This day in history

When I got home from Jazzercise this morning, my dad was sitting in the family room watching TV (as he is wont to do). But instead of Andy Griffith or No Reservations, he had tuned the television to the History Channel. I had things to do upstairs, but thought I'd hang around and watch for just a bit while I ate breakfast. WRONG. Because today is September 11, and as soon as I caught a glimpse of the 9/11 programming I could not look away. Somehow, the images from that day haunt me more now than they did eight years ago, and I couldn't allow myself to let this day go by without mention it.

Eight years ago I was sitting in first period (9th grade algebra. Gross.), waiting for the bell to ring, when someone came over the loud speaker and made a nonsensical announcement. For some reason that I can't remember, this announcement inspired a guy in my class to say, "Oh yeah, a plane hit the World Trade Center this morning." At this point everyone thought that a commercial plane had accidentally flown off course, whatever, no big deal (relatively speaking). It wasn't until second period (Pre-AP English I. Hooray!) that the whole school began to realize that the incident was more serious. My English teacher turned on the news for us mid-way through class and we all sat and watched the chaos. My third period World Geography teacher wouldn't allow us to watch. That was her prerogative, of course, but it made for an unruly bunch of angry freshmen. After all, our history, our generation's tragedy, was in the making and we weren't being permitted to see it.

I watched more when I got home, and my heart sank down below the floor when I saw videos of people--mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, sisters, bothers, children--jumping from the top floors of the burning buildings. I'd visited those buildings once, about three years before. I'd stood at the top and looked out over the city. It was a long way down.

When the Pledge of Allegiance came over the loud speaker on September 12, I teared up. My English teacher (a chubby, middle-aged, fantastically nutty woman) said in complete seriousness that she wanted to join the military. Blood banks across the country were flooded with donations. And suddenly, New Yorkers were no longer harsh, Californians were no longer hippies, and Texans were no longer cowboys hell-bent on secession. We were all simply Americans, and we just wanted to hug across state lines and tell each other that everything was going be OK.

We all encourage each other to remember the heroes and the fallen every year on this day--an important message to be sure--but we should also remember how we felt about one another eight years ago. We should appreciate the bond that we share in spite of our differences. And we should be grateful that there are three million people in this world who would hurt for us, pray for us, and rally around us should tragedy ever affect our lives again.