9/11 marked my oldest son’s birthday. He was in Ecuador at the time with the Peace Corps. After the attack on the Twin Towers, I never worried about him again, because if something like this could happen “here,” it made me rethink the safety of my kids.
Another son was in D.C., but I found out later he left the day before; the youngest son was in Nebraska but was thinking about enlisting.
I was in England, on my way to Scotland with my husband, and found out about the events on BBC radio as we left Hadrian’s Wall. We stopped in York that night and watched the BBC, realizing that we were entering a terroristic war. After finding out where all the boys were and that they were safe, we went on to Scotland. There we found the guards at Edinburgh Castle armed with machine guns; after asking, we found out this was because of the attack.
I remember getting teary-eyed that week as the Buckingham Palace Guard played our national anthem on the BBC. We made it back to the States on the first flight out of Gatwick Airport as scheduled, but people were understandably nervous.
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