On September 11, 2001, beautiful blue skies in New York, Virginia, and Pennsylvania, were pierced by fire and ash. Innocent people from all across the world became martyrs for freedom. The goal of the attackers was to deter the United States’ mission to spread democracy across the globe. They thought that fear and terror could force the ideals of liberty into submission.
I was five years old on that day. I was unaware, confused as I saw my kindergarten teacher and her colleagues gasp and break down into tears. My parents told my brother, about eight at the time, but kept me blissfully in the dark. Looking back, I guess I thank them. My mind wouldn’t have been able to comprehend that level of tragedy. But as the years have gone by, I’ve learned more and more. I’ve watched videos of the airplanes crash into the Twin Towers and burst into flames. I’ve felt breathless and heavy chested watching as people jump to their deaths from over a thousand feet in the air, choosing that fate over the inferno that burned around them. I often stop and think about what it would be like to have to make that decision. How would I choose my end? Would I accept my own death? Would I choose the manner in which I prefer to experience it?
As the years have gone by, 9/11 remains a day that we, as Americans, all pause to remember the chaos of that Tuesday morning. For the past several years, my mom has strived to honor each and every victim. She works with her students at Randall Middle School in Lithia, Florida, to put the name of each victim on a placard and organizes them into the shape of an American flag. She reminds these children of the unintentional sacrifice those who died that day made.
Author David Levithan once wrote, “What separates us from the animals, what separates us from the chaos, is our ability to mourn people we’ve never met.” Today, we mourn the honored dead, most of us never having been graced by their presence. Today, my mom ensures that future generations know of this attack. As students come through her class having been born after 2001, she finds it necessary to teach them of this tragedy. She reminds her students of the debt we owe those who died this day fourteen years ago: to carry on and never forget.
A hundred years from now, people who experienced this event firsthand and watched it live on television will no longer be with us. This day, like Pearl Harbor and the assassination of JFK, will live on in stories and media, but only if we keep it alive. The grief, the anger, and the unity must survive the test of new generations. The future generations must understand September 11th and what it stands for.
September 11th, 2001, was a day in which the United States was tested like never before on her own ground. The foundations of our country were shaken with each impact but, unlike the towers that once defined the Manhattan skyline, they did not crumble. Steel and concrete can burn, but liberty and justice could weather the flames of hate for the rest of time, but only if we keep them strong in our minds.
