“Oh, my God! . . . The entire building has collapsed.”

Journalist Don Dahler is a military brat, familiar with the sound of planes. 

So when he heard the roar and then the crash, his first thought was, I think that was a missile.

The reports began almost immediately: a small plane had hit the north tower of the World Trade Center.

Dahler knew that what he’d heard was not a small plane. 

His journalistic instincts kicked in, and he grabbed his phone, dashed out to his fire escape - which gave him a clear view of the Twin Towers - and called into ABC’s Good Morning America. Dahler, at the time, was a correspondent for ABC. 

For the next several minutes, he described the scene unfolding before him: more and more fire and smoke, and his assertion that the hole in the north tower was too big for it to have been made by a small commuter plane.

At 9:03 a.m., with Charles Gibson and Diane Sawyer commenting on the pictures they were seeing, and stressing that they were reporting speculation and that they knew little at the moment, Don Dahler said: 

“Well, we’re seeing - it appears that the - there is more and more fire and smoke enveloping the very top of the building, and as fire crews descending on this area, it — it does not appear that there’s any kind of an effort up there yet. Now remember - oh, my God!” 

Don Dahler had just seen United Flight 175 hit the south tower of the World Trade Center. 

Not only did he viscerally react, the studio crew cried out in astonishment and Diane Sawyer gasped, “My God!” under her breath. 

It was the moment Don Dahler and everyone else knew that this was not an accident, that it was a deliberate attack. Dahler could not see the plane hit the building from where he stood but he could see the explosion. 

From then on, Dahler kept his eyes and ears on the Twin Towers, as best he could. 

At 9:58 a.m., Peter Jennings looked at the screen and said, “We now have - what do we have?  We don’t . . . now, it may be that something fell off the building.  It may be that something has fallen, but we don’t know, to be perfectly honest.”

Then Jennings said that “Stan Dahler” was “down in the general vicinity” and asked, “Dan, can you tell us what happened?” (To be fair, Peter Jennings was trying to sort through information coming fast and furious and trying to keep his composure while doing it.)

Then came the following exchange:  

Dahler:  “Yes, Peter, it’s Don Dahler down here, I’m four blocks north of the World Trade Center.  The second building that was hit by the plane has just completely collapsed. The entire building has just collapsed, as if a demolition team set off — when you see the old demolitions of these old buildings. 

Unknown speaker: “My God.”

Dahler:  “It came down on itself and it is not there anymore.”

Jennings: “Thanks very much, Dan.”

Dahler: “— completely collapsed.”

Jennings: “The whole side has collapsed?”

Dahler: “The whole building has collapsed.”

Jennings: “The whole building has collapsed?”

Dahler: “The building has collapsed.”

Jennings: “That’s the southern tower you’re talking about.”

Dahler: “Exactly. The second building that we witnessed the airplane enter has been — the top half had been fully involved in flame.  It just collapsed. There is panic on the streets, thousands of people running up Church Street, which is what I’m looking out on, trying to get away.  But the entire — at least as far as I can see, the top half of the building, at least half of it, I can’t see below that — half of it just started with a gigantic rumble, folded in on itself, and collapsed in a huge plume of smoke and dust.”

When the tape was re-racked and Jennings took a look at the building falling, all he could say in reaction was a quiet, “My God.”

I don’t know if there is anything else that someone could say in the face of a 110-story building crumbling to the ground, not because of an accident, but because someone deliberately wanted to do it. 

What do you say when you’re on the air and it’s your job to report the news as you see it and understand it? 

I give both Don Dahler and Peter Jennings kudos for not totally “losing it” on the air; knowing that they had to stay professional and calm, that the country would be taking their cue of how to react from the people they saw on the air. 

In an interview CBS News did with Dahler (then a reporter for CBS) on the 10th anniversary of 9/11, he said that for the next two weeks, he didn’t leave the area, fearing that the police wouldn’t let him back in. 

He remembers the faces and voices of the rescuers, those who dove in head first, the ones who ran upstairs when everyone else was running downstairs. 

He also remembers the faces and voices of people looking for loved ones, the expressions on their faces and in their eyes begging, please, tell me you saw this person alive. Please tell me they’re okay. 

Don Dahler could never answer “yes” to that last question. 

And it’s why he can’t forget it. 

In addition to being a reporter, Dahler has written three novels and a biography, Fearless, about Harriet Quimby, the first American woman to earn a pilot’s license. 

Today, many like myself will take a peek at 9/11 coverage. They may remember all the events and the times they happened: the North Tower hit at 8:46 a.m., the South Tower hit at 9:03 a.m.; the Pentagon hit at 9:37 a.m.; the South Tower collapsing at 9:59 a.m.; the North Tower collapsing at 10:28 a.m. 

Those who lost loved ones will stop and remember.

And those who saw and heard those images and showed us will remember. 

Including Don Dahler, who thought he heard a missile, looked outside . . . and probably reflected the feelings of millions of viewers with his exclamation of, “Oh, my God!” and then repeating, “The whole building has collapsed” to an incredulous world.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

 

One unsung hero

Fourteen thousand people faced their ultimate test on September 11, 1993.

That number, according to Google, is approximately how many air traffic controllers are employed in the United States. 

One of them -- a high school ex-boyfriend -- worked in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  He may or may not have been on duty that morning; If he wasn't, he was probably called in.

September 11, 1993, was the day the skies were cleared of all air traffic except for Air Force One and any military aircraft. 

History.com wrote about the air traffic controllers on 9/11.  The article focuses mostly on the activities of the controllers in the Northeast and the Washington, D.C.; the area where four planes crashed. 

At 8:46 a.m., the first plane, American Airlines 11, hit Tower 1 of the World Trade Center.  Like most people, the controllers thought it was a small plane, like a Cessna. 

But already, they'd heard Mohammed Atta's accidental broadcast:  "We have some planes. Just stay quiet and we'll be OK. We are returning to the airport. Don't try to make any stupid moves."

They knew there was trouble but hadn't yet connected Mohammed Atta's order with the crash of the plane into Tower 1. 

By 9:03, when United Flight 175 hit Tower 2 of the World Trade Center -- in front of millions of viewers who had on Good Morning America, or the Today Show, or CNN, or CBS's Morning Show, or Fox News -- they knew all of this was no accident. Both planes had been hijacked, and there might be more. 

What to do? How many hijackers were there? Would there be more planes crashing? 

Down in Herndon, Virginia, at the Federal Aviation Administration, Ben Sliney realized that his first day on the job would be a baptism by fire. 

One minute after United 175 hit Tower 2, Sliney ordered a "ground stop".  "Ground stop" meant, no plane in the United States of America could take off. 

It was 9:04 Eastern Time; 7:04 Albuquerque time (Mountain time). If my ex-boyfriend wasn't already on his shift, I'm sure his phone rang telling him, "Get in here, now." 

At 9:05, the order "ATC Zero" came over the airwaves. "ATC Zero" translated into the complete shutdown of the airspace around New York City. Not only could planes not take off, planes couldn't land there, either. 

32 minutes later, at 9:37 a.m., a third plane, American Airlines Flight 77, hit the Pentagon.

Five minutes later, at 9:42 a.m. exactly one hour after the first plane hit the World Trade Center, the FAA gave the order to "clear the skies." 

I don't speak FAA lingo.  I'm sure the FAA said it in their own "language", but the order was clear: If you are a plane and you are in the air, pick an airport and land immediately. 

If my ex-boyfriend was on duty, it would have been 7:42 a.m. The sun was up, spreading light over the New Mexico landscape. 

Under normal circumstances, the job of an air traffic controller is tense and difficult. Lives are in your hands and one wrong order to a plane can cause a crash, or a near-crash (or, in more semi-humorous cases, a landing at the wrong airport.) Plus, you have to worry about being on time, or as near on time as possible; they have to keep an eye on the weather and an eye on air traffic.  (I would rather drive in Atlanta traffic than guide people through the air!)  You cannot afford to panic. You cannot afford to show anxiety. Even if your heart is racing at 120 beats per minutes or higher, you have to talk calmly to a plane, telling them what runway is open, what gate to go to, whether or not the pilot should circle . . . all of the things that we airplane passengers don't necessarily think about. 

But "land all planes"? All commercial planes? At the nearest airport? 

Whatever switches flip in an air traffic controller's brain to keep him/her calm and steady, they flipped, and I believe they flipped in my ex-boyfriend's brain. He, and his colleagues, spoke the FAA language that told what plane to go where, what runway to land on, whether to circle the airport before landing, whether to send them on to another airport because they didn't have room.

According to the National Archives, the skies were clear by 12:16 p.m.; 10:16 p.m. by Alburquerque time, two and a half hours after the order to "clear the skies". 

Two and a half hours for someone to sit with headphones on, to strain to listen to a pilot, to look at a radar and keep track of a plane's location, and all the while knowing that four planes had crashed, wondering if there were any more hijackers, would there be any more crashes?

But they did it. In two and a half hours. 

We remember the FDNY and the NYPD when we think of the heroes of 9/11, as well we should. We remember them going up while everyone else is going down. 

But the people manning the microphones, the headphones, the radar, guiding the planes to safe landings when they were not prepared to handle the sudden load of air traffic  . . . they were heroes, too.

My 20th high school reunion came six weeks before 9/11. My ex-boyfriend and I didn't part on the world's best terms. He did get in touch with me much later through e-mail and he apologized for his behavior. At our reunion, the last words I said to him were, "I wish you well." 

And then, six weeks later, 9/11 happened. 

Not only was I horrified at the events as they unfolded, I was concerned about the ex-boyfriend. I knew it had to be stressful and trying. So I popped off an email asking, are you okay?

He responded, "Yes. Thanks for thinking about us."

I have not heard from him since then, and since he has a life, I don't expect to. 

But he belongs to that group of unsung heroes that cleared the skies on a horrible day. 

To him, and to every other unsung hero, I say, "thank you".

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Getting on with it, 20 years later

What more can I say about 9/11 that hasn't already been said, twenty years later?

We who are old enough to remember where we were, we've talked about where we were when we found out and how we felt. 

We've been through a 20-year war that began as a direct result of 9/11 and just ended in chaos a few weeks ago, and that's left everyone wondering, was it worth it? 

"Homeland Security" is now a regular phrase in the nation's vocabulary. 

We've grown used to the TSA's pat-downs, to taking off our shoes before we go through security screening, to buying 3 oz. bottles for our liquids.

This year's graduating seniors weren't even born when 9/11 happened. They learn about it in history class. 

Too many of us are too suspicious of anyone that doesn't look like us. 

And every September 11th, for too many, the bandage gets ripped off the wound, leaving it raw and exposed. We hear the reading of the names at Ground Zero, see the tears, see the photos of lost loved ones. 

Some want to remember. Some want to move on. 

Today, one of the "name readers" at Ground Zero specifically remembered her sister. I think the sister's name was Cathy.  

Cathy's sister said that one of Cathy's phrases was, "Get over it."

And then she said, "We've never gotten over it, but we've gotten on with it."

Getting on with it.

Maybe that is what should sum up these 20 years since 9/11. We have gotten on with it. 

But how well have we gotten on with it? 

Sixty-five children of 9/11 victims grew up to be first responders. 

Others enlisted in the military, wanting to serve and defend their country. 

And others looked for meaning in this tragedy. Some found a way to "get on with it" by serving others. 

Others have not.

They have "gotten on with it" by pointing fingers of blame at people who were not to blame, and encouraging hatred of people that should never be hated.

They have "gotten on with it" by using the phrase "America First" to excuse their hatred towards people and ideologies they do not like. 

Which leads to the question:  How am I "getting on with it"?

I'm remembering a personal loss today, in addition to the losses on 9/11:  my father died on September 11th, 1993, after fighting with Lou Gehrig's disease. He would probably be the type of person to say, "Get over it."

I also lost my mother in 2017. 

Like everyone, I am navigating a world dealing with a pandemic. 

I've spent nearly 20 years dealing with the reality of autism, the losses that it sometimes brings and the many gains it has brought.

There are days I seethe in anger and frustration at the finger-pointing and blaming going on in today's society. I fear that another 9/11 will not unite us. Instead, it will break us. 

My heart is especially broken over Christians fighting Christians over how to handle the pandemic, how to respond to racial issues, how to deal with the current political climate, and other subjects. 

So where do I go?  How do I "get on with it"? How do we all "get on with it"? 

Well, the longer I live, the fewer answers I have. 

But for me, I have to look to who is outside myself, and that is God. I know Him as someone who knows and understands my anger and pain, and my questions, and who can take it. I don't understand Him at times, and I don't understand at times why He continues to allow pain and evil in this world. 

And yet, I believe, in spite of my anger, in spite of my pain, in spite of the many times I have shaken my fist at God and demanded to know, why are you allowing this to happen?  I still believe He loves me, I still believe He is a God of love, I still believe He exists, and I still believe He is there.  

So how do I get on with it?

I reach up, put my hand in His, and together, we move forward.

Today is a day to stop and remember. For some, it's a day to stop and grieve. 

For all of us, tomorrow will be another day to get on with it. 

So, to combine the words of Cathy's sister and the last words of Todd Beamer, one of the heroic passengers of United Flight 93 . . . Get on with it. Are you ready? Let's roll.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.