FEMA: A Nation Remembers, A Nation Recovers

Your Comments One Year Later

As a native New Yorker now living in Maine, I will never forget the phone call I received from my daughter on 9/11/01 telling me of the unbelievable event that had occurred only moments before. While on the phone with her the 2nd plane hit. I remember feeling sick and hearing the shocked voices of my coworkers as they too heard the news. Work stopped, hearts stopped. We stood in stunned silence with tears streaming near radios and televisions, listening to more events unfold, the Pentagon hit, a plane filled with heroes down in Pennsylvania. It was announced an hour later that anyone who wanted to could leave for the day.

I remember never feeling such urgency to be near my family, or such anguish that I couldn't get to them soon enough. I can only imagine the feelings of thousands of people who will never again hold their loved ones. My thoughts and prayers have been continuously with them throughout the past year. They will continue to be - always.

I also remember never feeling such pride in our country, that feeling is one that will never fade. God Bless America - land that we love. We are all heroes.

Karen
Portland, Maine
September 10, 2002

On that day, I was working in our county courthouse when I find out what had happened. I remember asking her, "what has happened?" and her reply, "oh, lots of things." She then told of the first WTC attack. I ran back to my office and then to my husband, also at work, but a reserve national guardsman. He told me everything would be okay, that it would not affect his battalion or our new family. And he was right. Until August 30th, 2002. My husband is now as active member in the US Army stationed away from his kids, his home and me. This tragedy does affect each and every one of us.

Amy
September 10, 2002

This past Saturday, I was driving on I-495 in Maryland as hundreds of motorcyclists were on their way to the Pentagon for a race to raise money for survivors. As I made my way around the beltway, and the cyclists were to my left, I saw fire and rescue vehicles and workers parked on the side of the highway and on the overpasses. These fire and rescue workers were standing and jumping, raising flags and arms to the cyclists in support of their efforts. As I drove along and watched, tears began streaming down my face and I remembered so vividly being on the same spot one year ago on the morning of 9/11 listening to the radio in horror at what was happening in NY I remember it being such a beautiful morning and finding it hard to believe that what was happening was real. It doesn't seem like a year, it seems like yesterday, it seems like an eternity. God bless us all.

September 10, 2002

I was born and reared in America, in Indianapolis, Indiana, right in the Midwest. But it wasn't until last year that I really, truly learned what it felt like to be an American. You see, I'm in my early/mid 40's and like no doubt millions more like me out there, I'm too young to remember either of the World Wars and the Korean War. Those were things my grandparents and parents talked about. Even Vietnam was some also more or less relegated to the history books for me. Most kids around 10-13 years old could care less about politics and war. Embarrassingly, I must admit that while I was very aware of Operation Desert Storm, having no friends or family (that I know of) directly involved in it, it was more or less something of a "movie" that I watched with detached interest sporadically. I grew up in Indianapolis in a middle class African-American family and was very much sheltered from even the life altering things that were happening around me such as the Civil Rights movement. Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, JFK Jr., his brother Robert and countless others died for something that I took for granted because I always (in my sheltered child's world) had. Freedom. At least as much as my parent would allow me being only 5-10 years old during those turbulent times. So when those planes slammed into the WTC, the Pentagon, and that field in Pennsylvania, being 42 years old, for the first time in my life, my way of life felt threatened, thoughts of a war fought on my homeland wormed their way into my mind, and with those thoughts, horror, terror, anger, defiance, and so many, many other feelings and emotions flooded my entire being. But the most prominent feeling that came out of that was pride! Watching strangers help other strangers, regardless of race. Hearing about how everyday ordinary people, no different from me, risked their lives, even lost their lives, helping strangers right in the face of danger, my heart swelled with love for my people, my country. No matter what anyone did, I was still and always will be American! Maybe you cannot relate to what I am saying, but that is what I remember about 9/11/01. I learned what it really meant to be an American that day.

September 10, 2002

I live in Pennsylvania near Shanksville. As I went about my daily life yesterday, I saw the families arriving for the Memorial Services for Flight 93. My heart was breaking for them, again. I hope these families realize they are not alone in their suffering. I believe many people, even though strangers to the families, share in the profound sorrow for their lost loved ones.

Thinking of all families that lost their loved ones on September 11, 2001.

Dana
September 10, 2002

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