My wife and I found out on Sept. 11, 2001, that we were bringing a child into the world
On the crisp, clear, autumnal morning of Sept. 11, 2001, my wife and I were driving home from a momentous doctor’s appointment.
Earlier that year, we had moved from San Francisco to Rochester, New York, with the goal of settling down, buying a house and starting a family.
That morning, we were coming home from an ultrasound appointment that confirmed my wife was pregnant with our first child. We were abuzz on the drive home, excited and nervous.
That’s when we heard the news on the car radio that two planes had crashed into the World Trade Center. We rushed up to our third-floor apartment and turned on the television to see the horrifying videos. At the moment that Jim Miklaszewski of NBC News was reporting from the Pentagon that there was some sort of explosion there, my phone rang. It was my newsroom at the Democrat and Chronicle newspaper, where I was an assistant metro editor. Everyone was being called into the office immediately.
Our main focus in those early days was finding family and friends of people who were killed in the attacks and in the planes. Because of Rochester’s relative proximity to New York City, we found a lot of people with Rochester ties.
It also set off a series of stories about safety. We looked at the safety of a nearby nuclear power plant, government buildings and the airport and then we were forced to look at ourselves, as we received a mailed envelope with a white powdery substance suspected to be anthrax. (It turned out not to be anthrax, but from there on, we had extraordinary protocols for receiving and opening mail.)
If I’m being brutally honest, my most lasting impression of that day is one of anger. I still remember how shaking mad I was as I watched the footage of the towers collapsing. I called the terrorists names that I can’t repeat here. I was so mad that they had gotten away with it. That it was such an act of cowardice. Not of war, of cowardice. They had killed innocent civilians, not combatants on the battlefield. I, like nearly everyone I knew, was in support of a counterattack and revenge.
I also remember the trepidation of bringing a child into the world, which at the time seemed chaotic and coming apart at the seams.
That little kidney bean that showed up on the ultrasound on Sept. 11, 2001, is now a midshipman at the U.S. Naval Academy, with an up-close perspective on the deaths of 13 Navy and Marine brothers in arms who were killed in a suicide bombing as the U.S. withdrew from the country we attacked before he was even born.
As the 20th anniversary of 9/11 draws near, we’d like to hear your stories of where you were on that morning, what your lasting impressions were of that day and what your thoughts are now 20 years later.
You can fill out the survey here.
Or you can send me an email at smcintosh@idahostatesman.com.
BEHIND THE STORY
MOREWhat is this column all about?
This column shares the personal opinions of Idaho Statesman opinion editor Scott McIntosh on current issues in the Treasure Valley, in Idaho and nationally. It represents one person’s opinion and is intended to spur a conversation and solicit others’ opinions. It is intended to be part of an ongoing civil discussion with the ultimate goal of providing solutions to community problems and making this a better place to live, work and play.
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