September 11, 2001
I live in Los Angeles. As I was getting ready for work, I got a call from my grandmother, who lived in New Jersey, about the attacks. I don’t think she even said what was going on, just something like, “Turn on the TV, there’s something terrible happening in New York.” I turned on the TV and had a minute or two of cognitive dissonance as I saw only one of the two towers standing. The idea that one of the World Trade Center towers was gone was too strange, and I quickly put the thought out of my mind. A minute later I saw a replay of the building falling.
I remember the days that followed as feeling really strange. All the media concentration on the attacks, and how it was nearly the only thing that even friends and family talked about for a few days straight, made all the predictions of “the death of irony” and how “the world has changed forever” almost believable.
The day after the attacks, I saw a car driving around the streets near my work, horn blaring, with an American flag flying out the window, and a big, hand printed, cardboard sign on the back that said something like “U.S.A. TIME TO KICK ASS!” and I thought, “Oh, this is going to turn ugly soon.”
A year later (nearly to the day), my son was born. And, while my personal life has changed considerably, it seems the world has not.