Tuesday, September 11, 2001. I woke up at 8 am from the best sleep I’d had since switching from the night shift a few days before, to a beautiful blue sky. I had a good feeling about the day.
I got on my computer and checked my email and the Bannerbored, a message board for fans of Steve Taylor who also used our IRC channel called #bannerman. I saw a post from my friend Alex in Canada saying to pray for New York, because a plane had hit one of the towers of the World Trade Center.
Yeah, right, I thought. I thought it was one of those internet hoaxes that were so common in those days. I mean, how many times have we seen that kind of thing in movies? Total hoax. And I couldn’t believe my intelligent friend had fallen for it.
But everywhere I looked online, I saw the same thing. And I don’t remember exactly what happened after that, but at some point I realised that maybe this wasn’t a joke and turned on the TV. And I think I saw the second plane hit, or I tuned in just after, and the good feeling I had about the day was replaced with impending dread.
This was when I knew it wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate. And the country wouldn’t lie down and take it.
We were united. We weren’t Republicans or Democrats. We were Americans.
I’ve been gone now for almost 18 years, and from what I see from over here, the country is more divided than ever. I’ve certainly never seen it this divided in my lifetime. The 60s we’re pretty turbulent I know, but I wouldn’t know if that was worse. It’s hard not to worry whether I’ll even have a country to go back to when I finally get the chance. I just have to keep reminding myself that God is in control, and ask him to remind me when I forget.