I still have my copy of The Union Leader, New Hampshire's daily newspaper, published September 12th, 2001, and the special edition of the Rolling Stones magazine. Every year, I get them out, carefully turn the pages, and sit with the heaviness and sadness of that day.
During the summer of 2001, I was an intern at WMUR Channel 9 in Manchester, NH. I worked the evening and late night news, and didn't have to go into the station until 2 PM or so. The morning of 9-11, I woke up, marveling at the beautiful blue skies, and enjoying the crisp air that was ushering in autumn. I made my way downstairs to the common areas (I lived in a group home for, mostly, students back then) to get some breakfast. Walking through the living room, I was appalled by the stupid movie my roommates appeared to be watching at 9 AM. The north tower burning, the black hole, the smoke.. How could they be glued to such a scene?? While trying to understand, the second aircraft appeared on the screen and we all watched as it flew right into the south tower. I knew instantly that this was not a movie, but an incomprehensible moment that would change the world.
There was no getting through to my family in Germany to reassure them that I was nowhere near Manhattan. I gave up after trying for some time and made my way to the station instead. I don't remember how long I was there, until the next morning I believe, but I do remember watching the twin towers fall again, and again, on the wall of TV screens in the producers room. I can still feel my tears and exhaustion from witnessing it a hundred times. I remember having trouble staying steady behind the camera as our news anchors were on air. I remember the confusion, fear, and uncertainty in the days that followed.
My heart is heavy today, as it is every year on September 11th. I need to take time to pause, honor, and reflect, and turn those pages of my copy of the newspaper ever so carefully. I think about the people trapped inside the towers, on the airplanes, and at the Pentagon. I weep for the people who jumped because they didn't want to burn, the first responders who went inside and never made it back out, and the many survivors and family members who've had to carry on living with the terror, and gaping hole in their hearts.
Every year on 9-11, I am making this choice to honor the nearly 3,000 victims. It's a privilege that I get to do so. I could just go about my day, stage the next listing, show a couple of houses, or post Real Estate on social media. But I am choosing to sit with the heaviness, to talk to my children about that day and its aftermath, and to hug them tight, because this is what it means to me to never forget.
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