(Photo Credit: Petty Officer 1st Class Brandan W. Schulze)
Fifteen years later and I still remember that day so vividly. It was a beautiful day and I was driving into work at ESPN when the first plan hit. I didn't know it happened until I reached the basement of Building 3 where my desk was. Everyone was gathered around the television watching the coverage. I joined them and it was then while we were watching that we witnessed the second plane crash into the World Trade Center. It was shocking and horrifying. After watching for a while I had to pull myself away because it was too devastating to watch. I found an available computer, screening deck, and phone. I called my mom at her office. At that, she was a foreign service officer working in the Joint Chiefs of Staff's office in the Pentagon. I called to see if she had heard what was going on (which I knew she had) and I knew she would not be able to tell me much. Being the child of a Foreign Service Officer meant that I knew she could only say so much and I would have to be okay with that. We only spoke for a few minutes and then I hung up and resumed screening footage. I don't remember how much time had passed, but my friend Tiffany came around the corner and said to me "Patricia, a plane just hit the Pentagon." My heart stopped and I took a deep breath. Thank you was all I could say and I tried to keep working. I knew there was no point in trying to reach my mother because I wouldn't be able to get through. I didn't want to call my father because I was sure that he was praying and there was nothing that either of us could say to comfort one another. We would have no answers. So like my two brothers and my sister, we kept moving forward and trying to do whatever we needed to do to distract ourselves while we waited. Waited, to hear something. I would learn later that my sister left work early because she was tired of getting all the questions. I didn't want to be alone at my apartment or alone with my thoughts so I kept working. It was the three and a half hours in my life.
This was not the first time we have had to hold our breath when it has come to my mom. When we lived in Niamey, Niger there was some unrest that resulted in people throwing molotov cocktails at the USIS building. I heard about it from a friend whose parents were at the Canadian Embassy and I had to wait and hope that my mom would come home. My mom was also traveling in Eastern Africa for work when the bombings happened at the US Embassies in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania and in Nairobi, Kenya. Once again I had to wait. We used to joke that my mom had nine lives and that we wished she would stop scaring us. There was no jokes being made on September 11. Just a lot of waiting.
I was not the only person in my department waiting to hear about the Pentagon. Another colleague's father worked there too. So separately we worked and we waited.
It was shortly after 1 p.m. when I got a call, the call from my mother. She was okay. The Joint Chiefs of Staff's office was not in the area that the plane crashed into. They had not felt the impact (due to the Pentagon's design), but were told to exit the building. Once outside she could see the smoke. Getting out of DC that day proved to be a challenge so she walked and was able to catch a ride from a kind stranger who took her across the Maryland border where the metro was running. When she finally arrived home, she was greeted by my father who was in tears on his knees rosary in hand. She made calls to my aunt (her sister) and to each of us children to let us know that she was okay. Then in true Claudia fashion, my mom went to take a nap. She was tired and this was how she coped and compartmentalized.
When I got that call from my mother letting me know that she was okay, I broke down crying and then I went home. I was too spent to finish work that day. I also later learned that my colleague's father was safe as well. However, his office was in the area that the plan crashed into and on that day he was going into the office late.
I was lucky that day. My mom was where she was supposed to be and no where near the crash site, but that was not the case for many others. My heart breaks for all the families impacted that day. I mourn the loss of so many people. It is still a hard day for me. Yes, my pain is different than another's pain and does not compare to those who will never see their loved ones again. My mom doesn't really talk about it that much. She lost colleagues and it is hard. We have gone to the Pentagon Memorial together and I walked in the 9/11 Freedom Walk in 2007 on her behalf because she could make the walk. Tonight I will attend the Windsor (CT) Walk of Light community remembrance ceremony on the Town Green. I will bring my 7 1/2 year son and I will listen to my colleague speak about his father who he lost in the World Trade Center Towers. This afternoon was the first time I have spoken to my son about 9/11 and the first time he's heard about this day in history. A day in history is what it will be to him. When he gets older he will read about it in his history books and he'll ask me what if I remember where I was that day. And I will tell him that it is a day I will never forget.
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