Never Forget...

I will never forget. How could I? How could anyone born before 1991 forget this horrible day? I was 19, and in Atlantic City, NJ for rehearsals before the Miss America Pageant that was to take place that following week. It was a beautiful day. Isn’t that what everyone remembers about the morning? Blue skies, and crystal clear sunshine. Just a perfect post-summer September day. The kind of day that you wake up thankful and happy to be alive. We had been in rehearsals since the previous week with publicity events at night. We were all so excited. Our photos were up in the hotels we were each staying in, and we were treated like celebrities. The Miss America Pageant was a tradition in Atlantic City. Residents loved it. There is a museum that holds all the past Miss America gowns and on the Boardwalk, you will find a statue of Burt Parks holding a crown, that when you put your head under the crown, “There she is” plays. The famous “Show us your shoes” boardwalk parade where everyone comes out to see all of the contestants from that year dressed in outfits and shoes decorated for the state she represents. I was so excited to show off the beautiful hand-sewn and beaded Mukluks I was all set to wear as a representation of beautiful Alaska. That parade on the Boardwalk never happened, and as for our photos all over the hotels…they quickly came down.

Everyone remembers the day differently. If you asked any of my 49 colleagues from all over the country, they might remember varying details, but this is what I remember. I walked into the dressing room at the Convention Hall that morning ready to start the day. I thought it was odd that the girls who were already there were huddled around a TV. What were they watching? As soon as I came close enough to see, the second plane hitting the South Tower flashed across the screen. Don’t so many memories of this day start like this? Everyone in the country who was awake at 8:46 am had received some sort of word that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York City at which point they turned on their TVs just in time to see the second plane hit the South Tower, just in time to have the horrific image imprinted in our minds forever. What was to come next was a painful realization that the country was under attack. The confusion then panic set in when I realized this was happening in New York City, home to my two brothers. 

The following days are a blur of tears and crying and being terrified of what unknown was next. I cannot even imagine what New Yorkers were going through. So many people had died and so many others had lost their loved ones all in one fail swoop. As the week unfolded we started learning about more and more friends and relatives that were killed in the attacks. A volunteer for the program found out that her cousin was one of the pilots flying the plane that crashed in Shanksville, PA, or at least that’s what I was told. I will never forget the sound of her screaming in the next room when they told her the news. I will never forget calling my brother and being told “you could play hockey in Time Square that’s how quiet it is here.” While most people that had tickets to come to see me in Atlantic City, my mom, grandma, and siblings still came. My mom told me that terrorists would have to take down her plane before she missed her daughter competing in the Miss America Pageant.

The days leading up to the pageant were weird. Press conferences discussing whether the show would go on. Security escorts to take us even to the bathroom and follow our cars home in the evening to make sure we were safe. It was all surreal. I cried all the time. I had just lost my father that previous February, my grandma was diagnosed with cancer and my boyfriend’s father had suddenly died from a heart attack. It was a year of great loss for me and 9/11 just added to the grief.

I wasn’t from New York. I didn’t know a whole lot of people that were there during those days. I did go to visit my brothers shortly after 9/11 and to be honest, I don’t really remember much from the trip. Perhaps because it’s all a blur. In the last 16 years that I have lived in NYC however, 9/11 comes up in conversation pretty frequently. Less often as the years go by but still, sitting in an office someone is bound to start talking about that day “Remember 9/11? Where were you?”

Everyone remembers…
”My dad came to pick me up from school, I was 8 and didn’t know what was happening”
”I had an interview later that morning in the North Tower. The woman who was supposed to interview me died.”
”I was taking the Subway to work and came out above ground just in time to see the tower hit”
”I walked home that day over the 59th street bridge/the Brookly Bridge/the Manhattan Bridge, it took hours.”
”We could see the smoke down 6th avenue all the way from Midtown”
”I was working at ‘Windows on the World’. I didn’t go to work that day because I had a late doctor’s appointment. I lost members of my team”
”I lost several friends who were firefighters, working in the towers, or later went to war to fight for the country”

These are the stories that I’ve filed away in my mind over the years residing in New York City. These are the stories that made me realize how truly awful that day was for all of New York and especially those who lost their lives or those of their loved ones. My story? I know it doesn’t compare to the heroic tales told of what was happening in Manhattan, but my story is one I’ve never heard except from 49 other people who share the memories with me. On September 11th, 2001 I was with one girl from each state of our great nation. Crying, praying, remembering.

I will never forget…how could I?

Photo Credit - Steve Harvey @trommelkopf