[This post was written yesterday, on September 11th.]
I was eating Raisin Bran.
That's what I remember most about 9/11.
I was eating Raisin Bran in the lounge area of Lambton 2D, my dorm section at the University of Guelph.
My RA, a varsity hockey player who tried to thank me for editing his essays by hooking me up with his buddies (I declined his offer), ran into the lounge to make an announcement.
Only two of us were in there.
"A plane just hit the World Trade Center."
I didn't know what that meant.
And then...I did. After I finished eating my Raisin Bran.
I spent the day watching TV in a common area stuffed with silent students.
I was scared.
Some of my classes were cancelled. Many of my profs were strongly connected to the New York theatre scene. They needed to make sure their friends were okay.
My World Politics prof raised our textbook above his head and said, "This book is now out of date. Everything is different now."
And it was.
Sort of.
I remember.
I don't want to forget.
But I'm not sure what to do with remembering.
Where were you?
If you have some time today, I highly recommend reading Tom Junod's The Falling Man. Chills.