My hometown newspaper, the Morrison’s Cove Herald, asked its readers last month (yes, I still read my hometown newspaper) to describe where they were on 9/11. The issue was published yesterday, and my submission was included. You can find it here or here:
Barely any of us Central High School freshmen even knew someone who knew someone in New York or Washington on 9/11. But all of us knew Shanksville, the site of United Airlines Flight 93, the plane that crashed into a field after passengers revolted against their attackers.
I was on my way from my last morning class to Mr. Waite’s room for first lunch study period. Walking down the hall that morning, I noticed everyone in each classroom was glued to a TV. Several cars were lined up outside the school’s main entrance. I later learned the cars contained concerned parents waiting to take their kids out of school.
Most of the kids in Mr. Waite’s classroom that morning were carrying on as usual until he hit his hand on his desk a few times, told everyone to stop what they were doing and to watch what was going on.
“This is why we say the Pledge of Allegiance every morning,” he said. He had a slight choke in his voice, darting his finger to the TV. I still think of that every time I hear the Pledge.
I headed to gym class after lunch, where our teachers planned for us to go outside to run around the track that afternoon. My friend Stacy and I refused to change into our uniforms because we heard about the plane that crashed in a field an hour away from our school. We thought more planes were on the way, and that our teachers were crazy.
“You want us to run around in a big black circle in the middle of a field dressed in red gym uniforms?” we sneered. “Forget it!” They still took away grade points, but spared us detention.
United Airlines Flight 93, which curiously landed in a region of several historic rebellions, is the only plane out of the three where passengers successfully revolted against their attackers. The flight was allegedly headed to the Capitol, until passenger Todd Beamer made the infamous phone call to a telephone operator about the attack. It’s strange to think that while I was just learning about the attacks, Beamer was reciting the Lord’s Prayer with the operator and possibly saving Washington after yelling, “Are you guys ready? Let’s roll!” I heard his hometown named its high school after him.
Other events from that day: Patrick asked me to be his girlfriend on the bus home, my childhood friend Sarah was having one surreal 19th birthday and my parents and I had a very, very quiet dinner.
It’s been 10 years and I’ve since moved to Colorado, where no one knows where Shanksville is. I still tell the story about how Stacy and I skipped gym class because we didn’t want to be targets, and how I once went to the top of the WTC with my family and looked across the big city that inspired me to write.
But perhaps the most compelling memory from 9/11 that still resonates with me today didn’t happen on 9/11. It was about a week or two after, when my family and I attended a vigil in Hollidaysburg for the victims. It’s the echo of my dad, who was red in the face and among the loudest in the crowd yelling, “USA! USA! USA!”
Ali McNally
(Former Roaring Spring resident)
Denver, Colo.
