Miles away, Garavaglia, now an advertising junior, had no way of contacting her father. Fear and uncertainty lingered in their home.

“Nobody knew if something else was going to happen,” she said. “(My mother) just tried to stay calm, and obviously she wasn’t.”

Across the country, parents rushed to take their children home early from school.

After her mother picked her up, tears streamed down theatre junior and Long Island, N.Y., native Michelle Serje’s cheeks.

As her mother panicked, Michelle panicked. Through her parents’ reactions, she gleaned some understanding of the scope of the events.

“I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew it was something really bad,” Serje said. “I was just so young; I was unable to understand.”

As a young girl, she struggled to accept the reality of the situation.

“I just didn’t understand why something like this would happen,” Serje said. “When you’re little, you don’t think anything like this could ever happen or (that) you would be affected by it.”

A decade later, the children who watched the twin towers fall, whether from their television sets or their backyards, still are trying to make sense of the chaos, sadness and confusion of Sept. 11.

A campus changed
Although some students might not remember what life was like before the attacks, it’s helped shape the face of America, said Mohammed Ayoob, coordinator of the MSU Muslim Studies Program and international relations professor.

Men and women were sent to war in Iraq and Afghanistan, hour-long lines at the airport became standard and Muslim Americans suddenly became the center of heated discussions and hate crimes.

Within minutes, the MSU community felt the blow of Sept. 11 and began planning how to deal with the long-term consequences.

A new Muslim Studies Program was created, and eventually security measures students now know as normal, such as Spartan Stadium’s bag policy, were set in place.

“The campus (students currently) see — and when they were in high school came to visit — was already in many ways shaped by Sept. 11,” MSU President Lou Anna K. Simon said.

Finding closure
As the towers crumbled, Garavaglia’s father trekked across the city to the Brooklyn Bridge on foot. He wouldn’t arrive home until the next night.

“The waiting was over,” Garavaglia said. “In a way, our family was lucky because we almost knew he was out of the way.”

Other families waited for weeks only to discover their loved ones had died.

Kinesiology junior Taylor Comiskey waited four days before her cousin’s tooth was found, and Comiskey knew for certain she was gone.

On Sept. 11, her cousin boarded American Airlines Flight 11. At 8:46 a.m., the plane struck the north tower, and smoke billowed from the building.

At the time, Comiskey didn’t even know what the World Trade Center was.

“When (my mother) told me, I was like, ‘No, that’s not possible,’” Comiskey said. “I was trying to figure out why, and I was trying to figure out if there was a way she was alive.”

Miles away in Shanksville, Pa., anthropology professor Norm Sauer was working 12 hours a day to match names with what was left of victims from United Airlines Flight 93.

All of the victims from the flight were identified except four, Sauer said. The unnamed bodies most likely were the terrorists that initially took the plane off course, he said.

For Sauer, working to help family members find closure was the easy part. Returning home was the struggle.

“Getting back to my routine, (it) seemed a bit mundane and certainly didn’t have the same level of intensity,” he said. “It was hard to internalize that what you were doing back here as a teacher, researcher and a public servant was very important.”

War and patriotism
American flags colored the country with red, white and blue after Sept. 11.

“Patriotism has always been inherent in American society,” Ayoob said. “What this did was to trigger a major display of that patriotism — that there was nothing wrong with being patriotic, particularly when the American homeland was attacked.”

Growing up with the war on terror, Army Command Sgt. Maj. Bryan McCoy knew he wanted to prevent another attack on America.

In 2009, the criminal justice senior began a year of service securing the Iraqi-Syrian border. It was watching innocent civilians being attacked 10 years ago that first inspired him to join the Army ROTC, he said.

“Sept. 11 put the idea of fighting for my country very much on the forefront,” McCoy said. “(There) definitely was a push for people to join (the military), and I couldn’t say that didn’t influence me.”
A decade later, blood still is being spilled in Iraq and Afghanistan because of Sept. 11 and the war on terror.

“American foreign policy has become … unprecedentedly militarized at least since the end of the second World War,” Ayoob said. “The American commitment in blood and money has increased tremendously overseas.”

For McCoy, the sacrifice he made serving overseas was worth it to know he was fighting for a cause bigger than himself.

“There’s always going to be those days when you’re doing the same thing over and over again, and nothing is happening — you’re going, ‘Why am I doing this?’” McCoy said. “(But) our leadership did a very good job of letting us know what our actions were doing to help the greater cause of stabilizing Iraq.”

Muslim perception
Around the beginning of September, communication junior Aseel Machi tries to keep quiet.

She’s been pushed, screamed at and harassed because of her religion, especially during early fall.

Machi, a former employee at The State News, wears a hijab, a headscarf worn by Muslim women to cover their hair.

This time of year, she knows it makes her a target.

“I’ve had my scarf pulled off at school by a group of people,” Machi said. “(Your scarf) is your modesty — it’s kind of a big deal.”

When she was younger, she stopped wearing her scarf to school for a time because “the pressure was too much,” Machi said.

As people associated her with terrorism, she began to doubt herself and her faith.

“It was hard as a 10-year-old to understand, is this what Islam is?” Machi said.

Now, Machi works to stop the hate stemming from misconceptions about Muslims supporting terrorism. Through education, she hopes the stereotypes will end.

Although many used Sept. 11 as an excuse to target Muslim Americans, not everyone reacted that way, Ayoob said.

“There is a section of Islamophobic, xenophobic elements that have made the attack of Muslims at home and abroad into an industry,” Ayoob said. “But there is potentially a much larger segment of the population that has stayed true to the American ideal of multiculturalism (and) integration.”

At MSU, the community joined together after Sept. 11 through interfaith services and educational programs, said Paulette Granberry Russell, director of the Office for Inclusion and Intercultural Initiatives.

Curriculum, such as the creation of the Muslim Studies Program, was put in place to answer the questions storming students’ minds.

“The goal was to bring the community together, not to have us separated by ideologies, religious beliefs or political beliefs,” Granberry Russell said. “We were a community that was there to support (one other).”

For MSU, Sept. 11 was a chance to grow together, not apart, she said.

“The Muslim faith took a very responsible position and role … in expanding student understanding around Islam so they could help debunk the myths and stereotypes people are prone to,” she said. “Out of all of that sadness, the community grew.”

Looking forward
A year after Sept. 11, Garavaglia still could see the light of thousands of candles shining on Ground Zero from her yard.

The gap in the New York City skyline is a constant reminder of the lives lost and the change still impacting America.

“My thoughts have changed over the years, my eyes are more open,” Garavaglia said. “It took me until … now to remember all the little things and how weird it is to see how far we’ve come.”

Despite the confusion, anger and pain, Sept. 11 has changed America in a more lasting way, she said.

“I know how much it brings our community together, at least if it’s just for a day,” Garavaglia said.

“People just seem to forget about everything else that’s going on, and they can just focus on one thing. (It’s) not that everybody needs sympathy, but it’s just like a big blanket of togetherness.”

From the archives: State News coverage from September, October 2001

STUNNED

Experts describe enormity of event

Muslim community attempts to cope

‘U’ professor comes home, remembers Ground Zero