9/11, Where I Was.

Ok, see how there was a major shift in energy there after my explanation of Writing for Results? That's because I found a bunch of 9/11 photos on TIME and looked at them. Many of them were from President Obama and the first lady visiting the memorial in NYC today, but then other photo galleries were photos from the day of the tragedy.  

I remember exactly where I was. Doesn't everyone? 

We recalled our feelings about 9/11 at my youth group the week when Osama Bin Laden had been killed (May 1 or 2, depending on who's time you are using). I was shocked to hear that many people didn't remember, didn't think it was a big deal when it happened, didn't understand it, didn't care, etc.

Wow. Yes, I was in 3rd grade. I remember and I knew it was a big deal. I can't remember a time when I was unconcerned about world events, although I am sure that time exists. In 1999, I watched news footage of the Colombine High School shooting and I understood that. I was 6. So while I am sure that distance and unconcern for world events happened in my world at some point, I don't recall. 

I was sick that day. It was picture day at Meadowview School and I was concerned about having to do retakes because I had never done them before. I must have confirmed with my parents the night before that I was, in fact, staying home because I know I did not go into their room that morning to ask if I could stay home. I am pretty sure I had strep throat. 

I got up, walked down the hallway into the living room, and turned on the TV. It was on a news channel from the night before, and I saw a building smoking. Burning. I didn't look carefully enough. I didn't read the text on the bottom of the screen. I assumed it was a news story about a factory. 

This must have been past 8:46 when the first plane hit tower 1 or after 9:03 when the second plane crashed into the tower. 

I changed the channel. I watched cartoons, I think. 

I don't know how long it was until my dad came running down the hall. I could hear voices from my parents room so I assumed they were talking about me being sick or allowing their radio to continue to play as they got out of bed.

My dad told me to "Change it to a news channel!" and I was annoyed. I changed it as fast as I could because I could tell he wasn't kidding.

That's all I remember of the morning. 

I know in the week to come, I watched a lot of footage, heard a lot of news clips, 911 calls, devastating phone calls from loved ones on the planes to their families on the ground, and asked my mom more than once if it was possible any one in the rubble was still alive.

I created this scenario in which, in the impact, someone was thrown against a vending machine and that's how they were staying alive, waiting for someone to find them. After about a week, my mom told me that it was pretty unlikely they would find any one else alive in the wreckage of the towers. 

I bought a book at my school's book fair about people who survived it that was a photograph of them and their story. I still have that book somewhere, I'm sure of it. The firefighters in the photographs, which were all taken in front of a white back drop in a studio, wore their uniforms that were covered with the dust of it all. They reported finding a lot of golf balls in the rubble. I don't know why that stuck with me.

I also remember one man in the book who was photographed with his white lab. He is blind and the dog was his guide dog. He was led by his dog down the stairs and to safety. I can't imagine that dog doing its job so valiantly and sticking to its training when it is scared. It had a job to do, to protect his master. The man said something along the lines of "Everyone else saw it happen, but I heard it. The pipes bursting, the walls buckling..." 

As much as I have pointed out this dog's courage, it feels absurd to not point out the bravery of the men and women of the NYC police and fire departments, as well as EMTs, hospital staffs, news reporters who stomached the scenes as helpless standers by like the rest of us, and all the people who pitched in the effort to find survivors, pull bodies out so bring closure to families, clean up, hand out masks, carry injured to find help, and everybody else. 

Considering the size of the attack not only literally but the impact it had on the hearts of Americans, specifically New Yorkers, I am proud to be a part of this nation. While it is easy to bludgeon politicians and say that they could have handled it better or differently, to say that someone might have foreseen this and prevented it, and to judge those conspiracy theorist, I urge you to spend today, or what's left of today, simply to honor the victims and those who survived them. I can think of a million ways to personify them. Here are just a few off the top of my head:

Children whose parents were just trying to earn enough money at their desk job for them to go to college one day, mothers whose sons sat scared in the seat of the airplane as they frantically thought of what they might be able to do to help others onboard, for the husbands of the flight attendants who were stabbed mercilessly, for the wives of the Pentagon personnel who thought that a desk job would be safe for their husbands and had to cope with the reality that their special plans for dinner that Tuesday night would not happen, and for anyone else. 

Do what you will to commemorate them; those who died, those who are left here without them, those who were badly injured, and to everyone who fought, who cried, who prayed, to those who were directly and indirectly effected by it. Pray for the wellbeing of this country, for our leaders and for the hearts of its citizens as we remember the decade between today and the day that we will NEVER forget.