Many Princetonians will never forget Sept. 11. Because of the University's proximity to New York, the campus was greatly affected. In the weeks after the attacks, Princeton witnessed a surge in patriotism, a reawakened sense unity and a reinvigorated interest in international affairs. Everyone has their story. What follows are six stories from six people six months after Sept. 11.
Being Muslim and American after 9/11
Raquiba Huq '03 is proud to be both Muslim and American.
She grew up 10 minutes from Princeton in Plainsboro, and her mosque, the Islamic Society of Central New Jersey, is just five minutes north of Washington Road on Route 1.
But on the morning of Sept. 11, Huq was across an ocean from the country she loves, studying with the Wilson School program in Oxford.
"I remember feeling total shock, she said. "We came in during the afternoon from getting groceries, turned on CNN and saw the first tower collapsing. It was like watching a terrible movie from somewhere far away."
Huq remembers the comfort the 12 University students gave each other, praying and crying together and talking quietly in front of the television. But she also remembers the feelings of total helplessness.
They could not even give blood.
"Everyone around us was sympathetic, but we still really wanted to be at home," she said. "And like many Muslim Americans, I kind of felt a double hit. I was so heartbroken for our country and the thousands who lost their lives, and then at the same time I was very worried that there might be a backlash against my home and my mosque."
Huq's family and mosque have been safe. Now she is bent on helping America's reputation in the Arab world.
"I love our country so much. Everyone should be grateful for the freedom and opportunities that we have here," she said. "At the same time, we all have the ability to speak up and actually change things we don't like."
As a Wilson School major, Huq is looking forward to a career in U.S.-Arab relations. There are a few things about American foreign policy she would like to see changed, such as the sanctions on Iraq.
But she also says the Arab states need to give future generations an education, free from propaganda.
Today, Huq will continue to turn to her faith and country for support.
"I'll think mostly about the people who lost their lives in the Trade Towers and the Pentagon," she said. "But I think it's also important to remember to be grateful for the newfound American unity and patriotism. I certainly couldn't live the life I lead now anywhere else in the world."
The priest who consoled a community
"The tragedy of losing someone you love is one thing, but so unexpectedly and in such a way, your heart breaks for people," said Monsignor Walter Nolan of St. Paul's Roman Catholic Church on Nassau Street.
Nolan's congregation lost four of its members to the terrorist attacks on Sept. 11 in addition to five others who were closely tied to the parish community. All the victims, who worked at the World Trade Center, were in their early to mid 30s and left behind spouses and children, Nolan said.
On the morning of Sept. 11, Nolan and the parish initially received word that those individuals who worked in the World Trade Center had escaped the building safely. But as the evening wore on, Nolan received names of parishioners missing and lost.
That night during a special mass, the church pews were filled with people who prayed for loved ones.
In the past six months since the attacks, Nolan has counseled the families of those lost and has spiritually guided his congregation.
"They're surviving, but when you lose someone young, the pain is severe," Nolan said. "Inside of all of us, we've changed. We've realized that the world has changed. No longer do we see ourselves living in a safe place, and it makes the realization of losing a loved one greater."
The tragedy shook not only the prevailing sense of security of parish members, but also their faith in God. In the weeks and months after the attacks, parishioners approached Nolan for advice on how spirituality could alleviate the pain and shock.
He recognized that the current situation called for a re-evaluation of biblical passages to apply to a pain many of his parishioners had never experienced.
"The Old Testament and the New Testament say that we should love God with all our hearts and minds," Nolan said. "I say we should love each other with all our hearts and all our minds and strength."
For one student, it is still the same city
Ann Ostrager '05 was brushing her teeth when she heard that two airplanes had crashed into the Twin Towers. Born and raised in New York City, Ostrager first thought of her father, who works at a law office four blocks from the World Trade Center. She then wondered if her academic advising meeting would be cancelled.
Like many students, Ostrager had a full schedule of meetings and errands for one of the last days before classes started.
Ostrager's resolve to continue her daily schedule typifies the University's response to the Sept. 11 and the mentality of an average New Yorker — a mentality founded in moving on.
Although she spent the morning watching the news and struggling to reach her parents, Ostrager attended the meeting that afternoon. In retrospect, Ostrager said there could have been a longer grieving period, even while cloistered within University walls.
"The University response was dispassionate and I felt so removed," she said. "Everyone in the city was rallying behind what just happened, and I looked around and thought, 'Does anybody here know that this happened? Does anybody care?' "
Ostrager returned home for the first time just two weeks after the attacks. When she saw smoke rising from the site, she held her breath in shock.
To this day, Ostrager refuses to visit Ground Zero. The site, she says, has become a tourist attraction rather than a place of mourning.
Though she feels the nation will eventually suffer a "collective memory failure," the unfamiliar skyline outside her apartment window on the East Side serves as a constant reminder.
While the attacks have left a gap in the landscape of New York City, residents have returned to their bustling lifestyle, attending meetings, running errands and every once in a while pausing to reflect.
"But it's still the same city it was," Ostrager said.
'City rat' moves office to suburbia
Before Sept. 11, Ed Schumacher worked no more than 100 yards from the World Trade Center.
Every day he looked out of his office window into the blue reflective glass of the Twin Towers.
But after Sept. 11, his office is now on the edge of Ground Zero.
Schumacher is a managing editor for the Wall Street Journal Americas Edition, and for the past six months he has been working in a suburban office park near a TGI Friday's on Route 1.
Instead of commuting from the Upper West Side to Lower Manhattan every morning, Schumacher rides N.J. Transit from Penn Station to Princeton Junction.
For Schumacher's team at the Journal, however, the change in location means more than a longer commute.
"Following the September 11th attacks, we were very concerned about the retention of our editors," Schumacher said. "We recruit all of our staff straight from Latin America. People from overseas really want to experience life in the city, and I was worried that a lot of them might just leave us."
Since Sept. 11, two staff members have left their jobs. But most of his editors seem determined to stay.
Schumacher can sympathize with his staff. After more than eight years of working in Lower Manhattan, it's difficult for the self-professed "city rat" to leave it every morning. And he will always remember the morning of Sept. 11.
Schumacher remembers turning on the television just as the second jet buried itself into the South Tower.
"In an instant I realized that something big was up, and all I could think about was getting my people out of our downtown office."
Fortunately, everyone on his staff was safe.
Today, he will think about Daniel Pearl, the Wall Street Journal reporter who was murdered in Pakistan and remember the 3,000 people who worked less than a block from him — fellow New Yorkers who came to work early and ended up at the bottom of the rubble.
"Sure I wish we were still in Manhattan," he said. "But every time I start to complain, I realize that it's just one small inconvenience in the midst of a terrible tragedy for our country."
The day that changed history
Two days after the Sept. 11 attacks, Kevin Kruse began his class HIS 280: Approaches to American History the same way he always had — with an explanation of the Spanish-American War. But this lecture took on new meaning.
Much like the USS Maine, a ship that represented American imperialism, the World Trade Center was a symbol of economic and democratic strength.
As a historian, Kruse said he is compelled to evaluate Sept. 11 in light of similar tragedies in American history; he must look to the past to find meaning in the present.
Kruse's philosophy has not changed, but throughout American history he sees recurring themes.
After World War I, President Harding advocated a return to normalcy. Similarly, Americans have sought in vain to "get back to what was before," Kruse said.
"Things are fundamentally different," he said. "You may get back to a type of normality, but you won't get back to what was before."
After the attacks, the professors of the history department held informal discussions to try to deal with the event in a serious, yet respectful way and make parallels with the past, Kruse said.
"We historians, or Americans, like to draw comparisons and to put things in context using as much information as possible," he said.
By comparing what the nation has endured since Sept. 11 to events like the Spanish-American War, Pearl Harbor, the Civil War and Vietnam, Kruse finds political, social and economic trends of the past are returning.
"On the home front issues, I haven't changed my philosophy. It just suddenly seems relevant again," he said. "All of the things that were on the syllabus for HIS 383: The United States Since 1920 were there last year. People just took them as nice exercises. Japanese-American internment, loyalty during wartime, getting back to normalcy in the 1920s."
After Sept. 11, though, the events he teaches have become more significant.
Fighting from the blackboard
Most Princetonians do not know Rick Miller. But if a disaster ever strikes the University, Miller will come to the rescue.
For the past six years, Miller has been the captain of Mercer Engine #3, one of the Princeton Volunteer Fire Department's three major companies.
Miller also teaches eighth grade physics, and on Sept. 11, that was his job until the bell rang at 3 p.m. Then he went straight to the firehouse.
"When we heard the news in the morning, I turned on the TV for my students briefly in class," he said. "The whole thing was really hard to believe. But I turned it off very quickly. I had children in the class whose parents who worked in New York."
When he arrived at the firehouse, there was already a large gathering of volunteer firefighters and emergency medical personnel. None of them knew whether they would be called to action, but they were ready.
In the end, only a few from Princeton were called. Miller volunteered a couple days later to help the Rocky Hill Fire Department shuttle supplies to victims at the waterfront.
"Watching the sun rise over Manhattan was a strange feeling," Miller said. "Billowing smoke rose where the towers should have been."
His unit was never called to Ground Zero, but they did whatever they could.
Miller missed school that Friday, and his students had plenty of questions when he returned.
"Over the course of the past six months we've had unbelievable discussions about international events," he said. "We've talked about security and civil liberties in a democratic society. The eighth graders have had some really good things to say."
But life has also moved on. Today, students will take standardized tests all day long.
"It's difficult to remember and experience the emotions of 9/11 all over again," Miller said, "but I'm glad that people are making a big deal [about it]. Sometimes it's easy to get caught up in daily life and forget how significant and painful the whole tragedy really was."
Since Sept. 11, more people are volunteering for Miller's department.
"This tragedy has really made people want to help," he said, "and we can always use it." (The stories of Nolan, Ostrager and Kruse are by Sam J. Cooper. The stories of Huq, Schumacher and Miller are by Nathaniel Hoopes.)
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