I have written about the tragedy of 9/11 in the US before, but I am revisiting that awful day in our history just to show that I have not forgotten. Today marks 20 years since four planes were crashed into significant buildings in New York City, Washington DC, and into a field in Pennsylvania (a thwarted attempt to destroy another building, as the news was getting out) by Middle Eastern terrorists.
Most people clearly remember where they were and what they were doing when they heard life-changing news. I was still teaching high school at the time. Third period (about the time that the disasters were happening) was my free period, but because a substitute couldn't be obtained for a particular teacher's absence, a number of us lost our free periods that day to cover for him. That particular class was 8th graders. He had left them with an assignment. All I had to do was supervise. (Translate: babysit.)
Before I left to go to that wing of the school to meet up with the class, I used the passing period time (5 minutes in those days) to check my private email. I normally got a daily devotional from a particular website which I would quickly read and clear. Had done that already...but there was another one from that site. Strange. It said there was a report of planes crashing into the World Trade Center in NYC, and ended with "Please pray for the people. Please pray for our country." That was my first word that the world was forever changed.
There was also an email from a dear radio friend with whom I was particularly close. He worked for the FAA as a technician for the Air Route Traffic Control Center at Indy International Airport. (In other words, he was not an air traffic controller, but worked in the same space, side by side with them.) His message was short and sweet, mentioning that they/we were in crisis. He ended it with, "This is the real deal." He was generally a jokester but didn't kid about serious stuff. Seeing "this is the real deal" is akin to hearing, "This is not a drill" on board a Navy ship.
I left my classroom and headed to the Industrial Arts wing where my charges were. I was all a-twitter. Something big was going on in the world and I was stuck in a classroom with no contact with the outside world. After introducing myself to the kids and giving them their assignment for that period, I started scouting around. The teacher for the woodshop next door had a TV up and running for his class. I asked to bring my charges in with his group...just for me, really. He agreed. I only had to move the kids a few feet from where they already were. They found places to sit as I was glued to the TV. Honestly? I'm not 100% sure that ANY of the kids in that room had any clue about what they were watching, IF they were watching. I didn't editorialize. I just left them to their own devices as long as they behaved...and they did. (Thank God. I think I would have exploded if anyone had expressed boredom or complaining!!)
I watched as the towers came down that period. I was largely speechless and didn't hear much about the Pentagon or the Pennsylvania field until I got home. I was transfixed with the news. In shock, I think. The world stood still for days and weeks. American air space was closed for four days. (It really felt strange to look up and see not a single con-trail in the sky.) We were all focused on "Ground Zero" and the responders that were climbing around the "pile" in search of survivors. (Essentially, there were none but maybe four fireman in a hole in the wreckage.) It was a very long time before normal television programming returned to normal. ALL of the news was about NYC.
I was caught up in the futility of the situation. Hundreds of people were jumping from the buildings, choosing to die quickly rather than to fry or suffocate. I simply couldn't/can't imagine the agonizing choice. And then there were the pictures of first responders--tough firemen and police who were dedicated to rescue--covered in dust with faces that registered shock and helplessness. I think those images burned into my psyche more than anything else. Twenty years later, I am still haunted by those thoughts and pictures.
Then there were the 35 folks in Flight 93 who discovered the truth about the plane's mission and took it upon themselves to rush the cockpit full of terrorists in an effort to save the potential target...knowing full well that they had nothing to lose. The plane was going to be crashed whether they acted or not. They called their relatives and said their good-byes before they took action. I can't even fathom that kind of courage! The plane was crashed into the ground and all were lost, including the terrorists, but what heroes the passengers on that plane were!
As America was still traumatized and trying to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas after that, my daughter had found fabric that had little flags on it. She made cloth Christmas ornaments out of those flags, with white backing and ribbon handles. On the back, she wrote, "United we stand. September 11, 2001." Then she gave them to family. I cherish mine. It is a yearly reminder that Christmas is still gonna happen, no matter what tragedies the world presents.
In the two decades since this horrible event, life has changed. Airplane cockpits have been reinforced to make them impenetrable. Getting through airports is tougher. Security is tighter. People in airplanes that contain others who pose threats to the peace and security of the flight are taken off the plane as soon as possible. Passengers are no longer passive bystanders. In a pinch, they take action to prevent being sitting ducks in an aircraft in flight. We all look at each other a little differently. It isn't always a good thing, but it is understandable.
We Americans are so spoiled. We got sucker-punched on December 7, 1941, but apparently we forgot how really vulnerable we are to those who want to do us harm. We lost our innocence on September 11, 2001. Twenty years later, we have gone back to old ways of thinking; old ways of being. Can 9/11 happen again? You bet it can, not just to the U.S. but to any other free country in the world. I worry about the world that my grandchildren are inheriting on so many levels. I'll be gone before long, but I pray every day for peace and love to prevail. Yeah...I'm that much of a dreamer.
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