March 2024
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Not Forgetting

I would imagine that everyone over the age of 15 or so has their own 9/11 story. I’m no exception.

(I would also imagine that pretty much everyone who has a blog is going to write out their 9/11 story today. In this, I am also no exception.)

I was a college student at the time, so I wound up sleeping through a good chunk of the initial activity. By the time that one of my friends woke me up to tell me about the world going insane, both towers had already been struck. I watched in disbelief and horror as the towers crumbled.

The thing that sticks with me to this day, and it’s so small and silly, really, is that before my friend knocked on my door, I was lying in bed thinking that maybe I should get up and turn on the TV to watch the news. Not only was it rare for me to get up before noon on Tuesdays that semester, but it’s the only time in my life that I’ve ever woken up and thought that I might like to watch the news. The rational part of me thinks that my subconscious brain probably heard people talking in the hallway. The romantic in me likes to think that we were all on the same wavelength that day.

***

It was a glorious fall day, the kind of day that makes you glad to live in New England. There was just enough of a chill in the air to make you appreciate the sunshine. I tried over and over again to call my sister Melissa in NYC but the cellphone circuits were all in use. When I finally got through to her, I sat on a bench on the quad and we talked about everything and nothing. It didn’t much matter to me what we said, I was just happy to hear her voice. My Mom had left me a voice mail while I was still sleeping, telling me that she was fine, so there was never any concern for her safety. But I didn’t relax until I heard from her directly.

***

I remember visiting my sister a few weeks later. We walked around NYC and it was almost like nothing had happened. And then you would turn a corner and you’d see an impromptu memorial or a community bulletin board. Hundreds of posters and flyers, desperate hope that someone special could be found. “Have you seen this woman?” “Looking for my Dad.” Sometimes, we get so caught up in the big picture, we forget about the people who are actually living out the news story. 9/11 touched me the way that it touched all of us, but I never had to go searching for a loved one, knowing deep inside that I would probably never find them.

The greatest losses of 9/11 were felt by ordinary people like you and me. They got up that morning thinking that their lives would continue to go on as usual. And they went to bed that night knowing that everything had changed. The only difference is, they went to bed alone. While I mourn the loss of life and of our collective innocence, I also recognize that for me, at a fundamental level, things haven’t changed all that much. For the thousands of people who lost loved ones on 9/11, this day has extra meaning and sorrow.

***

I love stories about 9/11 heroics. Especially stories about ordinary people rising to the occasion. Like the office workers who carried a handicapped woman down 68 flights of stairs. They could have left her in the stairwell, but they did the right thing and saved her life, at great risk to their own safety. All three of them made it out of the building, but how many other people died in the tower collapse because they refused to leave their coworkers behind? I’d like to think that I would do the right thing in a similar situation, but it’s easy to be brave from the comfort and safety of my couch. When surrounded by smoke and alarm bells, would I simply flee in terror?

***

There’s something about a tragedy that brings out the best in us puny humans. It’s a shame that it takes something like a house-fire, a family illness or one of the worst terrorist attacks in history to get us to think about our neighbors. But I really was proud to be American that day.

(The ensuing weeks were something of a different story).

That same impulse that drives us to bake casseroles for sick friends and wrap blankets around people whose houses have burned down spurred so many of us to reach out to each other that day. Blood drives were organized. Donations poured into the victims’ fund. But then the shock faded and the rhetoric changed.

I was proud to be an American on 9/11, but a few weeks later I was embarrassed by the jingoism, the lashing out in fear, the rush to war, the attacks on ordinary Americans whose only crime was that they looked a little bit too muslim. Ten years later and I think that many of us would agree that the war in Afganistan was a mistake, the pretext for war in Iraq a farce. The security restrictions put in place seem both draconian and ineffective.

I think that we’ve all mellowed out with time. The run-up to this anniversary has been one big news blitz, but the tone at least seems appropriately somber and reflective. We’ve backed away from the worst of the chest pounding.

I never stopped being proud of being an American, but there was a little embarrassment mixed in there for awhile. I think that it’s possible to love your country and still have some serious criticisms about it. America was built on a foundation of liberty and freedom (at least for property holding white guys, but that’s neither here nor there). So many of the things that make this country great got pushed aside for a while. But I think that we’re back to a good place. These days, I think that I could travel abroad and not be tempted to pretend to be Canadian.

***

Today, I am taking a moment to reflect on the events of ten years ago. To remember the spirit of community that emerged that day. To remind myself about the tenuousness of life. To appreciate my friend and loved ones. To never stop working to make my country do the right thing.

Never forget… to tell the people you love just how much you love them.
Never forget… that life is precious.
Never forget… that we all have the capacity to be heroes.
Never forget… that the world can change in an instant.
Never forget.

4 comments to Not Forgetting

  • Lovely post, Hope. I watched the memorial service this morning and have viewed some of the documentaries.

    And cried during everything.

    I’m not blogging about 9/11 today. I don’t feel like I have anything insightful or phenomenal to say. Instead of putting my thoughts on the screen, I’m holding them in my heart along with my prayers that all who grieve today find comfort.

  • B.

    Well written and moving post. It’s such a somber day to reflect on, but the fresh memories are needed.

  • Pretty much every article that I read about 9/11 made me teary.

    And I think you always have something insightful to say. 😉

  • Thank you. It was tough to write, but oddly cathartic.

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