9/11 There...

Everyone has their own memories of the day, even those who may barely remember it or only heard about it in passing as a child who was not forced to recall such terror. And I have avoided writing about it because I felt that all that could be said had been said. But I am compelled to look back at it now.

I was teaching overseas. My last class for the day had ended and I was back in a shared house with other teachers sitting in a kitchen watching something that escapes me on the television that was in a separate alcove. I must have been quite tired because I was still wearing my suit and tie and a few others were also just as exhausted at the end of another day. We all just wanted to rest for a moment.

Now, I said that I came home from work, so the events that took place happened there at night, a very different sensation for those of us who did not rise to go to work and see that attack during or just after a commute or fight with rush hour traffic. I and others experienced it as the evening was settling down.

One of the teachers who was new to our place came downstairs holding her cellphone (no smartphones then) and told us to turn on the local news channel. She was from New York – an important detail – and said that there had been “an accident in the city”. When we did turn on the news, the language was in the tongue of our host country, so I could not make out all of the details. I saw the smoke and dust rising from the building (recognized the World Trade Center) and I recognized the word “airplane”. So, as I thought, as did others, it was just a fluke accident; another plane crash that no one could stop.

And then I saw the second plane.

There are moments in your life when you know that people of a future generation will grill you for details and information about what the reaction was from you and others. I only remember sitting on the floor of that space as the kitchen began to fill up with people coming home from other jobs (I barely noticed how quickly the kitchen filled up). And then, when the buildings began to crumble and collapse, one of those teachers said, “It looks like a movie.”

Yes, I thought. It does look like a movie; one of the worst ones I have ever seen; the movie where the good guys cannot possibly beat the bad guys.

That was the moment when I remembered that I had family in Queens, New York and that I would be spending a lot of time on the phone trying to contact them and others. They were all well, including an aunt who worked as a nurse and saw plenty of the damage done.

The rest of night passed with a friend and his radio set on the Armed Forces Network. Now, I am sure that it was quite a popular broadcast that night, with various politicians claiming that the United States was at war and that all allies should be prepared to fight. My friend and I looked at each other and had the same thought that we eventually shared: who are we at war with? This was long before there was any talk of Osama bin Laden, Saudi family links, Florida pilot schools or any other information besides the wreckage of a building I visited as a child, and plane crashes in Washington and a quiet forest.

I will stop here. The events that followed were the headlines we all expected; the tribute concerts and memorials (strange how I predicted “Wish You Were Here” would be used so often, as was “New York State of Mind”). And I was soon to be back home, noting all of the American flags in the windows of Canadian homes (a newspaper insert the people of my hometown were encouraged to use), the amount of empathy we suddenly had for our closest neighbour, and the fear that the world had now changed.

We are still learning lessons...all these years later.

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

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