In Rememberance of September 11th: Ten Years Later

It is September 11^th once again. I sit here, having spent the day with loved ones, enjoying good food, watching football, and, of course, watching hours of news coverage. I spent most of last night watching news coverage, into the wee hours of the morning, and remembering that day, remembering where I was, what I was doing, how I felt, and the way things were in the days that followed. I cried at commercials, news stories, and even the Sunday comics. I cried remembering all the horror that befell this country that fateful day, ten years ago. I cried for the lives lost that day, and the years of war that have followed. I cried for the innocence lost to so many. I cried for the families that struggle to make it through each day since. I cried watching the Bears game earlier today, as I listened to the amazingly passionate rendition of our National Anthem, and the passionate cheers of the crowd.

I remember that day. It hardly seems ten years have past. I am a far different person than I was that day, and partly because of the terrorist attack on America.

The morning started like so many others before it. I had just put my son on the bus for school. I came back in the house, and turned on the television. I guess I was a little late in tuning in, because the first thing I saw, was that there was an explosion at the Pentagon. I grabbed my phone and called my fiance at the time. He had no television, so I was relaying details over the phone, as he scrambled to find a radio station that was covering the events.

We talked over each other as we attempted to figure out what was going on, and who was responsible. All the usual suspects came up, Korea, Iran, Lebanon, etc. Little did we know, it wasn't a country, but an ideology. Horrific images kept flashing across the screen, each more awful than the last. Flames and smoke pouring out of once tall, proud buildings. Screams of terror as fire destroyed so much. The most horrific images were those of desperate, trapped people, with no other way out, jumping to their deaths rather than suffocate and burn in the buildings.

I was terrified as to what this all meant. My fiance was already enlisted in the military, and what did that mean for him? Depending on who did this, it could mean so many things. Would he go to war? In the days that followed, a strangeness set over my world. A trip out to the city left me dumbfounded. My son's doctor was near the airport, but on the 12^th of September, not a single plane was in the air. The silence of the area was eerie. On the other hand, the spirit of unity that filled this country was amazing. It seemed that every song they played on the radio was a touching, patriotic tribute to honor the survivor spirit of America. Red, white and blue covered the landscape, and my heart was filled with a certain amount of hope for the future.

I even remember the first time I really laughed after that day...it was strange. I was watching a George Carlin comedy special. George Carlin has a way of putting life into perspective, while still making you laugh. It was strange to laugh. I was almost guilty for laughing, but at the same time knew that it was important to laugh. A life without laughter is no life at all.

As the years have passed, a lot has changed. As I said, I am a far different person than I was that day. My son has passed away, my fiance became my husband, and then my ex-husband. I have lost several friends and family over the years, and even George Carlin has passed away. My daughter was born, I moved here, I moved there, and life went on. I am eternally grateful for that, while still remembering those who's life did not go on that day. So many lives lost...so many families torn apart due to the senseless tragedy. So many lives lost in the years of war that followed. So many lives changed by the events of a single, carefree, late summer morning.

I often ask myself why? Why did this happen? A group of people who don't agree with us, who don't see things the way we do, felt the need to destroy us. They plotted out an act so terrible that it was meant to bring us to our knees. Symbols of our government, symbols of our financial power....targeted in an attempt to destroy our entire existence. I am grateful to say that they failed. We are still here, we are still alive. We are survivors.

As a small group of colonies, we fought against a major world power and won. We grew as a nation, and we grew strong. We survived a potentially crippling civil war, and came out on the other side a stronger nation. We fight, we struggle, but we survive. We may not always agree, we may fight and argue, but that is our right. We are allowed to disagree, and that is part of what makes us strong. It is often with a varied array of opinions and ideas, that true greatness shines through.

I look at this country today, though, and I wonder where that united spirit that was so apparent in the weeks and months following September 11^th went. Chants of USA filled the air, and flags flew from buildings, poles, in yards, and on vehicles. Now, I watch the news and see stories of children being sent home for wearing that same flag on their clothing. I see stories of shops and homes being told that they cannot fly the flag. What happened? Some say it's offensive. How is it offensive? This is the United States of America, after all. That flag represents everything we have struggled for, everything we have achieved, every person who died protecting the freedom of our great nation. If that offends you, why are you here?

I look at the world today and see all the complaining people do over petty things. It upsets me. Airport security is one issue. Rules and procedures are put in place in response to the various attempts at attack that have followed September 11^th. I agree, it is a pain to sit through a long security line, to take off my shoes, disrupt all my belongings that I carefully packed for my flight, and subject myself to scans or invasive physical pat-downs. I would rather go through all of that than think about the possible alternative. In America today, there are far greater issues at hand than a little inconvenience at the airport.

Watching all the news coverage of the tenth anniversary, I found myself thinking back on it all, and thinking about where we have come since then, and where we are now. The unifying spirit that filled this country has faded. It saddens me to say this, but it faded all too quickly. I have always been proud of my country, proud to call myself an American. In ways, I am proud of the way we have survived something so terrible, proud of the actions of so many great Americans following that great tragedy, proud to have been among great heroes, and proud of the survivor spirit that has always been a part of this great nation. There are things I am not proud of. I admit that, but then...that is an issue for another hub.