I remember stopping at my locker before I headed to first period, filling my backpack with books for my first few classes. With only four minutes to get to class so you had to speek walk and hope for no traffic. I was preparing for a busy day.
I chatted with a few locker neighbors about the upcoming football game and headed toward Science. I could tell something was wrong because the mood was different in the room, sort of tense. My teacher (who.. whom.. I hated) looked upset. Then she announced what happened.
"Hey everybody, something bad has happened in New York City. A plane has crashed into the World Trade Center and it's pretty bad."
That's all. We had no idea if it was an accident or terrorists (even though we didn't know what terrorists were at the time) or anything. We were silent as we watched the second plane crash into the other tower. People just gasped when the collapsed. Mostly we were just quiet.
I really had no idea why this had happened or what it meant, all I knew was the people were dying and it as terrible. A girl, who I will rename Sandy, left the room in tears. Sure, it was sad and tragic but I couldn't figure out why she was running out of class. We all thought it was because Sandy was a drama queen, which was true.
Turns out Sandy had relatives in New York City. Her thirteen year-old brain automatically put those relatives at Ground Zero and thought the worst, but in reality they were no where near it. She left early from school that day. She was one of the first people I knew who were directly affected.
In every class, we just watched TV. No real work was done, everyone just wanted to know what has happening. But I still didn't understand it and no one offered information.
My mom was late to pick me up from school, it turns out she couldn't tear herself away from the TV and lost track of time. When we got home, we all watched TV together. I asked so many questions that my parents couldn't answer. No one could answer them because no one knew anything yet.
Ten years later, people still don't know the answers. Not really. The big question: why. Why did we have to lose almost 3,000 people in a horrible tragedy?
I guess it came full circle because I watched TV all day, from the dedications in the morning to the specials as night. It was shocking, seeing the same images, but with older eyes. Watching the second plane hit literally took my breath away. It was different this time, I actually understood the impact behind the attacts.
2,799 people were murdered. By terrorists. And for what? To prove a point? That America is weak and can be brought down? Excuse me, Mr. Terrorist, but you can not bring America down. You're attack did the complete opposite: it brought us together. 9/11 created a tighter bond among Americans.
One of the things that really bugs me is when people say, "Oh, but let's forgive. It's the right thing to do." I'm sorry, but there will be no forgiveness. Ever. They killed almost 3,000 innocent people. Husbands, wives, siblings, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, people that didn't deserve to die. Most of their bodies were never found. And you expect me to forgive them and accept them? In the words of Mercedes Jones, "Ah hell to the no!"
This rant may be ten years late, but that's fine. Better late then never.
We saw two things for sure on 9/11: the best and worst of people. To see others risk their own lives to save strangers was truly extraordinarly, the best example of a human being. The way those people on Flight 93 risked their own lives to stop the terrorists was amazing. And the almost 400 firefighters that died saving people from the rumble, they are all true hereos.
I've often wondered how we're going to explain something is profound, this important, this infamous even to our children, to our grandchildren. To those that have no idea what it was about, what happened. I guess they probably thought the same thing about Pearl Harbor. President Obama shared that same fear in his OP?ED column in USA Today:
Like every American, I'll never forget how I heard the terrible news, on the car radio on my way to work in Chicago. Yet like a lot of younger Americans, our daughters have no memory of that day. Malia was just 3; Sasha was an infant. As they've grown, Michelle and I faced the same challenge as other parents in deciding how to talk with our children about 9/11.
One of the things we've told them is that the worst terrorist attack in American history also brought out the best in our country. Firefighters, police and first responders rushed into danger to save others. Americans came together in candlelight vigils, in our houses of worship and on the steps of the U.S. Capitol. Volunteers lined up to give blood and drove across the country to lend a hand. Schoolchildren donated their savings. Communities, faith groups and businesses collected food and clothing. We were united, as Americans.9/11 will never be just another day in September.
#neverforget
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