So many pieces of our lives are chronicled by the passage of time; now, 15 years after one of The United States darkest hours, parts of the 9/11 story are still becoming clear to many kids like me who pieced together moments of history knowing little more than that something was wrong. My parents shielded me, then only four years old, from the horrific details of 9/11. I’ve never been fond of airplanes and besides being young for such extreme content, they feared it would be even harder to get me on an airplane if I understood what had happened. The impact that Tuesday had on the country as a whole was hard to escape though, so I gathered bits and pieces of information to supplement my understanding of what exactly was wrong.
My first clear encounter with the events of 9/11 occurred by accident not a year later. In May of 2002 I was in New York City with my mom and dad, we were looking for a subway station, when all of a sudden we turned a corner and found ourselves face to face with Ground Zero, still in disarray after only 9 months of recovery. Caution tape lead us quickly away and my parents tried to shield me once again from the scene, but I managed to catch a glimpse. That became my first visual image of 9/11.
I took a trip to Washington DC with my 8th grade history class in middle school. We toured many museums and monuments, but the one that has stuck with me the longest has been the Newseum in DC. There is a whole exhibit dedicated to the ways in which 9/11 ways broadcasted to the masses in 2001. That was the first time I had ever seen the very graphic footage of the 9/11 attacks.
In 2011, I was at home with my family when two very large jets from our local air force base performed a series of flyovers, I assume in honor of the 10 year anniversary of 9/11. They flew low, they were fast, and they were loud. My first thought wasn’t one of power but honestly one of fear. It scared me. Even though I knew about the events of 9/11 I will admit that every year I feel a bit of unease and ignorance on the day. When those planes flew over our neighborhood they shook my whole house for a split second. That was the first time I felt fear because of 9/11.
I visited the 9/11 Museum in New York this summer and I was met with the same news reels displaying and documenting the same horrific events as I had seen at the Newseum, but actually being on Ground Zero, within the remaining walls of The World Trade Center, now with the knowledge of what happened there only 15 years earlier, with the capacity to understand and feel all of the emotion involved with that day. I sat on a bench next to the only tree still standing from 2001 and felt every emotion at once: The trees have seen horror. The walls have touched death. And the air, many a last breath. The beams supported not only a building, but they became the foundation of many dreams. Three numbers, lead to wonder how fears became tears. I have no clue how to comprehend the events of 15 years ago, but if there’s one thing I know, it was that that was the day that I lived 9/11/2001 for myself.
Having now lived 9/11 for myself, and for all those in my generation who have also come to share this day, I just want to say thank you to those who when their heads told them to run away, their hearts lead them straight into the chaos. We, in the US, always need a community of selflessness and honor, love and courage. Thank you for exhibiting the values of our nation, when our nation’s value was wavering. Like the tree that never fell, or the church that would not break, you assured all of us, even those too young to understand, that we as a country would never fall, and we would never break. Thank you.
