When Blue Skies Turned Grey

Children are always watching.

That’s the unfortunate truth that Ned Landry faced on the Tuesday afternoon that would forever be known as “9/11”.

It was hard enough for a man in his late twenties to comprehend the horrors of the world, watching his perception of life come crumbling down like a building in New York’s skyline. He, like everyone else that day, was glued to his television set from the moment the second plane made impact. He watched, like everyone else, trying to make sense of it all, not believing his own eyes.

Images of people throwing themselves from windows quickly became forever etched onto his psyche. It wasn’t bad enough to see it once, but the news stations replayed the footage over and over again, like a nightmare that one couldn’t wake up from. Repeating. As if it was happening all over again. Each time more terrifying than the last, as if it were a movie that needed multiple viewings to be truly understood.

New angles, both camera or ways of thinking, brought back the repetition of the events as they unfolded. All it took was an hour to shake the nation to its core.

Ned wasn’t from America, but Canada, living just outside of Toronto. He had been to Syracuse, New York often for social gatherings with friends that he met on internet message boards. The attacks hit home for him, in a way that he could never properly express. While he felt like he was a world away, he also felt that it was happening right next door.

He left the house that morning as one person, and came back as a completely changed man. No matter the global hardships or issues that he faced personally, he would spend the rest of his life longing for life the way it was pre-9/11. Nothing would be the same again.

His six year old son, Michael, had missed the bus to school that morning, by no fault of his own. Ned spent a little extra time eating breakfast, enjoying a casual discussion about Spider-Man with his son over two bowls of Count Chocula. His wife, who left for work at seven every day, would be understandably frustrated that he hadn’t paid more attention to the clock. Ned worked the afternoon shift, so could still take the boy in to school on his own, even if he was a little bit late.

When they finally left the house, Ned took an unusual moment to stop and appreciate the scene around him. The sun shone warmly onto the streets below. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. Birds chirped cheerily. The green of the grass somehow seemed greener, and the blue of the sky seemed bluer. Ned breathed the warm September air into his lungs. He smiled as he helped his son into his car seat.

Driving Michael to school was when he heard the news that the first plane hit, when it was still the only plane. Hearing that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center was shocking, but no one knew at that time the severity of the situation.

He changed the radio over to Howard Stern, a shock-jock morning host based out of New York City. The hosts were their usual selves, arguing about Howard’s advances on Pamela Anderson. If Howard didn’t seem concerned, then there was no reason for Ned to be. After all, he didn’t even live in the same country.

In the amount of time it took for Ned to run Michael into the school, he came out just in time to hear the radio announce the worst :

“Another plane has hit the World Trade Center.”

His head spun. He felt nauseous. New York City was under attack. It was painfully clear.

Howard was more concerned, which let Ned know that it was time to panic.

Ned couldn’t help but think that he had made the wrong decision by dropping his son off at school. The attacks were limited to New York at the moment, but what if the day progressed in such a way that led to attacks on all major cities in the world. He could see the C.N. Tower from where he was standing, and couldn’t shake the thought of a plane crashing into its circular pod.

Without knowing any more information, Ned instantly ran back into the school and requested his son be excused for the day. The secretaries were crowded around a radio, and didn’t hear Ned as he came back in. One of them nodded, saying that his concern wasn’t unfounded. She had a feeling that many of the students would be picked up sooner than later.

Ned stood in the hallway as his son left the classroom, his innocently perplexed face staring at his father.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Ned said. “I just think it’s best if we go home today, alright?”

“Can I play Nintendo64?”

“Daddy’s gotta watch the TV for a bit, but you can draw, or colour, or something.”

There was no objection. Michael jumped around. “Yes! I get to go home!”

As much as Ned wanted to listen to the news, he also wanted to save his son’s innocence for as long as he could. He knew that he would have to tell him what happened eventually, but the car ride was not the time. Ned had to figure out what the hell was happening.

Michael was acutely aware of his father’s shaky grip of the steering wheel. Things were different than they had been in the morning. His father was there physically, but mentally was elsewhere. Ned’s distracted mind allowed for the car to drive through a red light, something he had never done before. Michael had a limited knowledge of rules of the road, but knew that this was one of the most dangerous things one could do.

“Daddy!” the boy hollered. “You drove through the-“

Ned snapped. “-I KNOW.”

Michael’s lips quivered, clearly fighting back tears. His father never yelled at him like that. Never.

“Michael, I’m sorry,” Ned said. “I’m so sorry. Just stay upstairs until your mother gets home, okay?”

“Daddy, I’m scared.”

It was exactly what he didn’t want. “Don’t be, buddy. It’s okay. Everything will eventually be okay, alright?”

The car ride back to the house was silent. When they got home, Ned hurriedly grabbed a stack of paper and crayons, tossing them to his son. He kissed the boy atop his head, and rushed to the TV in the basement.

“Stay in the kitchen,” Ned said. “Please.”

It didn’t matter what channel he was watching when he turned the TV on, the news was everywhere. CBC, ABC, Fox, it didn’t matter. This was an emergency broadcast on every channel. For the first time, Ned was able to see the gravity of it all. Two beautiful pieces of architecture, symbols of America, set ablaze by a heinous act of terrorism. Smoke billowed from the top of one of the towers, and the middle of the other. Paper and other debris was raining onto the city below. Ned didn’t believe what he was seeing.

The damage was worse than he could have ever pictured in his imagination. When he heard that planes had hit the twin towers, Ned never assumed them to be commercial flights. He then realized that the planes undoubtedly had passengers on them. The gaping holes ripped into the steel buildings were a painful reminder of the now empty seats at dinner tables across the world, the unfillable void of loved ones unfairly stolen.

Ned watched in disbelief. Shock. It looked too fake to be real, and too real to be fake. Synapses in his brain fired all over as he processed the information as he was seeing it. He watched, mouth agape, little specks leaping from the buildings. At first he thought they were debris from the building, glass panes, papers. Anything but what they actually were.

People.

Whatever was happening inside the buildings was worse than jumping to their own death.

Ned trembled as he watched the degradation of the American dream, and the birth of the American nightmare. There was no information about who was behind the attacks, but Ned was certain that the ramifications of such an event would end poorly for everyone involved.

The phone rang. He answered it, but said nothing. His mind was too occupied.

It was the soft voice of his wife on the other end. “Ned?”

“I’m here,” he said.

“Did you hear what’s happening in New York?”

“I’m watching it right now.”

“How does it look? It doesn’t sound good.” Her voice rattled. “This is insane.”

“Come home.”

“I can’t, I have to work until three.”

“Come home now, Debbie.”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

They both stayed on the phone for a moment without saying a word. Finally, Ned said, “I love you.”

Debbie broke down. “I love you more.”

Neither wanted to hang up the phone. They both took comfort in hearing each other’s voices. Ned finally said, “Come home. Please.”

He hung up the phone, went to put it away, but stopped to look at the digital clock on the side table - 9:59 A.M.

He heard a noise that he hadn’t heard before thus far on the news, a horrifying low rumble.

Not another plane, he thought.

It wasn’t. But he soon wished that it had been.

Smoke enveloped the entire South Tower, quickly covering the majority of the building. The newscasters appeared in a state of shock as well. Ned hung on desperately for confirmation of what he was seeing, though he feared the worst.

As the cameras cut to different angles, he could no longer see the tower.

How could one of the twin towers be gone? It couldn’t just be gone. Not that easily.

Ned screamed a guttural “NO!” at the TV. He didn’t mean to holler, it was such an involuntary, very human response. It was from the heart, fuelled only by emotion.

From behind him, a squeaky little voice. “What happened, Daddy?”

Ned turned to face his son, who held onto a drawing of a blue & red person, clearly meant to be Spider-Man. Ned wasn’t aware that tears were streaming down his own face. He was moved with emotions, watching the horrifying unravelling of the world right before his eyes.

“How long have you been standing there?” Ned asked Michael.

“Since before Mommy called,” the young boy said. “I drew this for you because you look upset.” He extended the drawing to his father, who cried even harder. “Why are you crying, Daddy?”

Ned grabbed his son, held him tight, and said a prayer for all of the fathers that would never be granted the chance to hold their sons again. All of the sons who would never see their fathers again. He squeezed Michael as tight as he could, shielding his face from the TV, protecting the last of his innocence.

The day was full of emotion, horrific acts, and a collective loss of naivety. Parents do everything in their power to protect their children from the real world. Even if children didn’t see any of the images first hand, it was all that their parents could talk about for days, weeks, and months. There was a collective loss of innocence among those that were around that day.

No matter how hard adults try to stop it, children are always watching.