Contributed by: [name withheld]
Contributor's location on 9/11: Paris, France
Contributed on: August 20, 2007

It was mid-day in Paris, a blue sky like the one over NY above, when my mom called from Chicago to tell me that a plane had crashed into the WTC. She was talking of one plane, then maybe two. I really couldn't comprehend the possibility. I told her it was probably one small plane and deceptive camera angles, we got off the phone, I went back to work.

In the days that followed, there was unprecedented solidarity between the French and the Americans, an almost palpable sadness in the air and nights wondering what those moments had been like for those involved.

For a few years afterward, I would log onto websites that told the stories of the victims, who they were, how much they were loved. I needed to know them. Then, I started to spend time at 911truth.org, reading the moment-by-moment air traffic/Norad/military confusion and feeling my faith in our fail-safes dwindle.

Now, as our collective faith in our government has greatly diminished and the world is no longer by or on our side, the sadness of the event is almost overshadowed by the shamefulness of our politics and the war that has followed.

It's clear that the terrorists have not won. Their methods, their goals, their logic is as ridiculous as it is horrifying. But we have neither won nor survived well. We have been damaged. I guess that's not really surprising.



Cite as: Anonymous, Story #40947, The September 11 Digital Archive, 20 August 2007, <http://911digitalarchive.org/stories/details/40947>.
Archival Information: 245 words, 1366 characters
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