Remember: Looking Back On Se-11th

I hear a lot of people saying that 911 didn’t affect them. I just don’t understand this. Maybe they’ve forgotten how it felt or maybe their capacity for empathy and compassion is ridiculously low. It affected me profoundly and I could never deny the impact it’s had on my life. Thinking back, I can still feel the pain. I was nine years old then, and my perception of the world was only what my teachers and grandparents and my mother had made it. I don’t remember much about school that day, only that it was strange. I had the feeling you get when everyone around you knows something that you don’t. It kept me on edge throughout the day. After school, I went to Primrose (daycare) as I always did. Several of my friends had been picked up early and I was confused. I knew something was going on but not what. I heard one of my teachers, a tall black woman with a pinched face, telling another teacher, quite matteroffactly, that Disneyworld had been closed. “Why?” I asked, raising my voice so the other kids could hear. She literally flinched, and began stammering excuses and chastising me for eavesdropping. Finally, she calmed down enough to speak coherently. “Ask your mom,” she hissed. My mom arrived not long after that, much earlier than she usually did. On the ride home I asked her what was going on, but she was silent. Her eyes were red and I could tell she had been crying. We drove by an American flag raised to half mast and a terrible apprehension gripped my heart. I no longer wanted to know what it was that had given my world such a depressing semblance. We got to our apartment building and walked up the stairs to our apartment door. While she was rummaging through her purse for the keys, I asked again what had happened and again she didn’t reply. But her bottom lip trembled slightly and I thought I saw a tear running down her cheek. We stepped inside and she turned on the T.V. “Here,” she said, retreating to her bedroom. A reporter was talking about some sort of attack on the United States, then a recording of a body falling from a burning building was played. I wasn’t prepared for that. I just stood there and watched news footage till I couldn’t stand it anymore. I dropped to my knees and burst into tears. I had read about the Holocaust and Pearl Harbor and wars all over the world throughout history, but I’d never felt death before. This was something huge, something larger than anything I could ever imagine. I prayed then, down on my knees with tears streaming down my face. I prayed for the victims and their families, for my family and for the U.S. I think it was the first time I had ever prayed sincerely for someone other than myself. It was the kind of prayer that that never really ends, nor is it abandoned. It just drags on and on and on, for the rest of time. It was the same prayer I would pray numerous times afterwards, the same prayer with a different face. It felt like the kind of prayer that would be heard, as well. To me, these are the kinds of prayers that truly matter, not the answered ones. As I grew older, I began to understand the events of that day much better. With the understanding came a fierce pride for my country. Not a single person died during the cleanup process, and it was carried out swiftly and efficiently. Race, religion and political beliefs, for a time, ceased to matter. Heroes and legends were born. In some ways, Sep11th was our finest hour. But the hour has passed. Complacency has returned, and the American people have forgotten. They have not forgotten the day or the events, but they have, in my opinion, forgotten the emotions and the tragic sense of loss that threatened to smother us all. They have forgotten the unity that was our saving grace during that time, and the courage and dignity with which we reacted. You don’t have to know the victims or their families to have been affected. No. It was not an isolated attack on one person or belief, it was an attack on all of us and everything good and right in the world. Do not forget, do not go gently into that good night, remember the unity that was, rage, rage against the dying of the light. When you think back on the events of Sep11th, forget about politics and conspiracy theories and prejudices. Remember the fallen and celebrate the emotions that you had to have felt at the time. “The world is a fine place and worth fighting for.” Even more so, it is worth remembering. So remember it as it was previous and since that day, and cry and laugh and love, for you are alive and free.