I love this image. The only two times I’ve been to NYC were both in 1999. This is what I remember the Manhattan skyline looking like from the Jersey side, where we took a ferry to the Statue of Liberty. Do you ever notice how we often classify time now? I often say, “oh, we did that pre-nine-eleven”… like when we able to park our cars, walk into the airport, and wait for people to arrive by plane at the gate. Or when we could put scissors or box cutters in our carry-ons. (Why would anyone WANT to put a box cutter in their carry-on unless they had evil intentions?) But I did pack a bag full of scissors and razor-bladed scrapbooking tools and carried them onto a plane in 1999. Airport security did check my bag, but when they saw what it was, they realized I was a harmless housewife, and sent me through.
I will never forget that morning, over 10 years ago. I was getting Taylor ready for school. He was in 1st grade. Megan was a preschooler and Ian was just one. I never have the TV on in the mornings (too much of a distraction), so I was clueless that the world had been plunged into chaos. Eric had already left for work, and I got a call from him on his cell. He had heard the news on the radio and told me I needed to turn on the TV. I sat in horror as I realized what was going on. How could this be happening? Do I take Taylor to school? Is it safe to leave the house? In the end, I did take him to school. I was in the minority though, as only about half the kids showed up that day. Looking back, I am glad I did it. Terrorists want us to be afraid. And as Americans have shown over the last 10 years, we will NOT cower to them.
I remember the first anniversary of 9/11. I think as a country we were still grieving. I think we expected “round two”. When it passed uneventfully, I think we took a big collective sigh of relief. And so many other 9/11’s have passed since then, each bringing the thought, “another year, and we are still here”. Things have been so quiet on the terrorism front, that it’s easy to forget. (Well, until you go to the airport.) I have spent the last few years of my life without watching the news. I have also worked hard to shield my children from watching and seeing senseless hate and violence that happens every day in this cruel world we live in. I find my life is so much happier without a daily dose of depression that comes with the “news”. Because of that, Ian (who is 11 now) has never seen the footage of the 9/11 attacks. In discussing it this week, he admitted, he didn’t even know what “9/11” was. That’s when I decided we had to act. If we are not careful, the painful memories of that day will be lost in just one or two generations.
I DVR’d a couple programs airing on Fox News last night and we sat down as a family to watch one that was basically a “recap” documentary. I wanted Ian (and all my kids) to understand the horror of terrorism and the lessons we’ve learned since then. I was dreading it, though. As I feared, it brought back every emotion I had then. Especially hard for me were the interviews with the wives of the Flight 93 heroes. Living in the bay area in 2001, this story was especially important to us. About half of that plane were Bay Area residents since it was the one bound for San Francisco. Two men in particular had called their wives from the plane and so we knew details about what was happening in the plane. I’m still amazed at the courage ordinary people showed when they figured out they were being taken hostage on a suicide mission.
It was a hard program for us all to get through. I kept using the “skip 30 seconds forward button” on the remote. Hearing the phone calls to 911 were unbearable, and I would not let my kids see the footage of people on fire jumping out of windows in the towers 60 stories up. (That is the one image that will haunt me forever.) Ian kept leaving the room, and at one point, I found him in the other room crying. We cried together, and I explained to him how important it is to remember how sad this makes us. And to remember how lucky we are to live in America. We finished the night by watching Music and the Spoken Word by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Tom Brokaw was the special guest narrator and it was very well done. It took the feeling of sorrow from our home and replaced it with peace. Music can do that for the soul.
I know that I will never forget the pain of September 11, 2001. Now I must teach my children to “never forget”. It was hard to re-watch it all again last night, but in doing so we honor those whose lives were lost that day.
My brother inspired this post. Yesterday, he broke his blogging silence and wrote a very moving post about 9/11. You can read it here. Thanks, Adam, for inspiring me to get this jumbled mess out of my head and into cyberspace. Love you, dude!
