, not a man working at the DOD) was still missing.  Brady’s wife was at my brother’s house with him and his wife.  Hours later my dad told me they found Brady’s body.

    The day should stand out from all other days in capital letters, but it doesn’t.  It is just a knot, a cold hard feeling of dread in my stomach slowing me down and making me sick.  I’ve been avoiding the media all week.  I didn’t want to be reminded of this day.  I didn’t want to see the politicians using my sorrow to fuel their agendas.  I didn’t want to see people shouting “Never forget” so we remain angry and vengeful.  I didn’t want to think about it, but the story should be told.

  • http://www.facebook.com/people/Jennifer-Nichole-Robertson/100001304971240 Jennifer Nichole Robertson

    i was in las vegas, it was my senior year in high school and i hadn’t slept well the night before because i knew i was going to the hospital. i had pneumonia in 60 percent of my lungs. i had woke up  unable to breath but relieved because my mom had made it to bed instead of staying up all night making sure i didn’t suffocate in my sleep, like she had the three nights before. i stumbled into the living room mindlessly and started flipping through channels looking for cartoons to watch cause i’m a nerd, not really paying attention, but i stopped after seeing the towers blink by on at least 20 different channels.
    it was a strange and confusing feeling when i finally realized that a plane actually crashed into one of the towers. i went and told my mom what i was seeing and in her sleepy daze she simply remarked that they must be talking about the bombing that had happened years before. i made her wake up and come into the living room to see what i was talking about and moments later the second plane hit. we sat in a painful silence and watched until it all came tumbling down.
    i spent three weeks in the hospital with two tubes sticking through uncomfortable incisions on either sides of my ribs with the most depressing television i’ve ever had to watch in my life. i remember being thoroughly pissed off at the fact everything i could normally be watching was canceled, not because i didn’t want to watch what was happening in new york, but because of all the positive things they could have decided to keep airing they decided the one show america still needed to have was fucking sally jesse raphael. 
    it’s a time in my life started seriously questioning the media, the things that i willingly allowed to influence me and mankind in general. three straight weeks of living in someone else’s nightmare completely oblivious of my own plight, realizing our nation had been given a taste of terror that had long ago been wiped from it’s pallet and it scared me to think of how easily it could be brought to our own front door even though it was happening on the other side of the nation. i was never the same again and neither was the rest of america.

  • AloneOnASeeSaw

    I feel so old after reading all these comments. As a kid, I grew up on NATO bases in Europe in the 80’s when the Berlin Wall was still up, Cold War stuff. I remember seeing graffiti -“Yankees Go Home”, “No NATO”, a poster of Reagan”They Come To Enslave Us”. My elementary school was bomb threatened repeatedly. We were eventually bombed at a civilian restaurant. We were clueless as to why anyone would want to kill us. We thought we were there to prevent the USSR from invading western Europe.

    We got the same talking points at the time, as we hear today. It’s just a differnet bogeyman now. The biggest difference between that time and now is the internet. Growing up my experiences and the official answers from political leaders contradicted. The closest I ever came to the truth was from graffiti and music,  in particular political punk. The internet allowed me to piece everything together finally many, many years later.

    9/11/2001 had been going on throughout the world long before I was born in 1973, and people are still living it everyday, as already mentioned–Iraqis, Afghans, Palestinians, on and on…

    I decided to stop reading about these things and start doing something. I now attend rallies, protests, petitioning, whatever I can.  As some people say, “Silence is complicty”.

  • E.

    I was 8 years old, living in Darwin, NT, Australia. It was in the September holidays (your spring break), and all I remember was waking up that morning and not being able to watch cartoons (childish and silly, yes). I remember the same clip being played every 15 or so minutes, because I read the bulletin thingy on the CNN channel.

    I remember my mother being upset. I don’t remember being upset, to be honest. I didn’t understand. I knew it was real, but I didn’t understand why people would do that.

    I remember thinking something bad was going to happen to Australia. For years (even when I moved to Tasmania), I was scared that something would happen to my country. I remember this horrible fear when a rumour went around that there were going to be terrorist attacks in Brisbane and Sydney, as I have family in both those cities. I remember thinking that there was going to be another war, and that I’d never see my friends or family again. I remember being scared and praying to God every night that my family and I would be safe. This lasted up until I was about 16.

    I’m going to be brutally honest and say because of 9/11 (and 7/7!), I do get a tad panick-y when I see someone of a different race when I’m on a plane or bus. It’s so stupid. I have to remind myself that 99.99% of muslims, christians and any other religion are usually decent people. It’s that .01% that fuck it up for the rest of them.

    You probably all think I’m a racist nutjob now. 

    • anon

      This being said, it’s changed the way we look at other people, other religions and other cultures much more critically.

      I don’t like that.

  • Alyssa

    I lived in a community that is somewhat of a cult at the time, a strange complex devoted to the teachings of Yogananda. 

    The day of 9/11 I was asked to draw a painting in remembrance to those who have died, and to help everyone pray to keep others safe. I drew a picture of earth and wrote “world peace” on it and gave it to them. I didn’t know what was happening, I didn’t know people were dying, no one informed me of anything. Just that something bad was happening, and I needed to draw this painting. I was 7 and the picture ended up not being “good enough” and that I “should have come up with something better.”

    They told me later what was going on, somewhat in spite because I hadn’t drawn anything good enough to be hung up on the wall in their prayer circle. I wasn’t even allowed to go over there, I was to stay at home until they were “done.”
    At this point I think I decided God didn’t exist and that adults were just “mean”. I didn’t want to do anything for any of them and I rejected religion so much to the point that I even turned my mother into an atheist.I don’t really know what else to say, I felt like sharing my experience I suppose, I never thought to tell anyone else what I was doing on that day, it doesn’t measure up to any degree of how other people were on 9/11.

  • Fainora

    I was in english class senior year, what’s worse is where i live draw a line from ny to dc to the plane in penn. in the middle of that triangle is my town. what that meant was on that day as they wheeled in a tv cart to show us the footage i was watching the fear and panic in my ffriends eyes as they frantically tried to reach parents who worked in nyc or in d.c. we had alot of military families.

    and then there was the rumour of a 4th unaccounted for plane and here we are smack in the middle of it all. what happens if it went down in the middle of nowhere like the one what happened if it hit one of the towns we lived in.

    and then there was this very surreal moment for me as the night before I had watched a documentry on the pentagon and how it was protected from bombs.

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=571970955 Des Jensen

    I was a Sophomore in college, less than 2 months from 21.  I lived on a campus built, for the most part, in the 60’s so the basement of the concrete dorm had been and was still registered as a fallout shelter.  I’d gotten up and left my room for my morning routine in the public floor bathroom and when I came back, my Dad was on my answering machine, asking if I wasn’t answering because I was still asleep or if I’d been “evacuated to the bomb shelters” (I still remember his words).  When I called back to find out what he was talking about he told me to turn on the news.  I watched the second tower collapse (I don’t remember now if in real time or replay, because there were replays for days following), feeling like it was all some kind of bad dream.   I continued watching while getting ready for class, which was canceled for the day (and made optional for the rest of the week) but I sat in the office I worked in, with the other tutors I worked with, watching the news for the rest of the day. One thing I remember very vividly was our considerable number of Middle Eastern students disappeared almost instantly.  I actually don’t remember seeing any of them that day.  On a campus of 4000, that many missing students is very noticeable.  The other thing I remember was the Air Force Academy occasionally used the airport near our campus for training because it was outside the city and would bother fewer people…their planes had always just been a part of the atmosphere but after 9/11 they became something to take note of.  Paranoia led us to wonder if somewhere nearby (Fort Carson, the Academy, NORAD) could be a target as well.  And in all of that, I really don’t remember when it stopped feeling like a horrible nightmare and finally became real.

  • Lisa

    I was in the hospital, in labor, delivering my beautiful son who had passed away while inside me. The television was on in the background as some sort of filler to keep my son’s father preoccupied as the drugs that induced my labor were dripping into my vein through the I.V. I was in pain both physically and mentally. I remember absently staring at the television screen when the first news source broke in that a plane had hit the tower. I remember remarking about how beautiful and clear the sky was in New York that day and that I had a hard time understanding how a plane could merely run into a building like that. My doctor and several nurses made their way into our room to fiddle with machines around me but kept their eyes on the television with only short glances at the numbers on the machines. We were watching the news coverage as the second plane hit the other tower. Speculation about whether we were under some sort of attack ended right there and then. I was in such awe that I actually forgot for the slightest moment of the tragedy happening in my life on that morning. I delivered my son just after 11am. My heart was broken into a million pieces. Not just for the son I lost but for all the mothers and fathers who lost their children that day too. I did not feel alone in my grief. It was a weird emotion. As if I could feel the pull and tug and maddening, aching,  energy of all the mothers who lost their “babies” that day.  I will never forget where I was that morning. Ever. -Lisa

    • http://angryyoungwomanblog.blogspot.com confirmed spinster

      My heart goes out to you.  I wish this were some kind of comfort.

  • http://profiles.google.com/wrenn00 Wrenn Simms

    I hadn’t made the connection to the song either,  but, as others have said, it is obvious. 

    My memories are quite sharp.  I watched the Bloomberg and Reuters feeds to my desk to dead at 9:03 AM.  I was south though. about 2 hours.  Delaware is a banking ‘capital’, and I worked for the 2nd largest fund servicing company in the country at the time. The rest of the day was numb, I’d known people, had colleagues in the buildings.  We watched from conference rooms on big screens, we’d been asked to do so, because we’d overloaded the internet access from our desks. 

    The next week was surreal, going into work.  Having no work.  Barely trained ‘Life Balance’ people from HR trying to do what their few hours of training has supposedly prepared them.  

    Home.  I’d turned down a job in NYC in 1999, one that would have put me in the Towers.  I’d done it because the guy I’d been dating   asked me to stay in Delaware…   so, I can say, in a way,  I owe my life to my idiot ex husband.  If not for staying, not taking the NYC job, I’d likely have been there that day (or, possibly,  on my way to work…. I tended to gravitate to jobs that had leeway in start time. I know myself. )

    Now…  I was a casualty of the downsizing in 2009 and I  actually moved to NYC…  at the request of the ‘mid list’ sci fi author I have been dating. 

    It’s been 10 years.  I sometimes think of the people I knew who did not get out of those buildings….  but life moves on.  Remember, but don’t let it paralyze us.  Remember,  and rebuild. 

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=516175116 Kerri Peek

    I will just tell you the aftermath. I was a US Soldier. I was in OIF/OEF and I went years without seeing my children, because of the specialty of MOS. My children became postcards, snippets of letters  and pictures which I lovingly secured in my footlocker. Eventually I became disabled due to injuries sustained and came home permanently. I have a 90% Disability Rating through the Dept of Veterans Affairs and 100% through SSDI. It’s not enough to raise to two teenage daughters, not even close. I have been applying for 100% through the VA and despite adamant letters from doctors in my support, some bureaucratic asshole keeps denying me. I really need this. I am having to make the choices between medicine and food. I came home just in time to watch my Mama die of Breast Cancer. Basically I’ve been knocked down so hard and so fast that I often do not know which way is up. I suffer from BiPolar/Survivor’s Guilt/PTSD/Major Panic Disorder/Chronic Sinusitis/Chronic Bronchitis/Allergies (which I never had before) and “Adult Onset Asthmae (?) Every day is a struggle  me on so many levels: Financially/Spiritually/Emotionslly/Physically et al., I’ve been reeling in the darkness and despair. Yet I am finally learning to pick myself up and live again. It’s an upward battle, but it’s something I know I must do. However hard, I must keep on trucking, suck it up as it were. It’s a lonely battle.  

    • AloneOnASeeSaw

      The military is a sick institution. I’ve worked in military hospitals, you’re not alone in this! Look into  Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America–your story is why they exist.

    • http://angryyoungwomanblog.blogspot.com confirmed spinster

      I’m on SSDI because I have epilepsy.  It is not enough for one person to survive on, I don’t know how they can expect you to raise your children on it.  I have the cheapest apartment available in a not very good part of town (when I moved here someone who was giving me a ride home told me that there had been a murder in my building not long before I moved in.  It was not reassuring).  My rent is still over half my income.  I have huge medical bills.  I have PTSD from severe abuse, but I can’t afford treatment.  I had to go to the hospital two weeks ago and I don’t know how I will afford the copay after Medicare.  It’s ridiculous.

      Yet I was turned down for Medicaid because I couldn’t turn in the paperwork because I was in the hospital.  They turned me down last year because they said my social security was in another state, I fixed it and tried calling the social worker they assigned to me over and over again so they would review my case again, and all I ever got was a machine.  They never called me back.

      I’ve lost fifteen pounds in the last two months because I can’t afford to eat more than once a day.

      This sounds stupid and melodramatic.  I wish it didn’t.  I don’t know how you’re doing it with kids.  I wish you weren’t going through this.  You are a hero.  You gave your health for this country.  You don’t deserve this shit.  You deserve to be lauded.  You deserve the best healthcare available.  You deserve to have all of your and your family’s needs taken care of.  I’m so ashamed of my country.

  • Akharnam

    I recall it for the utter irony. Here in Melbourne Australia, the first hint of news arrived during a braodcast of the West Wing TV show. I was not in the mood for a newsbreak interuption about some plane crash in the US, whihc was all the details then coming through, but the regular programming did not resume. So the TV got turned off. Goodnights exchanged with our overnight guest who headed for the spare room and we went to bed.
    I woke up for some reason at about 4.30am and wandered into the loungeroom and truned on the TV. By then there was a lot more information. PIctures that would not stop being screened and rescreened for days and weeks. I went to bed with the idealised political world of the West Wing and awoke to footage of President Bush holding a childrens book upside down with a slowly shattering blank look on his face, sitting in one of those impossibly tiny pre-school chairs.
    I watched the footage of the planes impacting, the towers coming down and recall my brain processing it all through a technical filter. Stress loads and impact vectors. Heat distortion and what a hundred storey smoke stack does to combustion once everyone seeking to escape opens all the stairwell doors at once.
    I went and woke my girlfriend, then the houseguest. Thus surrounded by poeple, my brain finally launched into “Who do I know that might be in the middle of that…and how can I contact them, would trying now be a bad thing, it is not like I can do anything from here right now…?”
    All the convoluted questions that made me miss the technical interaction of forces I had considered first.

  • ravyn

    I was 23, working at a day program for adults with mental retardation. Tues was our day to take 2 of our clients to breakfast and I was listening to the radio on the way to the diner. My co-worker was in her own car going to the same place. When we got there, we just looked at each other “Did you hear about that?”  “Yeah, what do you think, a ‘War of the Worlds’ kind of thing?” “Must be…” We continued our breakfast and afterwards went back to the office. By this point we were fairly sure it wasn’t a hoax, but still had no real info. The rest of the day, our office huddled around radios and tried calling friends and family. We live in Eastern Pennsylvania and most of us knew at least someone in NYC. The clients who were lower functioning had no idea why their “teachers” were distracted and teary-eyed, and reacted to the atmosphere. But the one who were higher functioning…they understood enough and reacted with their own confusion and extreme emotions and made things that much worse for us. I didn’t see the footage til later that night and it was even more horrifying than the appalling images my imagination had come up with. 

  • Brannon Crain

    Truce is the song that made me love The Dresden Dolls.

  • Giselle

    I was 11 when this happened and I can remember coming home from school, without knowing anything had happened at the other side of the world in the last hour. Here they do not watch any television unless the Queen is on it. So when I opened the back door my mum was just standing in front of the television, baffled, her ironing in front of her and oblivious to the work she still had to do. The news had just caught up with the live footage from CNN and right as I said there the second planed crashed into the tower. I was too young to understand the severe nature of the attack. It was all so surreal, so other end of the world, that I just couldn’t phantom the impact of this attack. I still can imagine why somebody would do such a gruesome thing.

    In the years after 09/11, which doesn’t make sense to Europeans as for us it happened on 11/09, but anyway, I just felt like Bush and the USA was dragging us into war. We went under peer pressure because a tiny country like the one I live in only counts when they dance to the big man’s feet it seems.  As terrorism attacks here get closer 09/11 just seems to become a distant thing of the past.

    Knowing for a fairly young age how much hate there is in the world just makes me hate the world in return. 

  • Kat Eberhardt

    I had been in Upstate New York as an exchange student (from Germany) for three weeks when the director of my new High School entered our Biology Class. he said something about an explosion and the WTC. My English wasn’t that good at that point, so I thought a little bomb had exploded up on the roof or something, as a prank. I had been on top of the WTC when I had arrived in the US three weeks before, so I could imagine my (obviously false) idea of what had happened. my teacher freaked out, saying she had a daughter in NYC. She, and some others, left the classroom to call their relatives (there were no mobile phones back then, at least few people had them).
    It was only until lunch break I got worried when a girl came up to me, asking: How are you feeling? you must be worried, now that WW III might come and you’re here and can’t go home to your family.
    She then explained to me what REALLY had happened and indeed I got more concerned.
    When I got home from school, I checked my mails and it appeared to me that my German friends and family were almost more worried about the whole situation than were the Americans. They also talked about WW III, and that some had already purchased massive amounts of water bottles, just in case.
    I remember that on that day, I had a feeling I never had before and never had again afterwards. It wasn’t the worst day of my life, I had been feeling worse due to personal reasons. But it was some kind of terror larger than myself and my usual self-centered tragedy. It was much more existential, and the fear was related to a worry about all fellow human beings. Plus, it was the only day of my life when I could slightly imagine how my grandparents must have felt during WW II, and I could hardly believe that they and basically all of Western civilization back then had to endure this kind of terror (and worse) for several years. It took my breath away.
    My host family who I lived with that year was Christian, but in a rather fundamentalist way. I remember 9-11 was a Wednesday night, and they made me go to “Generation church”, the service for young people. A young guy, the leader of the bunch, prayed with the group on that night, and he shouted out: Satan is here now, he has just arrived on Earth! He has performed his first action, and there are more to come! And it’s just fair, God, because in the World Trade Center, there sure were some homosexuals, so we know, it had to happen. Please spare us, though, for we are your people, and we worship you!
    Now that didn’t help, since the past months had been the time when I was slowly realizing that my own sexuality was somewhat different from others and that I liked girls a lot more than boys..
    What that geek in church said didn’t worry me. I knew there was no God, or Satan, who had come down to Earth because of all the faggots in the WTC. Still, that visit to church didn’t help to take away my fear, either, because I just couldn’t believe that this was truly their opinion, their way to cope with the whole situation, and I felt even more alone then because I surely couldn’t talk to my host family about it all! Now I was not only in a foreign country, attacked by idiots, I was also surrounded by a different kind of idiots!
    The strange thing is, I don’t remember when the fear got away. I think it kind of sneaked out of people’s lives, being substituted by a relief that no additional attacks were taking place (maybe Satan was still busy having fun with the faggot office workers of the WTC) and, at least for the Americans, a rage towards Osama and his fellows.
    I remember that one week after the attacks, we had a minute’s silence in High School and some student played a really bad and sqeaky violin song, transmitted into every classroom via the loudspeakers. I think in every other country, the kids would have laughed.
     But in the US, even the 16 year olds were patriot enough to keep their mouth shut and stand proudly, with their right hands on their hearts, to honour their country, silently seeking revenge.

  • Joe Manchik


  • Emily Rose678

    I was fifteen. I can barely remember what it was like to be fifteen.
    Confused Amoeba,  Conflicted dreamer.
    I was spending every night with a high school teacher. Curled up and naive.
    I woke on the other side of the world
    We heard about it on the morning radio, switched on the Television.
    It was hard to believe it wasn’t a movie,
    I’d never even seen a building that tall before, and there were these black forms,
    these people falling from such a great height.
    we went to school, the flags at half mast. 300 kids, gathered on the asphalt, in silence.
    in fear.

  • Guest

    I have so many interconnected, loopy memories and stories from that day.  A hundred things were happening at once while simultaneously my whole world stood still.

    I am a New Yorker, though I was living on the West Coast in 2001.  That morning I was awoken by a phone call from a friend across town who did nothing but scream, “They’re dropping bombs on your city!  They’re bombing World Trade!” I almost threw up as I ran the 10 feet to my tv.  On one hand, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing but it was also immediately, sickeningly real.  Somewhere deep in me I just knew.  My brain went into major crisis mode which, for me, means take CONTROL – because I’m pretty tough that way.  So I got online and frantically started looking for a flight to NYC, any plane, any airline, any price, I didn’t care….  Then I realized.  There was no getting home unless I was going to walk.  (Yeah, “true” New Yorker here – I don’t drive.  Never learned.)  All I wanted to do was be there, to defy the laws of time and space and get there now, 10 minutes ago, yesterday. I concocted various schemes for making that happen, each more ridiculous than the last.  I knew there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to help but if my city and my loved ones were going through hell, I was determined to be there with them.  If that meant a building fell on me when I got there or my plane dropped out of the sky while I was trying, it didn’t matter much.  In that moment I understood with perfect clarity the overwhelming primal instinct to PROTECT.  It’s an attribute usually reserved for speaking of parents and children but it turns out you can feel that for a city, too.  I still have an enormously visceral reaction when I think about it.

    All the while, I was phoning NYC.  My head was racing but I was getting the slow frustrating silence of nothing, nothing, nothing.

    I had friends who worked in and near the towers and when I couldn’t get
    through to them on the phone I started calling their families, anyone
    who might have word, but none of those calls were successful either.  The lack of human interaction was getting to me, as was the helplessness of not being able to do anything, so I called the one person I was sure I could get hold of, my boyfriend of 2 years who was down the coast from me in Los Angeles.  Who else would I turn to for comfort?  The man I loved seemed the best candidate. We acknowledged the events of the morning with a freaky calm and he didn’t ask how I was or, more importantly, if I’d had word about my NY friends and family.  There was some kind of … tone or something in his voice that made me realize I had to hold it together because there wasn’t going to be any solace found from him.  He was so detached and part of my brain rationalized that it was because he was in shock, right along with the rest of the country.  The other part of my brain couldn’t understand how he could be so unfeeling and not offer even one word of comfort, why no “I love you” was forthcoming let alone the news that he was jumping in the car to race to me.  In the middle of everything, what I really wanted to do was unleash all my rage and fear on him and yell, “Really, motherfucker?  You’re not speeding up I-5 this very instant so you can hold me in your arms? Tight? DON’T YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LET GO, EVEN FOR A MINUTE?”  Hell, I’d turned my back on my hometown for all of a second and look what happened.  Of course I bit my tongue and said no such thing.  Instead, we said very civilized goodbyes and I spent the rest of the day watching news, futilely trying to contact anyone in NYC, crying and vomiting.  In the interest of not writing another 1000 paragraphs, I’ll fast forward to crying myself to sleep on the living room floor, in front of the muted tv.

    The next call to wake me up was so much different than the one that started my day.  It was about 7:00 in the evening PST, so around ten o’clock in NYC.  In a complete daze, I picked up the phone and had barely uttered “Hello?” when I heard the most beautiful sound ever – the unmistakable, inimitable voice of my friend who worked at WTC!  I wish I could attach audio for you all but imagine a Peruvian Rosie Perez on speed, super rapid-fire, “So chica, look — I know you think I’m dead and everything but I’m not, okay, and I just wanted to call you quick to say that because I know you are freaking the hell out over there. (A mutual friend) is okay, I saw him walking toward the bridge, I’m by Barneys and now I gotta walk to my mother’s fuck-ing house in Queens because she won’t answer the phone and is probably at my aunt’s, planning my funeral but listen…. You know how I tell you every week enough with this West Coast shit and come home already? Well, maybe you wait a month or something and then you come home because it is a fuckin’ mess here right now.  Okay, oyeme, besos (big kissing noise) y besos (again).  Talk to you later.” I never got a word in after my hello and I didn’t care.  I could only sit in the middle of the floor with the phone clutched to my heart, laughing and crying like a damn loon because I was certain I hadn’t dreamt all that.  You just do not imagine the sound of that voice.

    Somehow, I still can’t shake the feeling of guilt I have for not being in NYC that day.  Maybe it’s some perverse magical thinking, or a manifestation of my control freak nature.  Maybe my initial reaction was right and it’s what I get for being a deserter, for turning my back on the city I love so much.  All the explanations are illogical but I’m haunted by it.  Nor can I stop from feeling awful when I recall how elated I was to learn everyone I love made it home safely that day.  Just because I celebrate my good luck doesn’t mean I don’t grieve for those less fortunate but it still feels profoundly wrong.

    Oh, the boyfriend?  As it turns out, we were together another 10 years and separated pretty recently.  It took me that long to figure out that he was emotionally stunted and was never going to be able to be brave in any sense or occasionally strong for me, no matter how badly I needed him to be.  I couldn’t help but think of him today and I felt a twinge of the same disappointment in him that I did back then.  He didn’t step up but my hometown sure did.  Jeez, I did an awful lot of reflecting on my two greatest heartbreaks today.

    If you made it this far, thanks for reading.  I’d try to clean all that up a bit but then I’d never get around to hitting “post as” and I really wanted to leave something here today.  I’ve told a few people about my friend because my impersonation of her is spot on and now it’s a blackly humorous story.  I’ve never told anyone about the guilt, or the coward boyfriend — not even him. 

    If you’re reading this and also posted something, you have my deep gratitude.  I mostly avoided being online for the duration but thought this might be the one site I could visit without wanting to scream and I was right.  I read every post and lots of you made me cry but it was a different kind of crying this year.  Maybe next year I won’t cry at all.  You know, it took me 10 years to learn a really important lesson so maybe we’re close to collectively learning something, too.  My fond wish.  Let’s see where we are next year.

    XO to all youse guys

  • Trinzic

    I was living in North Jersey with my girlfriend who loved NYC.  After years of me playing down my interest in the city, she convinced me to take a day and celebrate the wonders she was so familiar with.  She told me she liked to start these little adventures by heading to the WTC.  She said something about buying incense there which never made sense to me, but I figured I would see it for myself when we headed out.  She was a waitress and had off Mondays and Tuesdays so we planned on going September 11, a Tuesday with clear weather and less heat than the summer offered.  We both so hated being out in the heat.  We were going to get an early start, probably arriving around 8:30 – 9:00Am.  I actually was excited, even though I played it down.  But that morning, very early, the phone rang.  It was my Aunt who lived in Trenton.  She was only 52, but was very ill and called to ask if I could come “home” to help her because for some reason I was the only one in the family she trusted to be there for her.  I would keep her secrets about how bad she was feeling and not tell anyone silly things like that she was a life long smoker because in my family a “lady” would never do such a thing.  I broke the news to my girlfriend that instead of NYC, we would be driving south to Trenton.  She was understanding as always and called the restaurant to pick up a shift.  As we headed down Rt 1 the sky seemed to split, half crystal clear and half pitch black.  We were confused, but we pressed on.  My girl dropped me off at my grandmother’s house where my aunt was waiting and then headed to her job.  A few moments later she was on the phone to tell me what was happening.  By that time, both plans had hit.  She had walked into work just in time to see the second plan crash into her beloved towers.  My aunt, so full of life just a few months earlier, passed away on the 26th of that month.  And my girl, she passed away at the age of 29 around Thanksgiving of 2007.  This anniversary was especially hard because I’m feeling like I was spared to do something remarkable.  But maybe, being spared is more than remarkable enough. 

  • Trinzic

    Oh…and I wrote this 9/11/11

    10 years of things

    And ideas

    And mistakes

    And lessons learned


    10 years of steps further away and steps gently back


    Like dates on a calendar are these

    Stationary objects

    That we can control

    And measure

    And remove ourselves from

    Long enough

    To manipulate

    What they mean now

    By describing

    What they meant then

    And somehow

    By virtue of our understanding

    Of middle school math

    Determine if enough time has passed

    For us to revisit

    And celebrate

    More than before

    That time has ticked on

    Like time will do

    Regardless of what progress

    We have actually made


    But it took 10 years

    For us to be able

    To wake up on a Sunday morning

    And shudder about as if it were only



    A Tuesday in September

    When time stopped briefly

    And allowed us to be

    Fearful enough

    Tearful enough

    Pushed closer together than any other

    Tuesday would bring us

    Before or since


    10 years ago today

    Day by day added to bring us here


    A Sunday in September

    A decade to remember

  • kingd004

    I was walking to work at Taco bell and when I got there everyone was staring at the T.V., at first I didn’t pay attention and thought it was a news story that had nothing to do with me and it was this time that I glanced at the screen and seen the second plane hit…even ten years later I still find it hard to believe that something so awful happened.  I was crying by the time I saw the people falling or jumping to their death and I never watched the towers fall because it hurt…it just hurt.

  • rawr

    I was asleep when my cell rang.  My friend Kelly knew I had a class late and knew I’d be asleep.  I didn’t believe a word of what she was saying:  “planes crashed into the buildings, one into the pentagon.”  I couldn’t believe it because my mother was working at the pentagon at the time.  She told me to turn on the news and see for myself.  All I could do was stare at the television.  I lit a cigarette and hung up on her.  I didn’t make it into class that morning.  I spent the better part of two hours just trying to get through to my mom’s office.  By a happy accident (or her horrible gambling problem) she’d slept in that morning and she and her team hadn’t gotten to the pentagon on time (they were stationed elsewhere and meeting at the P daily).  When I finally got a hold of her the office sounded like catastrophe.  I couldn’t tell you what else I did that day; just that one very clear memory.

  • http://www.facebook.com/people/Becca-BiBi-Sklar/1679002662 Becca BiBi Sklar

    Absolutely gorgeous song. It makes me want to wave a lighter in the air.

    I was in 5th grade. I was home sick from school that day and I watched the towers come down live as my mom was on the phone with family. Her 2 brothers and father were supposed to go to the twin towers for business but decided against it cause they didn’t want to sit in the traffic so they stayed home. Within minutes we got calls from my brothers schools saying they should come home due to the event.

  • Amysue

    I was 40 and had just come home after dropping my youngest, 3, off for his first morning of pre-school. I dint really watch tv much and when I came in my phone started ringing -a friend yelled for me to turn on my tv ( she was so scared because her husband had left for a business trip from Logan on American that morning but she didn’t know what flight and couldn’t reach him-he ended up safe but grounded elsewhere and it took him a while to rent a car with others and get home). My first overwhelming impulse was to go to the schools and grab my own children and bring them home but the principals were all telling us to let the kids have a normal day.

    Wen the first tower fell I went numb and I think I just shut down for a bit after that. My husband came home early and took our older child,6, outside and taught her to ride a bicycle without training wheels. We have this fuzzy out of focus polaroid of her, so happy and so proud of herself.

    Last night, that little girl, now 16, asked to watch footage with me from 9/11, something she had never seen. It breaks my heart that she and her brother have grown up in such a different world. In some ways a better world, out non traditional multi racial family is fully accepted here and yet every time we flew this summer ( which was a lot) my 13 year old, beautiful son would get pulled for extra testing for bomb residue. He was often the only person of color in line. He just accepts that as a young man of color he is seen suspiciously and that makes me so sad.

    I hope we all keep making art and making the world less divided…it’s our only hooe for a safer future.

  • Norwegian Love Muffin

    What can I possibly say, that haven’t been said here already? 

    I was at work in Oslo’s biggest concert venue and had been there all night when my boss told us that a plane had crashed into WTC. This was around 3PM local time, and I had been working for 18 hours. Boss kept us updated via his radio until it was time for me to go home. The train ride home is one I’ll never forget. The train was over-filled with rush hour people, all talking, everyone scared, myself included, but I didn’t talk to anyone, and let my mind wander, to the point of almost having an anxiety attack. 
    When I got home, me and my then fiancé sat in front of the telly, mezmerised by the footage. I slept for about one hour before I went back to work the day after. 
    I had never been so scared in my life, and I wouldn’t be so scared again, until july 22, when the bomb went off here in Oslo, and everything came crashing back. 

  • http://pulse.yahoo.com/_HRMLOB3EEHNAV3MDWRJPUXMG4Y The Tom

    I slept in that day, and hadn’t turned on the tv until after the towers had fallen.  I recall sensing something was out of place, and then realizing it was that the NYC skyline on the screen wasn’t correct.  And then I found out why.
    I recall talking with my mother on the phone, her saying, “I’m just glad we don’t have Gore dealing with this.”  Surreal, thinking back on that, thinking how trivial a comment it was, how trivial a thought: as though who’s president would make that much difference, as though Bush was SO much better equipped to handle something of that magnitude.
    Later that evening, some theatre friends had a small gathering, just to share in the companionship.  I wish I could recall the things that were said.  We all said and thought so many varied things that day, all across the country, across the world.  I do recall wondering how “The West Wing” was going to deal with this.
    That night, I went down to my watering hole, where they had open mic night every Tuesday.  I needed music, and to be around creative people.  Plus, it’s what I did on Tuesday nights.
    The guy before me was a poet, assuming we broaden the definition to “people who use words”.  But hey, it’s open mic night, all are welcome.  He delivered a hastily written screed about how awful we were, how we had it coming, fuck all this patriotism and compassion, etc.  I wasn’t that shocked by it, he was one of the “professionally discontent”, as I called it.  And in spite of the harshness, there were grains of truth in what he said.  I just thought it was more self-indulgent than honest, to say nothing of cruel.  And now I have to follow this guy.
    I hopped up on stage, and realized I had no idea what to play.  I felt my usual offerings weren’t of the proper magnitude, and my best songs hadn’t even been written yet in 2001.  I just strummed a C chord, and Roger Waters’ “Every Stranger’s Eyes” began.  To me, it’s about recognizing the commonalities and connections between all people, ending with the hope we find in love.  I hadn’t meant it as a rebuttal to the poet, but that’s how I felt when I played it.

  • Imaginarybluejeans

    I was 16.  I was in art class listening to the radio when the station switched suddenly from music to news.  I was working on the upper half of a life-sized sculpture of a woman and I had my model wrapped up in wet plaster gauze from the waist to the neck, including her arms.  As we were all listening, confused and horrified as more reports kept coming in, she was the first to put words to it: “My God…we’re being attacked.”  We all looked around at each other and realized that we were the only ones in the school who knew yet because we were the only ones who had a radio in our classroom.  I think one kid went to tell the history class next door, but most of us just stayed huddled around the radio and waited for a.) more information, and b.) someone else to tell the rest of the school.  We were listening to a hard metal rock station at the time, which for some reason decided to switch back to music after only an hour.  That was the first and only time I know of when the entire class started shouting in disapproval until the radio was switched back to the news instead of more music.

    Later, there was an assembly in the gym where the principal told everyone at once what had happened.  I switched places with one kid so I could hold my friend Emily while she sobbed.  Somebody started a rumor that her dad was a pilot and she didn’t know what plane he was flying and was worried about him, because why else would she be crying?  (Some people can be really insensitive at times.  Or maybe whoever said that just hadn’t let it all sink in yet.)  For the rest of the day, there were T.V.s on in one of the large lecture halls where kids could go during their study periods or if their teachers said it was okay to miss class.  Most did.  When I asked my biology teacher if I could go watch the news, he said with a smile that anyone could go if they wanted but they would get an “F” for that day’s lab activity just like any other day.  I felt furious and sick, but I stayed in class.  I still don’t know if I think what he did was a terrible thing or a good thing.  That whole day, there were kids and teachers crying and hugging and praying, while other kids whom I’d always regarded with esteem were saying things like “Nuke ‘em all.”  (And other things of an even more unpleasant nature which I won’t repeat.  I reminded them of all the innocent people who would be hurt by those things and how those things wouldn’t help the people who needed help most right now, but they didn’t care.)  I was extremely upset by all this growing madness and just wanted someone sane to talk to.  I saw a teacher walking down the hall whom I was sure would have some nice comforting words for me.  I asked him what he thought of all this and he sharply answered that he “was out for blood.”

    For the next four days, I had symptoms of…I don’t remember what it was called.  Not PTSD, but some other milder form of a stress disorder that the news warned parents about their children having.  I spent pretty much the whole four days sitting in a ball in front of the T.V. with a stomachache.  Couldn’t concentrate on anything except the news, kept getting snippy really easily, kept crying.  I don’t know why, but the symptoms started to go away when I got a call from my dad’s cousin in New York letting us know that he was all right.  (We had already heard from all the other members of our extended family out there, and he was the last one to be tracked down.)

    The first time that I felt happy again after that day was November 5, 2001.  That was the night I saw the Northern Lights for the first time, from my driveway.  They never extend that far south, except for that one time.  They were exceptionally beautiful, and started to make me feel like maybe things could heal and be okay again someday.

    I think everyone should get to see the Northern Lights in person at least once.

  • Wrath.of.Hanha

    i always thought it was a little funny that my sister’s birthday was the day before. we celebrated her sixth birthday on Monday, and the following day i had an appointment at the dentist to get a cavity or two filled in. i remember feeling brave at first, because of what my mom told me about the Novocaine, but they either didn’t give me enough or it just didn’t affect me, because i felt all the drilling and scraping and i thought everyone went through that degree of pain, and i wanted to be a big girl and not cry, so i am proud to say that as an eight-year-old i went through that whole ordeal without uttering a whimper. 

    while the dentists were working on my mouth, i kept hearing murmurs far away of planes being crashed into something called “The World Trade Center”, which i had never heard of, but i had a hard time focusing on what they were talking about because of the intense pain being drilled into my teeth. i think i remember one of the dentists crying into my mouth as she worked. 

    when they were done, i got up, my mouth in agony, but still having a hard time forming words due to the Novocaine’s numbing effects that actually took place, and when i went out into the lobby and received a little plastic wire bendy toy for being such a good girl, i noticed that everyone in the lobby was gathered around the TV, where two big buildings had smoke coming out of them. they just kept showing the same images over and over, and my mom and everyone around her looked shocked, and when i asked what was going on, she said that some people called “terrorists”, which i had also never heard of, flew planes into the World Trade Center. everyone seemed really upset about it, but i was already late for school, so my mom drove me there in silence. 

    everyone was talking about it at school. the teacher separated us into two groups, calling one group the Americans and the other group the Terrorists. the teacher tried to get us to understand the different perspectives that the two groups had, basically explaining how Americans were afraid, and how the Terrorists loathed the Americans for having so much surplus of things we didn’t need. 

    i understand what happened now, but at the time i was a very naive, innocent person who didn’t understand why somebody would fly a plane into a building knowing that it would kill so many people. i now understand the magnitude of the tragedy that took place ten years ago, and how it shaped the lives of Americans living today. 

    i am grateful for what i have, and that i was fortunate enough to not have lost someone i loved in the attacks, but i feel empathy for those who did. but this event brought us all together, showing that mortality is something we all have in common.   

  • Schmied

    Truce is definitely my favorite song off that album, and as a violinist I was particularly impressed by the wild strings at the end. Does that DD companion songbook of yours include sheet music for that violin part, or did the player just ad lib? Anyway, this song always gave me chills, I enjoy how dynamic and relevant your music is. I visited Boston for the first time this summer and begged my friend to show me Mass Ave, as if you’d be hanging out at the square with an AFP flag up, defending your territories, lol.

    Thanks for writing, as always.

  • Jay Bushman

    Ten years ago, I left my Chelsea apartment early to vote in the primary election. Afterwards, I got on the subway to go to work from a different stop than I usually did. This is probably why my sense of rhythm about the train’s location was off, and I missed getting off at my usual Canal Street station. I got off at the next stop – Chambers St./WTC – to wait for a northbound train.

    After a few minutes, a train arrived. It did that thing that happens sometimes with NYC subway cars, where it decelerates hard and stops right before entering the station, and you think “did something just happen?” But usually, the train just limps to the platform and if anything unexpected did happen, you never hear about it.

    I had started a new job three weeks earlier – a tech company in Tribeca. A couple of month before, I had been let go from an internet company in the middle of what is now called the Dot Bomb. On the train from WTC to Canal Street, I ran in to an ex-coworker and we chatted about what had been going on there since I left. We both got out at the Canal Street station, corner of Walker St. and 6th Ave. Jim walked east and I walked west along Beach Street. There was a deli on the corner of Beach and West Broadway, and I planned on stopping there to pick up breakfast.

    When I got to the corner of Beach and West Broadway, there was a knot of people standing in the street, staring. The North Tower had a gaping hole in it, and smoke was billowing out. Nobody knew what to make of it, except for the one agitated bike messenger who kept yelling out that he’d seen it all, and that a plane had crashed into the tower. After standing there for about 5 minutes, I thought that I’d better get to the office. I forgot about breakfast.

    My office was on Hudson Street, between Beach and Hubert. For a block between Hudson and Varick, Beach Street becomes Ericcson Place. There are large buildings on the south side of Ericcson, with a park and a roundabout entrance leading to the Holland Tunnel on the north. I was walking on Ericcson, with the buildings between me and the towers, when I heard the second plane go in.

    The first thought that came to mind was that it sounded like somebody let the lid drop on the biggest dumpster in the universe.

    By the time I got to the corner of Ericcson and Hudson, everything to the South was obscured by smoke. 
    My office was on the fifth floor of a building on Hudson Street. Windows lined all of the walls, but there was nothing to see through all the smoke. It was a small office, probably around 20-25 people. We walked back and forth in a daze. Nobody was sure what to do.The phones in the office still worked, somehow. So I called my family to let them know I was ok. Later, I learned that my sister was supposed to have a work appointment at the WTC that afternoon, but it had been cancelled a few days earlier.Somebody had a radio and we had it tuned to WNYC, who continued to broadcast from right next to the towers. It was from that radio that we heard the first tower collapse. Immediately, the collective trance snapped.Our small office only had a single human resources person – she was the first hero I met that day. Sarah oversaw the evacuation of the office. We ran down five flights of steps; I stupidly jumped several steps at the bottom of each flight and paid for it with leg pain for the next week. On the street, it was utter confusion. Sarah had a list of everyone in the office, and she checked each of our names off before we left. She did not leave until she confirmed everybody was accounted for.Once Sarah cleared me to leave, I started walking North, joining an increasing stream of people fleeing from downtown. It was about two and a half miles from my office to my apartment.When I reached Chelsea Market at 15th St. and 9th Ave., I ran into Eliot. Eliot was a programmer who worked in my office. I was still new there, so I didn’t really know Eliot that well.Eliot was standing on the street corner, looking as if he didn’t know where to go. He said that he was walking out of the Path train station when the first tower was hit, and that he was knocked to the ground by the impact. Since then, he had just been walking.I brought Eliot back to my apartment so he could try to call his wife in New Jersey and figure out how he was going to get back across the river. He was able to reach her to say he was OK. Shortly thereafter he left to walk over to the river and see if he could find a ferry.Around noon, as the adrenaline wore off I realized that I still hadn’t eaten anything that day. The only thing I could find in the kitchen to eat was a half loaf of olive bread. I’d bought it a few days earlier from a bakery in the WTC concourse. I ate it in front of the television, watching the replays over and over again, connecting the dots between the camera images and what I had seen. I still wonder if the first plane hit while I was in the Chambers Street subway station, and that was why the train braked so suddenly.Later that day, the smell reached Chelsea.

  • http://twitter.com/catcradles Cat Turbyfill

    I’ve always recited this song as “bow our heads and shake hands”. Interesting. 

  • Frédéric PARESY

    There is another great and romantic song about 9/11; called ‘Flying’ played by Living Colour; and that still gives me the creep.
    It starts with “I jumped out the window to get to the parking lot
    I’m writing this little song on my way down …

    Such a lovely day to go flying:
    The sky’s so clear, the sun is shining;
    Fate has given me wings
    Such a terrible funny thing…”

  • Larissa Rainey

    When the towers collapsed, I was nine. I’m brazilian, but I still remember that day. Weirdly enough, when the towers collapsed I was in my english classes. We were all learning a few verbs when another teacher opened the door of the classroom and she was basically yelling that someone attacked the Towers and they were collapsing. I didn’t know what that meant at the time but as soon as I got home and saw the footage, I was in shock. Everybody was talking about it, some adults were talking that world war three would happen, and I was terrified.

  • http://twitter.com/Russty Russty

    9/11 changed my life for forever unlike many others…for the better. I hate to say that, but it is my reality and I think about it often. I was a young mother hundreds of miles from my husband living with my parents. My parents thought I was visiting. I had been there a month without speaking to my husband. They kept wondering when I was going to go home. But I didn’t know how to tell them that I didn’t have a home anymore. My husband and I were separated and I knew in my heart that divorce was our future. I felt so sad and lifeless. I couldn’t believe that my husband didn’t want me or our child anymore. 

    My mother woke me up that morning whispering, “We’ve just been attacked by terrorists. They hit the world trade center.” We got up just in time to see the second plane hit the towers. I was in shock and then started crying. My mom kept getting ready for work and I remember feeling like you can’t leave me! I can’t handle this alone! We were in California, so in no danger, but it sure felt like the end of the world as we knew it. At that point we didn’t even know my mom’s friend was in one of the towers that day. All that ever came home was his wedding ring. 

    After my mother left for work I picked up the phone and called my husband. When he answered I was crying loudly and he said, “When are you coming home?” I broke down and told him how much I loved him and how we had to fix things. He told me he loved me too so much and just wanted me to come home. 9/11 made us realize how fleeting life is and how blessed we were to still have each other. It was a long time before I could physically go home, because my father would not allow me to get on a plane. Fear held us hostage. But during that time my husband and I spent a lot of time talking and emailing each other. The day I finally flew home my father started sobbing in the airport and told me he loved me. The first time he’d told me that as an adult. 

    Ten years later and our life is so different. My husband has become the partner I always dreamed off. We are best friends and have learned we can handle anything together. We even moved to live near my family, because after 9/11 I knew I didn’t want to live my life with any regrets not seeing the people we love on a regular basis. 9/11 still breaks my heart and is something I will never forget. But for me I know that it was a huge wake up call in my life and changed things for me in a way probably nothing else would have. I hate that it took a tragedy like that to make me wake the fuck up, but I’m thankful that I realized before it was too late how important loved ones really are in our life. 

  • http://twitter.com/smartlysarah Sarah Hunter

    Someone asked me yesterday why I never share my 9/11 story and
    get so agitated when everyone else does on this day. I suppose I can
    explain that now and hope that I don’t offend too many people.

    father’s funeral was on 9/10/01, in the evening. After the funeral, I
    spent the night sleepless and weeping, curled up in my twin bed back at
    my parents’ house. There were various cousins, aunts and other relatives
    who were in town for the funeral sleeping on couches and chairs
    throughout the big house.

    I think I finally fell asleep around 4
    or 5 in the morning. When my mother came in to wake me the next day when
    the first plane it the towers, I was still exhausted and my pillow
    still wet from tears.

    I remember thinking to myself as I dragged
    myself down the stairs to the TV that 9/11/01 was supposed to be the day
    I started picking up the pieces of my life again after being absolutely
    shattered by the death of my father 5 days earlier. But instead of
    beginning the healing process from my own grief, I got to witness the
    grief of tens of thousands of other people added on top of my own.

    when people say we should “Never Forget” that day and ask me to
    remember how I felt and what I was doing that morning, it really
    infuriates me. I was ALREADY exhausted, emotionally destroyed and having
    nightmares of my father’s dead face in a casket hours before the first
    plane even hit.

    I really don’t want to remember that morning. I
    desperately want to forget it, but history will never let me. I can only
    imagine how the people who were in New York and Washington that day, or
    who lost loved ones in the attacks must feel when this day comes around
    every year and they are forced to re-live the worst day of their lives.
    Probably far worse than I do.

  • JoAnne Geigner

    Today is my daughter’s birthday.  Her 10th.  Last week at school, she learned why all her life, when she tells people the date of her birth, the give her, in her words, “a weird, sorry like ‘oh, really.'” 

    My office mates and I spent that Tuesday trying to find accurate news, trying to find any information, trying to find meaning.  By the end of the day we had, roughly, the story of What Happened.  But I never saw the majority of pictures – I never saw the news.  We were with out TV and only had descriptions from others and online news sites when we could get on them.  When I got home, I found solace in not turning it on.

    After a rough night physically, the next morning I went to the hospital.  My beautiful baby girl was with us by the afternoon.  And at that point, I found a reason to switch the world off for a few more weeks.  But more importantly, I found my hope.

    She wants to be an artist. She is lovely and kind and has never not known war.  I finally explained to her this weekend why she doesn’t have a baby book (I couldn’t cut out those headlines).  She now has a inkling of the madness of the world.  But through all that, my baby girl still has hope.  And so do I.

  • http://thesecretatheist.wordpress.com TheSecretAtheist

    I was in college studying music, my junior year, had an 8am (Central time) class which met in a room just off the main office for the music department. When I got to the office the secretary said there was some news about a plane hitting the WTC. It would have just happened, so news reports were obviously very vague. I assumed it was an aviation accident and also assumed it to be a small private plane. Went to class as usual, not overly concerned. I also thought it might be some kind of hoax.

    When we took our break there was lots more news: Another plane had hit the WTC  and one had hit the Pentagon while we were in class, obviously no longer an accident. I think the PA crash was still not being accurately reported at the time. I’m pretty sure that the first tower had collapsed but not the second one, by the time we took our break. Actually, looking at the timeline, the second tower probably went down while we were on our break. I had chills, it came back to me just now as I typed this recollection. That feeling that it isn’t an accident but an attack. We continued our class, however.

    The rest of the day was pretty odd to me, I didn’t have any more classes that I remember that day, or the school may have cancelled the afternoon classes, I did work in the computer lab and remember tracking the news constantly. I also remember being kind of in a daze for most of that day.

    The next day all I remember is going to church that evening (Wednesday night we had prayer meeting and I did my planning on Wednesdays, I was the choir director at a small church in rural Mississippi), but I didn’t feel any special spiritual connection to any of it. I was already drifting away from conservative Christianity and actually from religion in general (as you can probably tell from my name) and I was more than a little bothered by the people saying that the attacks were god’s punishment on America and the people calling for revenge on all Muslims. 9/11 wasn’t the reason I became an atheist, but it was another step down that road for me.

  • http://twitter.com/budgie Lee ‘Budgie’ Barnett

    I Wrote the following in the days after 9/11; still processing that it’s ten years later.

    11th September 2001, I was at work. In the UK.

    I work for a company that’s owned by the same guys on the other side of the pond that own the Weather Channel. So, I’m walking to the bank. I’ve got a float to pick up for one of my people who is off to Cyprus to do a film shoot. It’s about five past two in the afternoon, British time. I’m just approaching the bank when my mobile rings. It rings with the Mickey Mouse Club theme tune, so I know it’s Laura calling.

    I answer it. “Hey, sweetheart.”

    “Don’t say anything,” comes the response. “Two planes have just crashed into the World Trade Centre. They think it’s terrorist. PHONE IAN **NOW**!”

    I think I’ve misheard. “What?” I ask.

    She repeats it. I stand still in utter shock. I tell her I’ll call back. And then I stand there.


    I notice that people are still walking around in London, chatting, smiling. I figure I’m one of the few people in the London streets that know.

    Then, with trembling fingers, I start punching out the numbers of the direct office number of my best friend in the world.

    I’ve known Ian since we were two years old. We grew up as much in each other’s houses as we did in our own. We were each other’s Best Men and each of us was the only person on the planet that knew that we were to propose to our respective girlfriends before they did. We’ve shared confidences, experiences, overdrafts, our lives.

    He’s the one person on the planet that I’m not related to by blood that if he phoned me at three in the morning and said “I need you here this afternoon” I’d drop everything and go running, no matter WHAT else I had on.

    And he works one block over from the World Trade Centre.

    A lifetime’s worth of memories flow through my mind as I punch out the numbers. Laura’s advice was to phone now, since she knew that in short order the international lines would be solid.

    The phone rings once. It rings twice.

    He picks it up.

    “It’s me.” I say. That’s all I have to say.

    “Hi,” he says. That’s all he says. That tells me more than I want to know. For Ian to answer with one word means there’s trouble.

    He tells me the situation. (Remember, so far, only the two planes have hit. Nothing else. No Pentagon. The WTC is still standing…)

    When the first one hit, he was meeting with a colleague. They’re on the 18th Floor of their building, three minutes walk from the WTC. They went up to the roof to see what had happened, what had caused that almighty BANG. As they got to the roof, they felt the heat blast and heard the second collision.

    “I turned to him and said calmly and clearly, ‘let’s get the fuck out of here’,” Ian said. So we did. “Look, Lee, I’ve got to let people know I’m OK. I’ll call you later, but we’re all fine.”

    I relaxed a bit. My friend was safe. At this time, of course, I hadn’t seen the television pictures….

    I went to the bank, collected the cash and went back to the office… as I walked in, I found out about the Pentagon.

    A short while later, just as I was telling my boss about Ian, the first WTC collapsed, and my heart sank through my backside.


    Then the second one collapsed.

    I tried to call Ian’s mobile. The phone lines were busy…

    It got worse… A report of the plane crash in Pittsburgh (it was first reported here as being in Pittsburgh, not outside it) and the senior management turned to look at the CEO, whose mother lives there.

    My boss just said quietly, “everybody out of the room, NOW,” as the CEO started dialling.

    The rest of the day is now a blur. I remember phone calls to Laura and to various friends of mine, with mutual friends in America. I remember checking in on Warren Ellis’s DELPHI Forum where all the New York lot were checking in and letting people know they were ok.

    I remember getting the train home in utter silence. You could have heard a pin drop on the train. I’ve never seen so many people reading the evening
    newspapers. Even the Diana death didn’t have this effect of sheer unadulterated hammer-to-the-guts shock. I can’t get my thoughts off of Ian. Yes, I know that the building’s collapsed inwards, but Ian’s one block over…

    I got home and as I walk in, there’s a call on the answerphone just concluding. Laura had gone to bed. Philip was already in bed.

    It’s Ian! I call him straight back but it’s an hour before I can get through the busy lines.

    He’s safe… Forgive me, but in that moment, I was more relieved that he was safe than I was for any other person.

    As he was walking down the 18 flights of stairs, he heard this huge whirring and rumbling sound. He didn’t know what it was… it was the collapse of the tower.

    They got to the bottom of the building and found that they couldn’t get out. Rubble blocked the entrance. They managed to get into the next building, a hairdressers, and out of their back exit.

    He and his staff made it to a friend of Ian’s on 40th Street. The friend, a few years back, was maitre’d of the Windows On The World restaurant.

    After a while, Ian set out for home. The subways were stopped, so he walked… Six hours later, he reached Forest Hills and his apartment.

    That’s when I spoke to him. After his parents and his in-laws, I was the next call he made.

    He sounded shaken, but relatively sane. A damned sight more sane that I think he had any reason to be.

    We talked trivialities. We both had CNN on and I remember it being weird that we were watching the same programme, the same images appearing on
    each of our tv screens, 3,000 miles apart.

    Both of us not saying what was in our minds. That if the buildings had collapsed like trees, not inwards, I wouldn’t have my best friend around any more.

    The last 30 seconds of the phone call was the worst… both of us choking up. “Phone me tomorrow,” I said.

    “Lee,” he said, “I’m thirty seven years old, we’ve been friends for 35 years, and I’m SAFE.”

    “It’s because we’ve been friends for 35 years that you’re going to do it, OK?” I asked, a lot harder than I intended it.

    There was a brief silence before he said “I hear you.”

    “Ian,” I said.


    A pause. “I’m used to having you around. Watch your back.”

    “I love you too,” he said.

    We’ve spoken twice a day since Tuesday. The last 30 seconds of each call leaves me almost tearful.

    I want to be with him. I want to hug my best friend. I want to raise a glass with him in memory of those who didn’t make it, to the families who are now suffering.

    To ask when the world stopped making sense? Well, that one I know. Around 8:45 am Eastern Time.

    11th September 2001.

    • http://amandapalmer.net/ Amanda Palmer

      thank you so much for this.

  • Gina-Marie C

    It was 1st day of class at Emerson and I had stayed with my boyfriend the previous night in the dorms. We were waiting for the elevator at the Little Building and when they opened a student was saying “…and the Pentagon was on fire.” Emerson being what it is, I assumed he was talking about a Jerry Bruckheimer film. 

    I go to class, the professor said “We’ll take attendance, I’ll hand out the syllabus, and we’ll leave to go call our loved ones and watch the TV.”  I still had no idea what was going on. I walked home to the North End past Suffolk University where students were trying to get signals on their phone. I walked faster.

    I got home, sat down, watched the 2nd tower fall, and I fell to the floor. I don’t know how I did it since I was already seated.  I mostly remember thinking how every action film I’ve ever seen got it wrong. Nothing felt like this in any cinematic destruction. 

    Yesterday, I watched the original broadcast replayed on MSNBC and I was astounded at how little we knew. (i.e. A Pentagon correspondent didn’t know a plane hit the building, he thought it felt like a bomb.  Katie Couric missed the first tower fall.  How long it took to discover the downed plane in Pennsylvania  etc.) We know so much now. 

    Every year, I also find myself in a bizarre mix of emotions. I feel sympathy, sadness, but most of all guilt. I feel guilty that all my friends and family were safe. I feel guilty that I panicked and left Boston to retreat to my family in the suburbs. Guilt because I felt like I had no right mourn this day, it should be mourned by the family of those 6000.  Is grieve private? I never know how to fix my inner war. 

    So yesterday, I also did what I did 10 years ago. I retreated from my thought process and I went on a hike with my boyfriend (same one) to appreciate how beautiful this earth is and how grateful that someone is still here to enjoy it. 

    It felt good to be outside.  The weather was scarily similar to what it was in 2001 and and even among the hordes of mosquitoes, I was happy.

  • http://www.facebook.com/emceeFigment Figment The’emcee

    got a lot out of that song when i discovered it- lots of deep emotion & pain. oh god, the pain. i found that video while i was going through a rough rip-apart with a not so much lover, but more lover than friend type. it destroyed me, you’re song stated EXACTLY what i was feeling. we can split it all right down the middle- and never run into each other again. circles, all us awesome types run in the same circles- its great, and unfortunate at the same time- cuz when it comes to the end- you get a song like this. anyways, FUCKING THANK YOU. -this is also one of my favorite DD songs as well. peace and lollipops love.

  • PixiBlack

    I was 18 years old and was asleep in my bedroom in Antwerp, I was supposed to fly back from Chile that day but had moved my flight to September 4th and was still suffering from jetlag. It was a hot and sticky afternoon in Belgium and my cousin from Scotland was visiting.

    I remember being woken up “Something terrible has happened, you have to come and look at this”. I remember stumbling downstairs, standing tired and dazed in front of a tiny television screen and thinking my cousin was pranking me and there was an action movie playing.
    The reality didn’t sink in until the second tower came down.

    Instantly thoughts raced through my head that this was it, the world was revolting against Bush’s farce of a presidency, he would be the idiot whom had brought this tragedy on everyone and I felt waves of helplessness and sorrow at the thought of all the people that would pay with their lives in his stead.
    I was sure he had ruined the entire world. For everyone.
    I was sure this event would unleash a whole new can of worms. And in a sense, it did all those things.

    Now that I’m older I know it isn’t as black and white as that. But what
    happened that day still doesn’t sit right… there seems to be so much
    more behind it.

    There’s this bizarre rift between American politics and the rest of the world… and those of us in Europe often feel like an older sibling, wanting to help but powerless to impose change. We may shake our heads and disapprove but it’s at times like these when entire continents seemingly stretch over each other to comfort and heal that it dawns on us all once more that we’re humans before anything else.

    I’m 28 now and have seen an entire generation grow up in a state of permanent fear… and in a way that day did change everything, it did change the face of the world and I still feel like the world is a little bit ruined because of it.

  • http://www.facebook.com/tiffanytangerine Tiffany Lehmann

    Sept 11, 01 I was 14 I had learned by the time I got to school that the first tower had been hit. Of course at that time no one knew nor could they image how everything would turn out. I believe at that point we were all hoping it was a mistake. I was in drama class and all of us had our eyes glued to the TV. Except for a few jock, tool bag, jerks that were complaining about how we are just watch the same clip over and over. They started cracking jokes and being utter jerk-offs, a few of us yelled at them and told them to shut the fuck up. And then, like something out of a movie we watched the second plane collide with the tower. Silence. Tears. Fear. We were all stunned beyond belief. We were watching live, we were watching people die before our eyes. Even though I was miles and miles away in a tiny town in Idaho the fear stuck us all. Our stores were closing, kids were being called home by parents, it all felt surreal. Our town is close to an air force base so there was major fear that we would be hit as well. That day it seemed like the hits just kept coming the first tower, the second tower, collapse, the pentagon, flight 93. I was only 14 and even though the effects of that day definitely hit me hard I don’t think I really felt any direct effects until the people I was raised with started one by one joining the army out of high school. That day, the feelings, the fear they all hit so hard yesterday, watching the memorials hearing the names being read the feeling of losing your footing and not knowing what to think or what to do. It all came back. Fresh as a new wound. The images still burned into my brain. The lost souls. The families that will never be the same again. The loss of my friends who went to fight for this war. I sit here miles away from ground zero and feel tortured, and it makes me feel so damn selfish. I will never forget.

  • Emily

    Amazing song, Amanda, very chilling. I was 10 at the time. I was in elementary school and I want to say it was reading class when the attacks happened, though I had no idea until my mom picked me up after school. Now I remember other kids left school early, but when I was picked up my mom said that the Twin Towers and the Pentagon had been attacked. Me and my backpack on wheels stopped short and exclaimed “What?!” I had literally just seen the Pentagon and the Twin Towers in passing, one year ago on separate occasions, so I knew exactly what they were. When we got home the news was on. I saw the recaps of the attacks, and I just started crying. I remember thinking “those beautiful towers, those poor people.” I might mention I lived in New Jersey at the time, and hadn’t noticed the deep orange smoke hanging in the sky until I learned about the attacks. That smoke was from the Towers. It rolled right down to us from NYC because we lived on the shore that was only about two hours away from the city. A friend and I went to another friend’s house, then, where we watched the news. Someone said “explosions are awesome!” I was mad, but today I’m sure they regrets those words. How were they to know?

    I remember the vigil I went to about a week later that was held at night in our local park. I remember pointing out to my mom the planes that were flying over us, finally, again. I remember the giant inflatable globe we had in gym class and being encouraged to throw balls at Afghanistan by our gym teacher. I remember my mom admitting her fear about the Middle Eastern men who were working in a dollar store: “I don’t hate them,” she said, “they just make me nervous.” I couldn’t understand that. I knew terrorists attacked us, and though I was incredibly angry, they were the only ones to blame. Now the day makes me sad, anxious, and wanting the country to come back together like it did on that day. I want to serve my beautiful country, but I want the politicians to get their heads out of their asses and work with other countries to make this a United World, not just the United States.

    My heart goes out to anybody who lost a loved one on that day or because of it, and for however you were affected by it, emotionally/physically/spiritually. If you are in a different country, bless you for sharing your story. This affected the world, not just Americans. And finally, thank you to those who sacrificed their time and lives for 9-11; on the day, up to this one, and beyond.

  • http://twitter.com/mariehasnoname marie

    I’m from germany and back then I did know something about new york but not about the twin towers. I was 7 years old.
    I think my mum told me and I remember that my mum also told me that there were a lot of people dying. and she explained to me what the twin towers were.
    I was shocked.
    I painted and drew the scenario over and over. my teacher noticed it as well and I remember that we talked about it in class. we also held a minute of silence. 
    It hit me really badly. and it still does. 
    I can still hear my 7-year-old me asking:
    ” Why would people do that?
      Why did all those people have to die?”
    and now I’m 17 years old. and yesterday on 9/11 I asked myself the same questions. and I will never have an answer. not in 20 years, not in 30 years.  I will never understand why human beings would do such a thing. I will never understand why this happened.

  • http://www.facebook.com/anthonydamiao Anthony Damiao

    I remember, we didn’t find out the planes had hit until just after lunch recess in grade eight.  Someone was crying in the back of the class room.   Ben was trying to explain how the “pentagon was now a square”.  I don’t remember what the teacher said, she was unusually stone faced.  I can’t remember if we got out of school early, I don’t remember the rest of the day other than coming home and watching the planes crash over and over again on the shitty television on my mother’s kitchen counter. 

    By the by, this made me go back to the first Dresden Dolls record.  I had been stuck on Yes Virginia and Who Killed Amanda Palmer so long that I’d nearly forgotten the self-titled one.

  • Megan Joan

    I’m Australian and I live in Melbourne. I was 12. We woke up to it here, after the fact. Mum was watching the news and everything was somber but it was difficult to really comprehend the significance at that stage. I went to school, it was my first year of highschool and the opening night of our school production. The first real play I’d ever been it and we’d been working on it all year. Everyone was depressed. No one was really talking. Our drama teacher and director told us all we may have to cancel opening night. Then our of the lead actors who everyone adored stood up and gave this beautiful speech about how we couldn’t cancel the show. We weren’t allowed to -because- the world was so upset. All our friends and families would be coming that night and relying on us to take their mind away from it for a couple of ours. We did perform that night and I know it’s stupid but his speech was the thing I remember most about that morning.

  • Xjaeva

    all seriousness aside. you’ve aged well.

  • Geertje89

    In this globalizing world it’s strange to see how 9/11 was experienced in a much more extreme way by Americans. I was 12 at the time. I was home alone, my little brother was at school, my mother was at the church, my father was at work. I loved being home alone, I used to do forbidden things like stealing candy from the closet in the kitchen. Then the phone rang. It was my dad. He told me to turn on the tv ‘because something terrible happened in America’. I did, but I had never heard of the WTC before and I had no idea what was going on. I felt this was a Big Moment, but I didn’t realize why. Then my mother and brother came home and I ran outside to tell them ‘a plane flew into some high building in America’.
    After that, I can only remember boredom. Those images on tv, repeated over and over again for hours, days, weeks. All other, more interesting programmes were cancelled. I really didn’t understand why we should care so much in our little country on the other side of the world. America is big and powerful, they can deal with it, leave us alone.
    Only years later I learned to see the significance of the event. People from our little country are killing and dying in Afghanistan because of this event. All over the world, people started to hate and fear muslims. In our little formerly tolerant country, a right-wing extremist who wants to forbid Islam is extremely popular.

    On the other hand, it gave us Truce. Of which I’m extremely grateful. :)

  • simbel_myne

    I was waiting for my very favorite class:  History of the Book, to start, when a friend came in with the news that a plane had hit the first tower.  We weren’t sure whether to believe it.  Then I went home unsure of whether to pick up my son from daycare.  The tv was so unsatisfying with no news, only speculation.  It seemed to unfold so slowly.  All I could think of was my family in Maryland- suburban DC and my friends at Pentagon City Mall where I had worked. 
    I felt guilty that I didn’t know anyone in New York to feel a connection with the towers.
    I felt small and selfish.

  • Maximus

    I was 27 years old in my last year of college in Winnipeg, MB (Canada). I don’t remember if I was already in the boardroom or if I went there to watch the news, but my entire class stood there in disbelief and watched the towers fall.

    At first, I thought it must be some sort of joke. The panicked hysteria of the reporters, the screaming crowds running for safety, it sounded too real. Can this be really happening?? We’ve never seen anything like this before! This has never been a part of our lives, this fear of war! How horrifying!!

    People were throwing themselves out of high story windows and I cried silent tears as they held hands and fell to their death. I’ve never seen mass destruction like this, never so close to home. What utter despair. I watched the second plane hit and experienced it all over again. I felt numb. Still do.

  • Maggie Levin

    I was 16; a New York City kid, born n bred. Because my parents are amazing people, they had let me leave high school to self-educate…aka “unschool.” On September 11th, 2001, I was in the middle of the forest in Oregon, about 4 hours outside of Eugene, with 70 other unschooled kids on the last day of this amazing thing called Not Back to School Camp. 

    We were all summoned to an early breakfast. Being a new camper, I assumed the earliness had something to do with last-day activities. With a bowl of cereal, I sat down at a huge table with my new, equally freaky friends, and smiled at them all – the night before, we’d all dyed strips of our hair (and most of the girls bathroom) various electric hues, and covered each other’s arms in clumsy henna designs. 

    The camp director, Grace, stood at the front of the dining hall, looking strangely morose. Morning announcements were usually given in a sunny, hopeful manner. I figured someone must’ve had sex or been caught with drugs – the only real Rules that could be broken at camp. Maybe someone went night-swimming in the river again.

    She gave the word. I heard “World Trade Towers” “New York” “attacked.” I laughed. This was a joke, right? I’m flying home tomorrow. My boyfriend is picking me up. Don’t fuck around, you guys. 

    Everyone was looking at me funny. I was one of two campers from New York, and I was laughing. 

    Things got kind of blurry from there. There wasn’t much communication at camp, but I was suddenly brought to a phone I didn’t know they had, and my Mom was on the line. She’d woken the camp directors that morning, she told me. She filled me in. I didn’t get it. How could anyone get it, until they saw?

    I spent the next five days in Eugene trying, like many other stranded campers, to get home. The West Coast kids were mostly able to get out, because they took a bus or a train in. Those of us who flew to camp were trapped in a weird hippie vortex, a bit disconnected from the reality of 9/11. We took over a Days Inn, kept the hug/trust/song circles going and tried not to watch too much TV. Most of us were sure the government was about to re-instate the draft, and we plotted our escape plans to Vancouver (where several of the coolest campers lived). I went and saw off each of my newfound friends as they found passage back to their homes, until finally the group dwindled down to me and Sean, the other New Yorker. Flight after flight was cancelled. I couldn’t even get a bus across country; nothing was going into New York. Nothing. 

    Eventually, things opened up and years of my Dad’s air miles got me home. I remember the THUNDEROUS applause in our plane as we landed at jam-packed, chaotic JFK. My entire family was there, waiting for me – something that had NEVER happened before (or since). Although I reeked from three weeks of unlaundered romping, my Mom held me and cried without comment (very out of character), in the middle of the thousands of people crowded into baggage claim.

    I confess, for the first time ever: I have never gone to Ground Zero. I still feel like I can’t look at it. My second day back, I made rounds to all of my friends’ homes, making sure everyone was alive. When I got off the train at 16th street, I could smell it. You needed a special pass to come and go through the police line at 14th, so my friend Jacob, who lived on Barrow Street, met me above it. He saw my crinkled nose, and explained: 

    “That’s bodies, Mags. That’s what bodies smell like. That, and burnt metal.”

    I have gone very near, but I cannot go and look at the funeral pyre in the face. Still. Doesn’t matter what kind of fancy lights and honor-the-memory fountain they stick on it. 

  • Embotonre

    I remember being woken up to the sound of what I thought was a very loud movie and stumbling out of my room and my mom saying “You’ve woken up to bad news”.  I remember just sitting in front of the TV terrified and frozen.   My dad was calling his friend who works at the Pentagon (he got away from the blast).   

    I was supposed to have class that day- creative writing/poetry class, and against my parent’s wishes, I drove there.   There were maybe 10 of us and my teacher had brought some poems and we all just sat and talked.  It was the best possible way to deal with all that intensity in the moment.  

  • mandyoliverio

    I was working at  Tealuxe in Cambridge, MA. I was almost 25 at the time. Two of my co-workers, foreign exchange students from Scotland, were supposed to be on flight 11, which was one of the twin towers planes. Fortunately for them, they had overslept. Since they had no place to go, they came to the cafe. We were sitting and having a pot of tea on a slow slow morning, when one of our regulars came in and said, “did you hear the world trade center in New York was hit by a plane!” WE had been listening to a cd instead of the radio because the only station we could get was NPR. We switched over to the radio and listened to a play by play of what was happening. I had opened the cafe at 5:30 in the morning, and my first two co-workers (due in at 8:00) never showed up. I found them sitting in Charlie’s Kitchen, drinking and watching the news. We watched in horror as the second plane hit,realizing that the first plane was not an accident. Knowing that the flights originated from Boston was a scary thing. We didn’t know if we were next since the terrorists started form here. There was buzz that if the terrorists were going to hit the Boston area, it would likely be the financial district, or MIT, or Harvard (which was right across the street from me). After this speculation, about 95% of the stores in the square closed shop. I had called corporate and they told me that we had to stay open, even though I told them that everyone else was closed and we had had no customers for over two hours. Of course the night shift never came to relieve me of my duties. Corporate told me finally that I could close at 6:30 p.m. I spent all day worrying that we were going to be attacked next, I mean, who knew this could happen on American soil? I remember when I went to go home, I saw people milling about, enjoying the bright sunny day and I just wanted to scream “what is wrong with you? go home and be with your loved ones!”   Our family went to ground zero that October, and the pile of debris was still smoking. The awnings above shops still had a six inch layer of soot on them, and a jewelry store across the street literally got blown in with soot with such a force that it pushed back heavy furniture like desks and counters. Everything inside was covered in soot.The trees and bushed were loaded with fiberglass and papers, and the street had a fine dusty layer. I remember thinking I should take some of the ash in on of my film containers as a reminder, but then I started to feel sad because i knew that some of that ash was human remains. We went to a memorial mass for a firefighter at St. Patricks Cathedral (my dad is a firefighter and wanted to show pay his respects). It was amazing seeing the long lines of uniformed firefighters from all over the United States lining the street outside of St. Patricks Cathedral. The fire engine went by with the casket on top, and I just hugged my dad and thanked GOD that we didn’t have to live through what that firefighter’s family was experiencing. Afterwards we went  to a fire station where we saw a roll call board with the names of firefighters who had gone out to the world trade center that day and never came back. This particular firehouse had lost all of their men that day. The next day when we went to the station to catch the Amtrak train back to Boston, we saw a wall that had missing persons posters all up and down it. It was very emotional walking past that wall, knowing that all of those people and many many more had perished in the towers.  I will never forget the sadness that I experienced on that trip, but even more I will never forget all love and support that I felt surrounding that place. I am immensely proud that my father is a firefighter. It always amazes me at how effortlessly they run into danger, without even thinking about it, while everyone else is running away.  

  • Bob W.

    To me, the Dresden Dolls catalog is filled with 9/11 and post-9/11 metaphors — and if they’re not about 9/11, they easily could be, as this isn’t humanity’s first khaki rodeo (see Dresden, Bombing of).  Just like Dada was supposedly an absurdist reaction to the atrocities of WWI, DD cabaret songs like Truce, The Kill, The Gardener, and Guitar Hero are central to my experience of the Zeitgeist of the past decade.  In particular, I saw a haunting, walk-around performance of The Gardener at a DD show in Denver that raised hairs on my neck; to me, the song evokes the dehumanization of Guantanamo/Abu Ghraib prisoners as seen from inside the torturer’s skull.  It could equally apply to police/prisoner interrogation regimes throughout history.  Moreover, the Dolls answered the tacit question of what’s to be done as an antidote to/recovery from all this disconnection from our better nature with the revivalist anthem Sing, its lyrics themselves no shrinking violet in the man’s-inhumanity-to-man department.  Overall, it’s one hell of a body of work, and Amanda, Brian, and their ever-evolving extended family of collaborators and support team should be fiercely proud of it.

  • Victoria Eden

    I was just 12 when it happened. I used the radio as an alarm so I woke up to the people on the radio talking about the towers being hit, but I didn’t even know what the World Trade Center or the Twin Towers were. My mom was clearly affected, she was in her room watching the coverage on TV. I hated school, so I asked to stay home because of it. I would use any excuse not to go to school.

    The gravity of what was happening eventually sunk in. But now, since I was so young when it happened and because I didn’t know anyone in New York (I live on the West coast), or even know anyone who knew anyone in New York, I feel sometimes like I shouldn’t be affected by what happened. I feel guilty for letting it get to me for no “good” reason. Other people’s grief is so much more real. Then other times I feel guilty for NOT letting it affect me enough.

    I just worry that, like all wars, the impact of 9/11 will be lost on people born after it happened. How many times have we all sat in school and complained about having to learn about the Civil War? Those wounds were fresh and real and heart breaking at one point. Just like 9/11.

  • Lisa J

    I was fifteen by the time 9/11 happened. I remember the time clearly, because I just got on the bus and the driver had turned the volume up on the radio, the first plane had crashed into the towers half an hour ago while we were still at school (I’m in Germany, 6 hours “later”). As I arrived at home the TV was already on and we saw the second plane and the towers collapsing.
    I remember being confused about this, why would anyone do this? I asked myself. It was something I never thought would happen, so many people dead or hurt in a land and city not so different from ours. I was, frankly said, shocked to my bones. I felt with the people who lost husbands, wives, relatives, friends.

    And then the politics happened. I still feel glowing rage when I read about these times today. How islamic people were treated and still are treated today. How soldiers and children and women and men die for a war no-one but the politicians and terrorist want to fight. It’s like someone kills the children of another man for something the man has done. The “Children” are paying for the sins of their fathers. It’s almost like WW2, my grandparents were children when the war started and my generation still has to apologize for this.

    The sad thing is: this war was there long before 9/11 and it’s still going on. Children are born and grow up, not knowing what peace is like. How is this war supposed to end?

    I’m becoming a teacher now, with major in Health and Care and minor in social sciences. My goal is to teach youths to know their own mind, to see beyond the tabloids and TV-Shows, to ask critically, why it has to be just like everyone says it has to be.

    One person, who taught me to be myself, no matter what other people say, is Amanda. Perhaps she has an idea, how her music and her art inspires and influences people. How she awakens that little voice in your mind that says “I don’t think so. I will do what I want to do and not what YOU want me to. I am not ‘everyone'”.

    Hey Amanda, thank you! Thank you very very much! I want to change the world and you held my hand for the first few shaky steps. Thank you!

  • kmwilliams

    I was asleep. My little brother knocked on my bedroom door and into the darkness said something like “Terrorists flew planes in to the World Trade Centre in New York. They’re gone.” I don’t remember exactly what he said had happened (I was still half asleep) but I do remember replying to him with “What do you mean they’re GONE?”

    I could imagine planescrashing into the World Trade Centre, I knew a plane had hit the Empire State Building once, and I could imagine a terrorist attack on New York (having grown up in London with IRA bombs going off in the city every couple of months.. my grandfather and my dad both got caught up in some of those bombings in the 80’s and 90’s. Granddad was shopping at Harrods when the bomb went off there in 1983 and my Dad worked (and still works) in Bishopsgate in the City which was bombed by terrorists numerous times in the early 90’s.) A terrorist attack on America (big cities, centers of commerce and government, like New York and DC), while horrible, wasn’t out of the realms of possibility to me.. They’d bombed the WTC in 1993. I knew that. I’d read about it in my ‘Rough Guide to New York’ when planning my upcoming (soon to be cancelled and never rescheduled) trip there…

    I was bothered and confused by what my brother had said. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I grudgingly slumped downstairs and wandered into the living room where my mother and brother were watching The Images on the news. I COULD NOT believe it. Plane crashes, yes, terrorism, yes, these things happen.. but f-u-c-k-i-n-g hell.
    All I remember of my reaction (seeing the planes hit and the towers collapse) was being rooted to the spot with my mouth literally hanging open. And saying “Oh my god” more times than I’d ever done before (or since. )
    That was it. “Oh my god.” “OH MY GOD.” “Oh. my. god.” There didn’t seem to be anything else to say.. or if there was I wasn’t capable or articulating it.

    The one thing I remember about the news coverage that really made me feel sick was the repeated reference to how many people worked in the the WTC. 50,000. It scrolled along the bottom of the screen as they showed and showed and showed the planes hitting and the buidings collapsing over and over and over again. 50,000 people. 50,000! “Up to 50,000 people..” The news had no idea how many people where in the buildings when they were hit and no idea how many had got out. So they just kept repeating the number of WTC employees. 50,000, 50,000, 50,000. “On an average day..”
    (I remember thinking, somewhat angrily, “what is the POINT of saying that? people are surely scared enough without the news speculating on the numbers of *possible* dead..” Now it seems normal for TV news to operate like that. The ever-present red scrolling news, the flashing BREAKING NEWS stories every few minutes, as if everything that happens in the world now is as important as the next thing and you must remain as glued to the television as you were that day forever after.)

    I talked to my Mum at the weekend and asked her what she remembers about that day. Strangely, she remembers nothing. She says the images have been repeated so often she no longer has any idea where she was or what she was doing or what her initial reaction was. She remembers clearly the Cuban Missile Crisis, she remembers President Kennedy being shot, she remembers Challenger.. but not Sept 11th 2001. She thinks this is because the first two events happened in her formative years and Challenger happened before the days of 24hr news.. (and, she says, she happened to watch it live.) But I still find it incredible that she doesn’t have a “where I was when” story for 9/11. Strange to think that one could get to a point in life where you’ve seen so much/lived so much that something like that doesn’t stick with you..

  • http://mataduvor.blogg.se Angelica

    so beautiful song.

  • jeffrey george

    i was 11 years old sitting in my 6th grade geography class.  almost right after class had started, my teacher had gotten a phone call.  she was frantic.  while on the phone she turned on the tv in the corner, and we watched the news of what was going on.  i remember getting a sickening feeling in my stomach.  my mom had left a week ago to visit her daughter in new york.  probably 20 minutes after our teacher had turned on the tv, the principle can on over the intercom and told the whole school that both trade centers had collapsed.  and asked for us to give a moment of silence for those who had lost their lives already, and to pray for those still there.  i was panicking. “was my mother alright?” was all that was going though my mind.  throughout the day kids parents were coming to pick them up from school to leave early.  i wasn’t one of the kids who was able to do so, my dad was at work, and my mother visiting her daughter.  i sat in school the rest of the day, constantly wondering if my mother was alright.  when i got home, i immediately called my mother, no answer at first.  i called again, my mother answered with a shaken voice.  her close uncle, a man i never got to meet, worked in the trade center. my mother didn’t say much after that.  i just remember the weight of the world being taken off of me knowing my mother was ok.  as a child i remember always wanting to join the military, after that day i knew i would no matter what.  7 years later i enlisted in the army as an infantryman and i am currently serving my second tour in the middle east.  i will never forget that day, or the pain i felt not knowing my mother was alive. now as i serve to protect our country from future attacks, she has to worry every day if i’ll make it home alive.
    thank you for you music miss palmer.

    spc george, jeffrey

  • Ryan_Anas

    It was my sophomore year of college. I had just started a new job in the cataloging department of Rhode Island College’s JP Adams library. After placing stickers on books for the better part of an hour and trying on my new job, the feel of the office, of my new desk like one would try on a new pair of shoes, the head of the department walked over to my desk and told me that a plane had flown into the world trade center. I didn’t think too much of it at the time. I imagined a slightly drunk pilot flying into the side of a skyscraper with one of those two seat planes. Sad, tragic, of course, but the worst thing a young man born in 1982 could piece together based on his life experiences thus far. 

    As my brain was spinning together these images and trying to fill the gaps making this story digestible, all the while trying to be productive at this new job, Carol, my department head, once again came over and told me that a second plane had hit the towers, and that they were pretty sure that this was a terrorist attack. I don’t remember much else about that shift. I assume I performed my task using the normality of tattle tape strips and catalogue number stickers as an anchor to sanity.

    After I got out of work I remember chaos in my mind and random images on the tv in the cafeteria building as I made my way to a lunch date with my poetry club posse, Bill and Heather. We made our way out to the quad. Heather’s father lives on Long Island, and the the cell phone networks were all down. I remember being impressed with how calm she seemed. My own parents were camping at Old Orchard beach, and I was nearly in tears until i was able to get them on the phone.

    Finally, the emotion of what had happened and what had been lost hit me and I broke down into tears. Our friend Judi walked over to us and looked onto my broken face. She asked what was wrong, we told her. It was surreal. 

    I went to my classes, many of which were the first sessions of the year. My professors offered to talk about what was going on. All of us in shock, and not really having developed our relationship enough to break that kind of ground, we stuck to the normality of life. Sate ground.

    That night, Judi and I went to Bill and Heather’s apartment on the east side, and we watched the news. I remember to this day being disgusted by the repetition of that footage, and also thinking if how cinematic it was. Almost too much… Before I went home to the woods and an empty house, Zack, Bill and Heather’s slightly unstable Lovecraft obsessed roommate from the backwoods of Maine came home rip-roaring drunk. He was in his second year of the national guard, and he was sure that Bush was about to send him off to the middle east and to his death. That was the moment when I realized that my post cold war golden era of peace was over. 

    I spent the rest of my college career working for Amnesty International, on eight hour bus trips to DC protesting the Afghanistan war and later the looming Iraq war. Pretty much living my life by the credo “what would John Lennon do”. Sometimes I wonder what I lost in those days. How much of my creative, dreamer self was consumed in that smoking crater. The greatest loss that day, more than peace, more than security, was the space in between my head and my heart. In that ether where hopes and dreams take root and grow is the true value of peace. I have been working to bring that space back into my inner body, but I can still feel the loss of that space in so many people that I meet. 

    That is why i devote my life to art and music and life and love. Without these things there is no space, no either, no buffer. And without it, our heads and hearts just grind each other to dust. 

    It feels good to write this out. Thank you for this blog. And thank you for filling my inner body with meaning, love, live, and most importantly, the space to express. 

    I love you 

  • Legolem

    Truce is my favorite song of all time, thou for me it has a different meaning. Actually meanings, it has at least 3 very different meanings for me.
    9/ 11 begun a terrible slippery slope in history. I wonder will my generation see it’s end. I hope so, but i think it will take some kind of singularity or something to stop this bullshit of terror from all sides.
    Pardon my English.  

  • http://gabrielgrub.blogspot.com/ June_Miller

    I was 14 and it was literally my second week into being a high school freshman.

    Things were so scary, so new anyway.  You’re a kid taking the first steps toward graduating into the ‘adult world’ when you enter into high school.  You heard about it all your life and wondered what it would be like.

    My usual routine to wake up was to switch on the TV to the news to have some background noise and see what the weather was going to be like, or any other topics of interest.  The first image that came up was a building on fire, smoke pluming out of it.  I stared at it and thought it was some kind of joke.  The sound was still low and there wasn’t anything written below it, so I figured some building in SF or San Jose caught on fire.  I went to the bathroom and came back, and that was when the second plane hit.  I was so unsure of what the fuck was going on, right then.

    My dad would drive me to school in the morning (bless him), and our conversations were always stifled and reserved.  We quietly mentioned what was happening, and how sad it was, and how he was praying for everyone (he’s Baptist).  We didn’t really touch on anything else.  He’s always been a  man of few words.

    Usually, around that time in Northern California, it’s still annoyingly sunny and hot, and you’re praying for something more fall-like.  On that particular morning, everything was gray. It wasn’t quite like fall, so much as just a gloom came over the little town. 

    This kid I knew from elementary school (who I accidentally hocked a loogie on, once [my bad]) was running around to the different social circles yelling ‘IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD!!!!!  WE’RE ALL GONNA DIIIIIEEEE!!!!!’ and was generally being an ass. 

    He ended up joining the Marines after graduation.  Still in, from what I gather.

    There was a moment of silence during third period, I think.

    I honestly can’t recall how everyone was reacting.  I’m sure a few folks cried, but I think it was just a silent somberness all around.  We were so distanced from it, yet it was still close.  What if they come over to our coast? 

    All I knew was I’d have something to present to my World Cultures class the next day, for a news article.

    I think the whole day was just silent.


    I wasn’t really affected personally until the next year, when we officially went to war with Iraq. 

    My sister had joined the Navy in 1998.  She had a kid in 2000, my nephew, and had pretty much been raising him on her own while furthering her military career.  She started dating her future husband when I was about 13.

    She called us one day, in my sophomore year, to tell us she was to be deployed to Iraq, to fight.  She had orders.  I was completely freaked out. 

    She was over there for a few months, when she found out she was pregnant with my niece.  Luckily, she was sent home. 

    My mind is so morbid though, and maybe just too realistic.  I was thankful she was going to come back, but I also brought up the ‘what ifs’ in my head.  There’s nothing to say an insurgent wouldn’t try to start some shit with the helicopter or airplane she and the others would be taking off with.  But they didn’t.  And she’s okay.  And my niece is a sweetheart, and something of a blessing.


    My story isn’t as powerful as some of the others being posted, I know that.

    But the connection we all feel, through the fear, through the confusion, through the struggle and through the aftermath…it’s pretty monumental. 


    “Truce” reminds me of many women I’ve had things for.  But this break down of it has been pretty fucking profound.

  • http://www.facebook.com/esmertina Esmertina Bicklesnit

    I saw a documentary on the anniversary called Objects and Memory, about the selection process of which of the millions of artifacts would make it into the museum.

    Millions, because after 9/11 a spontaneous eruption of artistic expression overwhelmed the city, with impromptu memorials on every street corner.  Poems, posters, collages, art installations.  Collections of mementos arranged around lit votives creating decorative tableaux out of gloves, badges, photos, rosaries, bears.

    It fed on itself, with no structure or organizer.  People lingered and looked, got inspired, went home and created their own contribution to add to the offering the next day.   Fences were covered — the “have you seen” fliers becoming adorned with and then subsumed by messages, drawings, outpourings of mourning and support.

    9/12 was the day millions of average, not particularly creative people found themselves at a loss for what to do, and turned to art.  They expressed and created, en masse, to rehumanize and reclaim the city that had been showered with the dust of the dead.

    I made a video.  I drove around DC recording the embassy flags all at half mast, and noting those that weren’t, got some footage of the blackened gape in the Pentagon, and kept returning to the unbroken blue sky, without a single airplane or contrail in sight from horizon to horizon.  It’s about the least watchable video every made, but I needed to do it, and I’m glad I have it.

    Amanda wrote an amazing piece of poetry and set it to stunning music.  That’s the difference between the common compulsion to create-something-anything that we mere mortals feel, and that rare thing, the truly creative soul.

  • Barney

    I was 12. I remember getting to school and walking into my English class and noticing immediately that something was wrong. All the other kids were sitting around with these empty stares and my teacher was quietly sobbing in the corner, holding a radio. She told us what had happened and at first I didn’t even believe her. I didn’t understand the real weight of the situation. The rest of the day went by in a haze, really. Anyone who wanted to leave school was allowed to but I stayed, trying to gather as much information as I could. 

    When I got home my dad was glued to the TV and I finally saw the footage of the towers. I clearly remember sitting on the couch, sinking into it and just crying and crying with this disgusting feeling knotting up my stomach. For some grotesque reason I just couldn’t look away from the TV. It took over my dreams: airplanes turning into huge fireballs and towers collapsing over and over again. It was the first time I had felt grown up, even vaguely, because I had witnessed this fucking tragic event. It was the first time that I had felt patriotic. It was and still is a lot of things. 

    Thanks to everyone posting their stories. I’m halfway through them and I hope you all know that I love you.

  • Mangosunshyne

    I had been in the hospital since Sunday I had woke up at 2am to use the bathroom I stood up and was convinced I had just peed my pants. I knocked on my moms bedroom door and said” mom my water broke ” then my mom got up I took a shower and got into some cuter pajamas and called my boyfriend to let him know to get to the hospital.
    I was 29 and very pregnant my son wasn’t due for a month so I was a little scared… My doctor and boyfriend met us at the hospital and we waited and waited for labor. I was planning on a natural delivery no drugs no nothing but, I wasn’t progressing so my doctor gave me some potossin(sp) and I went zero to pain in a matter of minutes…still no progression I wasn’t dilating AT ALL! all day Monday was spent trying I sent everyone home to sleep I slept a little…was watching good morning America and heard the news about the first plane… I knew I felt it that it was an attack… I was so scared and alone and sad I called everyone and my doctor came in to turn off the tv I was crying and my doctor held me until my mom came…and I remember thinking there is nothing better than a hug from your mom when everything is unsure…she and I knew nothing would ever be the same! I also knew that soon I was going to be that comforting hug to someone new in the world. My doctor prepped me for a c section and my gorgeous son Chett came into the world one minute before noon PST. So much has happened I married his father we had two more children…two amazing girls! We divorced and life goes on…I am happy and I tell my children every day that I love them and I hug them and comfort them when they are hurt and scared.

  • Knowingburns

    I was in college at Auburn University on 9/11/01.  I did not have an early class that day, so I
    slept through the attacks.  I did not
    turn on my TV or radio before leaving my apartment.  When I got to campus, as I was making the
    hike from student parking to one of the main buildings on campus, I thought to
    myself how strangely quiet it was on campus. 

    As I approached the doors to one of the main campus
    buildings, I saw a large group of people huddled around the TV that normally
    served as a sort of electronic announcement board.  This confused me, but it was football season
    and my first thought was a big football related announcement was up.  When I joined the crowd, I saw the TV was on
    CNN and watched the footage of the attacks. 
    I can’t describe what I felt, but I didn’t have time to process it
    before class.

    Surprisingly, most people showed up for classes.  In my first class, there was one person who
    didn’t show up, and it was highly unusual for him.  He was always outspoken and jocular and good
    natured.  Halfway through the class, he
    walked in, handed the teacher a paper (our homework assignment), and walked
    back out.  He had a shell shocked look on
    his face and was frantically dialing on his phone.  That was when things really hit me. 

    My next class was “Serial and Mass Murder.”  The day’s lecture was cancelled so we could
    just discuss what was going on.  The class
    that had been just an interesting  course
    suddenly became the most relevant to our life course ever. 

    Later , I went to work at a store that sells a lot of ‘media’
    including books.  Due to previous
    scheduling, we had an in-store book signing by a writer whose book was just
    released that day.  I don’t recall his
    name or the title, but it was about how the US was giving enemies the tools to
    use against us.  I spoke with him and
    remember him telling me that in the book included discussion of how we trained
    Osama Bin Laden at Ft. Benning long ago. 
    That piece of info stuck with me, as Ft. Benning is the military base
    attached to my hometown.

    Throughout the whole day, I did not hear one mention of
    football.  Unless you’ve lived in a
    Football School town or gone to an SEC school during football season, that may
    mean nothing to you.  But coming from a
    place where everyone eats, sleeps, and breathes football, it means a lot.  That is one of the most enduring impressions
    that the day left me with; that we had just lived through an event with such
    impact that Auburn Football wasn’t even thought about for a while.

  • Summer

    This is all so incredible.  Thank you to everyone who shared.

  • vgirly

    (DISQUS snafu.  Sorry.)

    I have so many interconnected, loopy memories and stories from that day. A hundred things were happening at once while simultaneously my whole world stood still.

    I am a New Yorker, though I was living on the West Coast in 2001.  That morning I was awoken by a phone call from a friend across town who did nothing but scream, “They’re dropping bombs on your city! They’re bombing World Trade!” I almost threw up as I ran the 10 feet to my tv. On one hand, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing but it was also immediately, sickeningly real.  Somewhere deep in me I just knew.  My brain went into major crisis mode which, for me, means take CONTROL – because I’m pretty tough that way.  So I got online and frantically started looking for a flight to NYC, any plane, any airline, any price, Ididn’t care….  Then I realized. There was no getting home unless I was going to walk.  (Yeah, “true” New Yorker here – I don’t drive. Never learned.)  All I wanted to do was be there, to defy the laws of time and space and get there now, 10 minutes ago, yesterday. I concocted various schemes for making that happen, each more ridiculous than the last. I knew there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to help but if my city and my loved ones were going through hell, I was determined to be there with them.  If that meant a building fell on me when I got there or my plane dropped out of the sky while I was trying, it didn’t matter much.  In that moment I understood with perfect clarity the overwhelming primal instinct to PROTECT.  It’s an attribute usually reserved for speaking of parents and children but it turns out you can feel that for a city, too. I still have an enormously visceral reaction when I think about it.

    All the while, I was phoning NYC.  My head was racing but I was getting the slow frustrating silence of nothing, nothing, nothing.

    I had friends who worked in and near the towers and when I couldn’t get through to them on the phone I started calling their families, anyone who might have word, but none of those calls were successful either.  The lack of human interaction was getting to me, as was the helplessness of not being able to do anything, so I called the one person I was sure I could get hold of, my boyfriend of 2 years who was down the coast from me in Los Angeles.  Who else would I turn to for comfort?  The man I loved seemed the best candidate. We acknowledged the events of the morning with a freaky calm and he didn’t ask how I was or, more importantly, if I’d had word about my NY friends and family.  There was some kind of … tone or something in his voice that made me realize I had to hold it together because there wasn’t going to be any solace found from him. He was so detached and part of my brain rationalized that it was because he was in shock, right along with the rest of the country. The other part of my brain couldn’t understand how he could be so unfeeling and not offer even one word of comfort, why no “I love you” was forthcoming let alone the news that he was jumping in the car to race to me.  In the middle of everything, what I really wanted to do was unleash all my rage and fear on him and yell, “Really, motherfucker? You’re not speeding up I-5 this very instant so you can hold me in your arms? Tight? DON’T YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LET GO, EVEN FOR A MINUTE?”  Hell, I’d turned my back on my hometown for all of a second and look what happened.  Of course I bit my tongue and said no such thing.  Instead, we said very civilized goodbyes and I spent the rest of the day watching news, futilely trying to contact anyone in NYC, crying and vomiting.  In the interest of not writing another 1000 paragraphs, I’ll fast forward to crying myself to sleep on the living room floor, in front of the muted tv.

    The next call to wake me up was so much different than the one that started my day. It was about 7:00 in the evening PST, so around ten o’clock in NYC.  In a complete daze, I picked up the phone and had barely uttered “Hello?” when I heard the most beautiful sound ever – the unmistakable voice of my friend who worked at WTC!  I wish I could attach audio for you all but imagine a Peruvian Rosie Perez on speed, super rapid-fire, “So chica, look — I know you think I’m dead and everything but I’m not, okay, and I just wanted to call you quick to say that because I know you are freaking the hell out over there. (A mutual friend) is okay, I saw him walking toward the bridge, I’m by Barneys and now I gotta walk to my mother’s fuck-ing house in Queens because she won’t answer the phone or is probably at my aunt’s, planning my funeral but listen…. You know how I tell you every week enough with this West Coast shit and come home already? Well, maybe you wait a month or something and then you come home because it is a fuckin’ mess here right now.  Okay, oyeme, besos (big kissing noise) y besos (again). Talk to you later.” I never got a word in after my hello and I didn’t care.  I could only sit in the middle of the floor with the phone clutched to my heart, laughing and crying like a damn loon because I was certain I hadn’t dreamt all that. You just do not imagine the sound of that voice.

    Somehow, I still can’t shake the feeling of guilt I have for not being in NYC that day.  Maybe it’s some perverse magical thinking, or a manifestation of my control freak nature.  Maybe my initial reaction was right and it’s what I get for being a deserter, for turning my back on the city I love so much.  All the explanations are illogical but I’m haunted by it.  Nor can I stop from feeling awful when I recall how elated I was to learn everyone I love made it home safely that day.  Just because I celebrate my good luck doesn’t mean I don’t grieve for those less fortunate but it still feels profoundly wrong.

    Oh, the boyfriend?  As it turns out, we were together another 10 years and separated pretty recently.  It took me that long to figure out that he was emotionally stunted and was never going to be able to be brave in any sense or occasionally strong for me, no matter how badly I needed him to be.  I couldn’t help but think of him today and I felt a twinge of the same disappointment in him that I did back then.  He didn’t step up but my hometown sure did.
    Jeez, I did an awful lot of reflecting on my two greatest heartbreaks today.

    If you made it this far, thanks for reading.  I’d try to clean all that up a bit but then I’d never get around to hitting “post as” and I really wanted to leave something here today.  I’ve told a few people about my friend because my impersonation of her is spot on and now it’s a blackly humorous story.  I’ve never told anyone about the guilt, or the coward boyfriend — not even him. 

    If you’re reading this and also posted something, you have my deep gratitude.  I mostly avoided being online for the duration but thought this might be the one site I could visit without wanting to scream and I was right.  I read every post and lots of you made me cry but it was a different kind of crying this year.  Maybe next year I won’t cry at all. You know, it took me 10 years to learn a really important lesson so maybe we’re close to collectively learning something, too.  My fond wish. Let’s see where we are next year.

    XO to all youse guys

  • http://twitter.com/rachelcrook Rachel Crook

    This was the last song I listened to before I went to bed last night and I wake up to read this.

    I love you, thank you. 

    All my love to the lovely people who surround you.


  • http://twitter.com/gitsiemonster Lauren

    this has always been my favorite (if i HAVE to pick) song from DD…..

  • VikaO

    I’m a bit late, but really want to write this down since I never have. I was in 8th grade. Shortly after 8:45am I walked into my design class which was so cool they let kids listen to the radio while drawing. Some boys stopped me at the door and said a plane hit the Twin Towers. I laughed and asked them what the new video game was about. (I had recently watched a virtual shootout in the Museum of Natural History’s Egyptian wing, in a computer game, and it was so realistic, that it made me upset they were destroying one of my favorite places.) A few surreal awkward moments later the boys convinced me they werent joking. We spent the 45 minute class listening to the radio, on the same emotional rollercoaster as the rest of the world. To us it was more personal since our school in New Jersey was a half hour from downtown NYC and everyone had people to worry about. My mom worked in a building on Times Square…but she was still on the bus when it happened, they watched it all from the NJ side of the Lincoln Tunnel.
    The key moment of the day for me, came when the bell rang, and I walked through a completely oblivious school to my next class. NO ONE KNEW. My class was the only ones who were listening to a radio at the moment it was happening, we were the only ones who knew. I couldnt bear to talk about it to anyone, I just watched all the faces. I had gained an unfair ability to predict the future 20 minutes from now when the school finally made an announcement. I knew that soon these people would all get horrible news all at once. Some of their friends or parents were dead and they didnt even know to worry yet. And I was the only one who knew. It seemed so Unfair to them, and I felt guilty for every moment, like I should have taken it upon myself to tell everyone. I just sat there, drawing two towers, one of which had broken off like a fallen tree, since that was the only way I could imagine the words “one of the towers has collapsed”. That was the last news update I heard on the radio.
    That was some of the most emotionally nerve-wracking 20 minutes in my life, waiting for the announcement, but hoping it would never happen because that whole thing on the radio was just a War-of-the-Worlds type misunderstanding. I almost convinced myself of it.

  • RiverVox

    What is the connection between Evelyn Evelyn and 9/11, besides the obvious twins and Jason’s obsession with eleven? I find it very hard to listen to the “Tragic Events” sections of the album because just saying that phrase, (in fact, I don’t even want to type it) plunges me into such despair.


    I was seven and living in London and the first time anyone tried to talk to me about it, the first time I even vaguely knew what had happened was after a commemoration assembly in my school. At the time I didn’t understand exactly what had happened, or when or why or how, not sure I understand the why part now, but from where I am, from the fairly narrow perspective of my short little life, it feels like 9/11 has always been there, lurking in the shadows. I was too young to remember anything changing before or after, it has been there in our past for most of my life but I had no idea at the time anything had even happened

  • http://www.mikehallvideo.com Mike Hall

    I remember towards the end of your performance of “Truce” the crowd was jumping so wildly that I had to force my full weight on the tripod to keep the shot steady.  I had opened the frame to catch your shadow against the backdrop, it was as if a huge demon was hovering over your back while you played.  I still cry every time I watch that video.  Thank you for allowing me to record the event.

  • Courtney

    My father picked me up from school, explaining how he woke up late. He told me how it saved his life, but I still wasn’t sure what he meant. It was the first time I saw him cry. My father worked a few buildings down from the WTC, and for once I was happy that he’s never on time for anything. My uncle was in the other tower when the first plane hit. He felt his building sway, and immediately left. Although he couldn’t get home for a few days, he still made it out alive. People tend to take a lot for granted. So sure, I get pissed when my dad is late for everything. And sure, I get aggravated at how worrisome my uncle tends to be. But these same features saved their lives. 
    I lived in a city in Jersey, one right across the river. Smoke covered my town for days, creating this fog. The smell of the fog, the weight of it.. It’s hard to explain to people that weren’t there. Even the younger kids knew that something wasn’t right. Now that I live in NYC, whenever I pass by the site of the WTC, I can’t help but remember that fog, I still remember the smell. I still feel the weight.

  • Nhoxmua2009
  • Rubysky2011

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