Every Year I Go Back: Trying To Grasp 9/11

A lot has happened in my life since Sept. 11, 2001. From graduating from high school nine months after 9/11, to living the peculiar life of a Patch editor over the last nine months.

But no day tugs at me more than what happened ten years ago today. This may sound disconcerting to some, but each September, I go to this website and rewatch live coverage of 9/11.

It's not because it's entertaining. It's terrible to watch. But 9/11 is the defining news event of my life and as a journalist I think it's somewhat natural to keep being drawn back. That's what I tell myself at least.

I watch to try and put that day in some sort of historical and human context. The problem is, even 10 years later, trying to grasp the magnitude of 9/11 is still so difficult.

World history is long, with countless terrible events. But in recent modern history, here are a few of the most high-profile, pre-9/11 news stories: the Lockerbie bombing (1988); the fall of the Berlin Wall (1989); the first World Trade Center bombing (1993); O.J Simpson's arrest (1994); the Oklahoma City bombing (1995); Princess Diana's death (1997), the Columbine massacre (1999); the cliff-hanging 2000 Presidential Election.

Some of these events were of great significance, but they look small next to 9/11.

To try and measure the magnitude of 9/11, let's play a hypothetical game for a second.

Let's pretend that the only thing that happened on 9/11 was the first incident. The hijacking of American Airlines Flight 11 and its crash into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. And that was it. No other suicide hijackings, no buildings collapsed, nothing, except the American Airlines Flight 11 crash.

That, by itself, would have been the most significant world event of the last quarter century. It was the first time a U.S. commercial jet had been hijacked on American soil since 1978; the plane crashed into one of the most recognized and tallest buildings in the world; hundreds of people were killed.

But, of course, it wasn't the only thing that happened.

At 9:03 a.m. EST, hijacked United Airlines Flight 175 crashed into the World Trade Center.

At 9:37 a.m. EST, hijacked American Airlines Flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon.

At 9:59 a.m. EST, the South Tower of the World Trade Center collapsed.

At 10:03 a.m. EST, hijacked United Airlines Flight 93 crashed in Pennsylvania.

At 10:28 a.m. EST, the North Tower of the World Trade Center collapsed.

There's never been a more surreal, horrific 90-minute stretch in U.S. history. 
 
When I rewatch the coverage, it's powerful, but not overwhelming.

Part of this has to do with me not knowing anyone directly affected, and part of it is my ability to disconnect. It's also a consequence of seeing destructive of things on television that weren't real (for example, Independence Day, which came out five years before 9/11).

When I rewatch the live 9/11 newscasts, I tell myself: "This really happened," "they were real people on that plane," "hundreds of people were in that building," "all those people are really dead."

I want to feel it, and there are moments when I hold my breath, but I don't really feel it. I don't think I'm the only one like this.

That said, there is one aspect of 9/11 that shakes me to my core. It's not shown on television, and it's still rarely written or talked about. When a sculpture was made to memorialize it, people demanded it be taken down. It's too real. Too human.

Above the impact zone of the planes at the World Trade Center, people were trapped. People, who likely had completely ordinary mornings. Maybe they went for an early jog, ate breakfast with their kids, took the subway into Manhattan and were settling in for a day at work.

Now, suddenly, they were stuck in a black smoke inferno. Their options were few; there was no way out. So some of them walked to outer edge of the building, high above skyscrapers below, and did what they determined was their best available option.

They jumped.