Ten years ago today, I was sitting in Mrs. Woodall’s ninth grade English class at Kent Place School in Summit, New Jersey, forty-five minutes from Broadway, so to speak. Actually, that’s about all I remember. I don’t remember hearing the news, or first seeing footage of the towers on TV–the next thing I remember, after where I was when planes flew into the World Trade Center, is clambering down four flights of stairs and seeing the entire high school gathered in the front lobby, girls hugging each other and crying. My history teacher, Mr. Kurz, left school early that day because his wife was teaching in a school near the towers. But even if I don’t remember so clearly, something changed that day.
I’ve been trying to remember what it was like before, but all I can muster is a sort of vague impression. I’ve lived nearly half of my life in the shadow of the World Trade Center attacks; that’s more or less my reality. I can’t imagine what it must be like for children born after 2001 who have never known another way.
Surreal, really–blogging about the tenth anniversary of September 11th from another country.
Bisous,
Anne
Just the One Anne 
I was driving on the New Jersey Turnpike south heading to work at the New Jersey Apartment Association in East Brunswick, NJ when I heard the report on the radio. I don’t remember seeing the smoke when I turned around, but I do remember cancelling all work meetings sending staff home and trying to find a way to get a speaker we hired back home to Boston (we found a rental car). I will send you somehting I wrote on September 10 and then something I wrote September 12 (sorry if I sent this to you already).