• vet43,
    I was at Keesler on 11-22-63 also! Walking across the lawn on Main Base(my barracks was in the Triangle). Personally,that event means more to me than the WTC catastrophe.
    Patrick Barnes

    September 11, 2011 at 8:01 a.m.

  • I was living in Houston. I had just been laid off and my Mom had just died. I was at home alone. I saw the whole thing unfold on tv in real time. When the first tower was hit, I thought it was horrible accident. After the second tower was hit, and the reports of the other plane crashes, I wondered if "today is the end of the world?". I couldn't comprehend what the people in, near the Twin Towers were going through. Or what their friends and families must be feeling. I had visited NY a couple of years earlier & treasure my picture of me & my friends on the top floor of one of the Twin Towers and the large, beautiful picture I bought of the NY skyline.

    September 10, 2011 at 3:11 p.m.

  • I had just gotten to work when I heard the first reports. As the morning passed and we found more details my shock and grief grew into a slow rage. Many co-workers were in total shock. I really do not think most understood how our world had changed. I signed out and walked to my car where I said a prayer and quietly sat and cried.

    November 22,1963 Keesler AFB, I said a prayer and found a quiet place and cried.

    September 10, 2011 at 1:55 p.m.

  • Chris, you pose an interesting question.

    Innocence? I'm not sure we understand that term anymore. With the world growing ever smaller, communications-wise and with new generations never knowing a life before 24-hour news channels, YouTube, cell phones and computers, I think our innocence has not so much been lost as it has been swallowed. Swallowed by media, constant streams of info, and too much knowledge.

    I do believe there is a such a thing as knowing too much, seeing too much. And I believe we have passed a point of no return in this past decade. The old reality has given way to a new world order. It is up to us to decide where to go from here.

    Thanks for such a thought-provoking discussion.

    September 10, 2011 at 11:05 a.m.

  • Chris it was a traumatic day. I guess many Americans were wondering what this event meant to each individual and their family members. Was this the beginning of the end?

    I was at one of the local hospitals where we were waiting for the mother of my best friend to come out of surgery. It was to be sort of a routine back surgery. The surgery was about at the halfway mark when the news of the first hit came, followed by the second crash. I guess everyone, including the doctors, were in shock. My friend's surgery ended with a complication which ultimately took her life in October.

    A few months ago I was discussing the event with another friend. She too had a family member in the same hospital undergoing surgery at the same time. She said her relative died on the operating table.

    Doctors, police, firemen and every other American are only human. Sometimes humans experience events which are so uncomprehendable that we just "shut down". I hope this sort of event is never experienced again. It definitely changed us all.

    September 9, 2011 at 9:25 a.m.

  • Thanks for sharing, Chris. It's very fulfilling to know that what one does matters so much to someone.

    I was living in Conroe, and awoke to my morning as usual. I almost always make my coffee, read my paper, and mill about the place before I ever turn on the boob tube. So I did the usual that morning. I must have turned on the TV around Noon or so that day, and by then, of course, it had all happened. I had no inkling. the first thing I saw on the TV was the twin towers on fire (must have been a replay) and I thought, huh, that looks like New York. They've got quite a fire going there. Then the collapse. I couldn't understand what was happening. Then they showed the Pentagon. That's the first time I cried. I have never been to New York. But I have been to Washington D.C. I HAVE been to the Pentagon, seen that amazing building in all its beauty. And that's when it hit home. It hit at the very heart of me on that moment. The rest of the day is sort of a haze to me.

    I remember going to work. You just go through the motions at that point. My mom called me to make sure I was alright. My aunt called me, and I'll never forget her words. She said, "Bad day, huh?". What she meant was, thank God we are okay and we love you. And she did say that, after the shock wore off. I remember looking out the window of the lab (the lab was on the second floor) and just - staring, wondering. Were we next? I remember hearing sniffles and the quietness of the lab. A lab is much like a newspaper room, I imagine, people yakking, phones ringing, instruments running....always, always noise. But not this evening. When a lab falls silent, except for the occasional weeping, you know something is wrong.

    I never want to work in a silent lab again.

    September 9, 2011 at 8:48 a.m.