Remembering That September Morning

By Kathy Deters

I still remember that beautiful morning eleven years ago. I lived in Jefferson City but worked in Columbia as a public relations specialist for MU, so I had started my day with a long but peaceful journey down a 26-mile stretch of highway, just as I did every other day. I arrived on campus a little after seven, parked my car and headed toward my office in Jesse Hall. Since it was September, the students had returned from their summer vacation, so the campus hummed a bit with their youth and energy.

I rode the elevator to my third-floor office and then made a bee-line for the break room, where I quickly heated up breakfast in the microwave. Though I hadn’t told anyone yet, I had just found out I was pregnant, and the best way to ward off the morning sickness, I had found, was eating bacon-covered anything.

Our secretary flipped on the tiny television to the local news, as she did every morning; we liked to know the local headlines before we started getting calls from the media about whatever had happened overnight on campus. But that morning, it wasn’t a donation to the athletic department making headlines, or a new program in the business school; it was planes crashing into the World Trade Center.

Slowly my co-workers trickled in, and we huddled around that tiny TV. We watched over and over again, the footage of those planes crashing into those mighty towers in that iconic New York skyline.

We watched footage of crying bystanders in the street, trying desperately to reach their loved ones on the phone. We watched firefighters and policemen covered in soot and dust trying to reach victims, often losing their own lives in the process. And then, as the morning progressed, we watched reports of more planes crashing.

Phone calls came in from local media, and we did our best to respond. People wanted to know that the campus was safe; it might seem like a stretch, to assume that the next target would be a Midwestern college campus. But the fact was, by the end of that day, every church, school, airport, government agency, office building and shopping center felt like a target.

I remember driving home from work that night on that quiet highway, and the commute that had been a short 45 minutes that morning suddenly felt like four hours. I drove past the municipal airport and looked out the window nervously, worried about what might fall out of the sky next.

When I finally arrived home that night, my husband and I sat down and tried to talk about what had happened, and for the first time that day I was able to express what had been privately eating away at me: What kind of world would our baby be born into? We had enjoyed the luxury of a carefree youth… would she? Had this unspeakable act robbed her and every other baby yet to be born of their hope and innocence? Would they grow up in a world filled with hatred and fear?

Eleven years later I visited my daughter, now ten, at her school for lunch. As I sat with her in the cafeteria and watched her laughing and talking with her friend, who happens to be Muslim, I realized that whatever concerns I held on that fateful day eleven years ago were unfounded; though fear and hatred do exist, she and her friends have made a choice, as each of us does, not to wrap themselves in it.

We are inspired by the fallen heroes who gave their lives that day saving others, and those who continue to do so; it reminds us of the beauty, courage and sheer selflessness of the human spirit. We are grateful to live in a nation where we can vote as we believe, live as we want and worship as we choose. But that fateful day has not dictated who we are as a nation. The generation of children born after 9/11 live not in fear of what happened or that it could happen again, but with hope for a future that is without violence, war and acts of aggression and oppression. Because to know God’s grace is to believe that a world filled with peace is possible, and that, through patience, compassion and tolerance, each of us can help create that world.

Kathy Deters has a background in public affairs, and currently works as a freelance writer for St. Louis Sprout and About magazine. Transplants from the First Presbyterian Church in Jefferson City, Kathy and her husband Jeff are grateful to be members of St. Mark Presbyterian Church, which has provided lots of wonderful opportunities for their three children to enjoy. When she’s not writing and watching cartoons, Kathy enjoys watching Mizzou football and the St. Louis Blues. Go Tigers!