Remember?
It was a typical Tuesday morning in September, and, as usual, I was running late. I had just started my junior year in college, and Tuesday and thursday mornings I was doing work study for the Admissions office, so it wasn’t too big of a deal.
My mom and I rode together to the college (she works there), so at around 10 after 8 I walked back to her room to see if she was ready, in time to hear the DJ on the radio station she was listening to announce that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers in New York City. We said something to the effect of, “Oh, wow, that’s not good.” to each other, and hoped it was just some freak accident. She turned off her radio, and the lights, we grabbed our things, and headed out to the car to head to the school.
Just before we made it to the school, that same DJ would be informing us that a second plane had hit the other World Trade Tower.
We went inside, to our respective offices, as the fear and uncertainty set in.
Our offices were in the basement of the building, and we had no access to television, so we turned on the radio. Soon, every radio station on the AM and FM dials were broadcasting the audio of one of the major networks who were covering the events as they happened.
I listened to the sound of fear and astonishment in the voices of the anchors, as they described the planes hitting the World Trade Center, and the chaos in Manhattan. I continued to listen as they talked about how a plane had hit the Pentagon in Washington, DC, and how all flights were being grounded, and planes were still unaccounted for. I listened as the news came across about a plane crashing in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. I listened as the news anchors shockingly told that the World Trade towers collapsed, causing giant dust clouds to billow out from where the towers once stood.
I didn’t have to see the video of what it looked like to know that the world had changed dramatically.
At lunch time, I went home and turned on the tv, and the first thing I saw was a replay of the towers collapsing. Every television station was broadcasting live coverage of what was going on.
I had art history class that afternoon, and the first half of the class all we talked about was what happened. My classmates reactions ranged from sadness and confusion, to shock and anger.
It’s now ten years later, and, unfortunately, I think there is a good portion of America that has forgotten that day. Some have forgotten because they’ve been enticed by irrational conspiracy theories. Others have forgotten, because, like the terrorists who planned and carried out the attacks on September 11, 2001, they have been brainwashed to hate the United States. Still others have forgotten, because they don’t want to be labeled a “racist” or a “hater” by our society’s obnoxious squeaky wheels. And others have forgotten because they just don’t want to deal with it.
It’s important to remember. Not so that we hate those responsible, but rather that our resolve be strengthened. We need to remember, not so we perpetually cower in fear, but that we stand up for that which is good and right and just, and stand against that which is evil, wrong, and unjust.
If we forget what happened that day, those lost, how it felt, and what we learned from that day, we can’t.
9/11 is a day to remember – a day for reverence.
Remember where you were that day, today.
) but not that it matters. Writing is an outlet for me, and I feel better and more at peace for doing it, regardless if it is read by the masses or not.
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