Remembering 9/11
Blog Post #7
The bombing of Pearl Harbor. The assassination of JFK.
The attacks on September 11, 2001.
If you lived through any of these events, you will never forget where you were and what you were doing when you heard the news.
On September 11, 2001, I was a fifth grader at St. Patrick Catholic School in Bryan, Ohio. We were in computer class when the school secretary came into the room and leaned over to whisper something in my teacher’s ear. Immediately, she shot out of her chair and, in shock, announced that the Twin Towers had been hit by airplanes. America was under attack.
I had never heard of the Twin Towers. I didn’t know what they were or where they were, but when we were ushered from the computer lab and into our home room where the TV showed us again and again planes flying directly into them, thick black smoke covering the New York skyline, and people running and screaming for help, I knew these towers would be forever imprinted in my mind.
Our teachers allowed us to watch the historic horrors unfold, with another plane crashing into the Pentagon, the south tower collapsing, a plane crashing in a field in Pennsylvania, and the north tower slamming into the ground.
I was scared. Who would do this to us? Fifth grade Kristen began to mentally and verbally compile a list of America’s enemies and countries that might still be angry from the aftermath of WWII.
Later, the enemy was given a name and as I type this, I’m reminded of a quote from the TV show Alias, “In this job, you see darkness. You see the worst in people and though the jobs are different and the missions change, and the enemies have a thousand names, the one crucial thing, the one real responsibility you have is to not let your rage, and your resentment, and your disgust, darken you.”
The pure evil exhibited on 9/11 is not what I choose to remember. I choose to remember the innumerable accounts of heroism, sacrifice, bravery, valor, courage, and love. I choose to remember the images of firefighters, police officers, doctors, nurses, EMTS, and regular men and women running toward the danger. I choose to remember the 3,000 men, women, and children who, on this day, went home to be with Jesus. I choose to remember in prayer these victims and their families. I choose to remember American flags flying everywhere and the palpable unity of the people of our nation. I choose to remember a giant cross rising from the rubble and our stars and stripes soaring over a scene that could have symbolized defeat, but instead embodied the very best of the American spirit.
I choose to never forget.
