It didn't hit me until I turned on the History Channel last night and I saw the nonstop September 11th documentaries. The date sneaks up on me every year, but I find myself watching these documentaries year after year. It hits me every year that while journalism can be fun, it can also help tell the stories of some of the most harrowing times in our nations history.
Before moving to Virginia, I was born and raised a Jersey girl. In September of 2001, I had just entered fifth grade at Aquinas Academy in Livingston, New Jersey and I only turned ten a mere month before the attacks. I remember sitting in spelling class when all the teachers were called into the hallway. All of us fifth graders anxiously talked with each other about our summer vacations, who was on what soccer team, and who would swap snacks with who at lunch time. Once Miss Shields came back into the room, we continued on with learning our spelling words.
Little by little throughout the school day, parents came to pick up their kids until only a handful of us were left at the end of the day. My grandmother came to pick up me, my brother, and my cousin at school and brought us back to her house for an afternoon snack and playtime. However, she'd forgotten to turn off the television.
Walking into my grandmother's house, you could see straight from the side door to where the television was. Images of airplanes hitting skyscrapers flew across the screen. What in the world? What kind of movie was this? Unfortunately, as all of us know, this was no movie.
In my 10 year old mind, I immediately panicked. New York was under attack. My dad lived in New York. Was he dead? I had no concept that his job was miles and miles away, geography not even in my fifth grade knowledge wheelhouse yet. I screamed and cried, begging my grandmother to use the phone to call him. All the phone lines were down and nobody could be reached. Luckily, that evening, he called to tell me that he was okay.
For the rest of the day at my grandmother's house, I sat in front of the television. I wanted to know what happened. Later on in life, I learned that many of my classmates who had been picked up were children of first responders from Livingston's and the surrounding towns fire department, EMS, and police department. I hope that all of their loved ones came back home alive.
Broadcast Antenna from Ground Zero on display at the Newseum, photo credit: Megan Roche
Since 9/11, I have been to Ground Zero many times. It strikes me as a peaceful place, but it's never been lost on me that it's eerily quiet. Every time I have gotten off the Subway on Vesey Street, I think about how much terror took place on that quiet tip of Lower Manhattan. There are no taxi horns blaring, no construction equipment humming, it's just silent.
My mind immediately brings up images of burning buildings and the fireball that ripped through the twin towers in 2001. I look at the buildings, wondering which ones are new and which ones survived the terrorist attacks. It's truly a weird feeling as you walk down the sidewalks and see images in your head of people running for their lives.
The National September 11th Memorial and Museum is one of the most beautiful museums I have ever visited. My first trip there was in February 2016. As a travel blogger, I was asked to write my first piece on the museum and what people would see as they visited. I was very nervous going to the museum, knowing how special this piece of land was to many people. I did not expect to be as overcome with emotion as I was that blustery cold day. While the museum honors those who died, it also remembers those who survived.
One of my favorite locations in the museum is called the Surivor's Staircase. It's the actual concrete footprint of the stairs that survived the towers falling. This staircase is one that many people used to exit the building. It's an absolutely beautiful sight and a reminder that many escaped that day.
As important as the tale of survival is, the National September 11th Memorial and Museum is also a story of grief and loss. There was nothing more profound to me then seeing Ladder 3, crumpled from the impact of the towers falling. Ladder 3 was one of the hardest hit in terms of casualties of first responders on that fateful day.
Ladder 3 at the 9/11 Memorial, photo credit: Megan Roche
On my second trip to the museum, in March of 2019, was just as great of an experience. This time, my friend Tiffany, who is a security guard at the museum, introduced me to her father, a retired NYPD cop. A first responder on 9/11 himself, my friend's dad shared his personal story of what happened to him that day.
As my friend and I were leaving, we stopped by the museum store (The museum store proceeds all benefit the September 11th Families Fund) and that's when I saw one of my favorite books. That day at the September 11th museum, I discovered "Covering Catastrophe: Broadcast Journalists Report September 11th" and I knew I needed to learn more about those who covered his harrowing tale.
On September 12, 2001, my dad bought every newspaper he could. Every front page had the same story, with horrifying pictures and the latest reports from Ground Zero. He gave those papers to me for a show and tell, and unfortunately, I lost them amidst my messy locker and backpack. He still has not forgiven me.
Front pages from 9.12.01 on display at the Newseum, photo credit: Megan Roche
While reading Covering Catastrophe, I met so many of the brave men and women journalists who broke the story of September 11th. I read about Ann Compton and her experience being on Air Force One with President George Bush, how John Del Giorno, the ABC Channel 7 Helicopter Reporter flew as close as he could to the inferno, how longtime CBS News Anchor Dan Rather rushed into work to cover this horrific tragedy. While the book was sad, it also reminded me of why I got into journalism.
What amazed me the most about these reporters is how they kept their cool, no matter what was going on around them. Sometimes, we as writers are so focused on a story that we don't allow ourselves the time to process what is actually unfolding in front of our eyes. This book allowed me to understand that it's okay to be upset, outraged, angry, and sad about what took place on 9/11, but that we also need to do all we can to cover a story like it so that young children, just like I was on 9/11, can look back and understand one day what happened in our history.
I have always had a hankering of learning more about 9/11. I think it's from being so young and not remembering everything, but knowing this was the first exposure I had to real world tragedy. I will always remember being in that fifth grade classroom, but after September 11th, when we returned to school, all of our little fifth grade innocence had been lost.
Never forget, 9.11.01
Signing off,
Comments