Earlier I was thinking about the fact that the 10th anniversary of September 11 falls on the first official football Sunday of the NFL. It seems kind of absurd, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how symbolic it is of how amazing this country is.
Most of us will spend the day remembering where we were during that horrific attack, crying for lives lost, and celebrating the men and women who work to make sure we never experience it again.
Most of us will also be tailgating or cooking out, sitting in front of the TV or in a stadium to cheer on our favorite teams, and spending insane amounts of time crafting our fantasy football rosters.
Remembering the past and honoring our fellow citizens, yet moving on with our lives and enjoying our freedom, what better way to spend this Sunday? What better symbol of the United States?
In the recent weeks, I've heard a few people say, "Why do we have to keep remembering September 11 every year? Isn't it time to move on?"
I can't tell you how mad those words make me. It's almost as annoying as the people who try to politicize the day. No matter what you think about today's political atmosphere, who you vote for, or what your beliefs are, I'd like to think today is the one day we can get past that. As a matter of fact, in the days following the attack, that's one thing that really stood out to me: the unity, the patriotism, the way people, at least in my community, seemed to come together and be a little nicer to each other. A few days ago, I saw the people at the NYSE in tears as they sang "God Bless America." I could use a little more of that, myself.
To the people who say "let's just move on and forget it," I want to show them the terrible videos of people jumping from the World Trade Center to their deaths, and ask them again if they think we should forget it. Should we move on and forget the people who got up and went to work on that Tuesday morning, not knowing the last decision they'd ever have to make would be whether to burn or jump? Should we forget that there are people in this world who hate this country and every person in it and will kill us for no good reason? Should we forget that there was a day in time when most of were able to put aside our differences and reach out to our fellow man?
I really have to wonder about anyone who is old enough and who can totally forget that day. Every year with the exception of the first anniversary, I sit down and re-write where I was that day. I do it on this blog or I do it in a Word document or I do it in a notebook. I didn't do it on the first anniversary, because every time I sat down to do it, I felt a sense of panic, but it always amazes me how much I can remember.
My example is always that I can remember what color eye shadow I wore that day, and I can remember what I was wearing. For anyone who has ever seen my make-up collection, this is quite the feat. It was a light silvery-puple, shimmery color. Cheap stuff I'd picked up in a drugstore. Obviously, I don't wear it anymore, but I still have the container in my make-up case. Just like I still have the blue and white "Georgia State" t-shirt I wore that day, even though age, moths and the washing machine have more or less prevented me from ever wearing it again.
Is any of that important? No. But it's my own little representation of how big that day was. I can't tell you what I wore on September 10, 2001 and I can't tell you what I wore on September 12, 2001. Hell, I can't even tell you what I wore two days ago.
I still remember hitting my snooze button so many times that morning that I had very little time to get ready for school. I still remember going to Chick-fil-A for breakfast, what I ordered and which employee was in the drive-thru. I remember driving down I-20, listening to "Barnes, Leslie & Jimmy" on 99x and switching to a CD when I got bored with a guest they were talking to. I still remember switching back after a couple of songs and listening to them talk about a plane accident in New York.
I remember a friend of one of the DJs sharing what she saw from her New York apartment. As I sat in the infamous Atlanta traffic, waiting to get on the 75/85 Connector, I wondered what was happening. I remember looking up in the sky and seeing planes flying around the skyscrapers in my beautiful city and being afraid that I would start seeing the same thing. I was bright-eyed, oblivious and barely 20. Terrorist attacks? Wars? Those only happened in other countries. I wondered if I should go home, but the most important thing on my mind was that on the Thursday before, I'd skipped the sociology class I was on my way to, and skipping twice in a row isn't a great idea.
I parked at the World of Coke and walked to my class. When my professor finally entered, she was frazzled and apologized that class may not go as planned. It took her a few minutes to compose herself, but she told those of us who had not been listening to the radio or watching a TV in a dorm or the student center what was happening. The girl sitting next to me told me her cousin worked in the WTC and ran from the room with her cell phone. A few others left, and my professor told us she'd give us ten minutes to make phone calls if we needed to. Minutes after that, the girl who was sitting next to me re-entered the room. She stood in the back, at the top of the stairs and yelled, "Another plane has hit the Pentagon." With tears in her eyes, my professor told us to leave.
"I can't promise you the school is going to cancel classes, but my class is over. Go home. Be careful," she said.
That was all it took for me. I walked right back to the World of Coke and got into my car. On the way there, the atmosphere had changed. People were on the phone, talking to loved ones, crying and relaying information. Police officers were gathering and a SWAT team was beginning to swarm the parking lot where my car was.
As for the drive home, I remember frantically switching back and forth between radio stations to get more information. I remember sitting in traffic at the intersection of Peachstree Street and International Boulevard, right in front of the Hard Rock Cafe, willing the cars to move so I could get back to the safety of my house. I also remember questioning, for the first time in my life, my safety. I always felt safe in this country, but suddenly, I didn't. I always felt safe in my parents' home and that's where I wanted to be.
I sped down I-20 and so did everyone else, but the police officers we passed weren't interested in our driving. I remember following behind a police officer from Jacksonville, Florida and wondering what the patrol car was doing in Atlanta. And I remember getting home and feeling a small sense of relief. My mom made me go fill my car up with gas and told me to come straight home. I called friends who had gone to college in other cities and states and I parked myself in front of Peter Jennings and watched the news for days on end.
I always joke that I have panic attacks if I can't access some form of news, and I suppose that's not entirely a joke. I do freak out if I can't know what's going on in the world and that day is really when it started for me. Shortly after September 11, 2001, I got a job at a bookstore in the local mall. For the longest time, I would leave my purse in the car and only carry my keys and a few dollars for lunch into work with me. I felt the need to be prepared to leave at all times. I dream about airplanes crashing quite often. I used to have a recurring one where my dad, my cousin and I were swimming in my grandfather's pool and a plane starts to fall. It never lands on the pool, but we're always afraid it will. You can imagine my surprise when my dad told me once that he often has the same dream.
My point is this: I was nowhere near the attacks when they happened, but it stills affects me in ways I never imagined it would. I can't imagine how the people who were in New York or Washington that day actually felt. For someone to say we should "get over it," I have to wonder if those people have a soul.
Here are some other good links from friends about that day and a few other things I've written:
- My friends, Pat and Steve, have a story you won't want to miss. Steve was an Army reservist at the time and his best friend is a chaplain with the New York Air Guard who saw the aftermath firsthand.
- Meteorologist extraordinaire, Janice Dean, shares a beautiful story about how that day changed her life and led to meeting her husband.
- My friend, Sarah, shares her story; she was also in school at the time.
- My friend, Chris, shares his story.
- Two years ago, I was asked to remember Lisa Fenn Gordenstein as part of Project 2,996.
- And this year, I wrote a little story about the search and rescue dogs of 9/11 for a local website.
"Freedom itself was attacked this morning by a faceless coward and freedom will be defended." - President George W. Bush
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