Where you were

There are some questions that define the lives of a generation. JFK's assassination is one for my parent's generation. 9/11 is one for both theirs and mine. And the question is always where were you?

I was living in Baton Rouge at the time. I hadn't started graduate school yet and I was working at the mall both at a shoe store and doing seasonal work for the San Fransisco Music Box Company. Actually that day we were unpacking and setting up the store so I had to be at the mall early. I remember driving to work and the DJ of my favorite morning show talking about the Pentagon. It didn't occur to me that something serious was going on. It seemed like unconfirmed rumor. I didn't understand what was happening. But by the time I got to work it was pretty apparent what had happened. The district manager for the company kept saying if the president goes to Colorado then war has started. No one really knew what was happening at that point. Sometime during the morning I thought to call BT to see where his dad was. He does a lot of flying. BT was sleeping and had no idea what was happening. But his dad was home, I think. We listened to the radio as we worked and virtually no one was at the mall that day. When we were done, we went home and I finally saw the video of the Tower falling. And I cried. It was just so very unbelievable. All of this loss and devastation. People who were just living their lives, going to work, doing the same things they did everyday, just ... gone. So much. It was too much. It's always too much when something like this happens.

So I don't have a dramatic story to tell. It's a small story but it is the answer to the question. The question to which everyone has an answer. There are moments that stick with you forever. This day is one of those.