My Two Cents
I'm one of probably a billion or so bloggers writing on this topic in the next 24 hours or so, but I'll live with the spectre of unoriginality looming over my head. After all, it's a big event.
Of course. It's the inevitable 9-11 blog. People of my mother's generation remember where they were and what they were doing when Kennedy was shot. For my grandparents it was the end of the Great War. People my age or a little older can at least remember when John Lennon was killed. But now even children the age of The Clone and Red can remember 9-11 and the days that followed.
Me, I was 8 months pregnant with Little Bit. I was working in a mental health organization, her daddy was going to school and we shared a car. We also gave rides to two of his classmates who lived in our area of town, quite a ways away from the school. So each morning, either he would drop me off at work and then continue on to school with our passengers, or I would drop them all off at school and then head to work. On September 11, he was dropping me off, and we were running a little late, as usual. Just as we were pulling in to the parking lot at my office, we heard a news report that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center. The natural assumption, at the time, was that it was some horrible accident. (Would it ever cross your mind to think that today?)nnBut even as we sat in the car listening to the news and making morbid jokes about how blind the pilot must have been to have just not seen such a big building, they announced that another plane had flown into the other tower. You could literally see on all of our faces, the moment that it sunk in. Oh shit. This is no accident.
Well, we could just forget about getting anything done at work that day, but my coworkers and I stayed there. The TV in the common room of the clinic where I officed, stayed on all day. Staff and consumers alike sat in silence as we watched footage. We must have seen those planes hit half a million times, as the stations ran it in almost a loop... over and over and over again, towers collapsing, people screaming, crying, running in the streets... news of the plane crashing into the Pentagon, and into that field in Pennsylvania - that news came, and a little bit of footage with it, but mostly it was the towers. Little Bit's daddy showed up with his classmates in tow; their classes had been cancelled for the day. They joined us as we all sat watching. I remember that every so often I would be surprised to suddenly feel wetness on my cheeks; I was crying without even realizing it. I remember worrying for the daughters I was already raising, and flat-out panicking for the one I was carrying... knowing that the shock and grief I was feeling would affect her more deeply. Wondering what right I had, to be bringing her into such a scary world, especially when I didn't have the resources I felt I would need, to shelter her, to protect her, to keep her from harm. I bet a lot of expectant and new parents had that same feeling that day.
Well, as it does with everything, time went on. Five years now, has gone on. In some ways, most of us are much the same as we were on September 10, 2001. In other ways, our nation, our whole world, has changed. Something was taken from us that day that we will never get back. But, being the eternal cockeyed optimist, I like to thing something was given to us that day, too. A gift. The gift of knowing not to take things for granted. The gift of appreciating the things we have while we still have them. And the gift of those first several, glorious days when we as Americans were more united than we have ever been.
Of course. It's the inevitable 9-11 blog. People of my mother's generation remember where they were and what they were doing when Kennedy was shot. For my grandparents it was the end of the Great War. People my age or a little older can at least remember when John Lennon was killed. But now even children the age of The Clone and Red can remember 9-11 and the days that followed.
Me, I was 8 months pregnant with Little Bit. I was working in a mental health organization, her daddy was going to school and we shared a car. We also gave rides to two of his classmates who lived in our area of town, quite a ways away from the school. So each morning, either he would drop me off at work and then continue on to school with our passengers, or I would drop them all off at school and then head to work. On September 11, he was dropping me off, and we were running a little late, as usual. Just as we were pulling in to the parking lot at my office, we heard a news report that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center. The natural assumption, at the time, was that it was some horrible accident. (Would it ever cross your mind to think that today?)nnBut even as we sat in the car listening to the news and making morbid jokes about how blind the pilot must have been to have just not seen such a big building, they announced that another plane had flown into the other tower. You could literally see on all of our faces, the moment that it sunk in. Oh shit. This is no accident.
Well, we could just forget about getting anything done at work that day, but my coworkers and I stayed there. The TV in the common room of the clinic where I officed, stayed on all day. Staff and consumers alike sat in silence as we watched footage. We must have seen those planes hit half a million times, as the stations ran it in almost a loop... over and over and over again, towers collapsing, people screaming, crying, running in the streets... news of the plane crashing into the Pentagon, and into that field in Pennsylvania - that news came, and a little bit of footage with it, but mostly it was the towers. Little Bit's daddy showed up with his classmates in tow; their classes had been cancelled for the day. They joined us as we all sat watching. I remember that every so often I would be surprised to suddenly feel wetness on my cheeks; I was crying without even realizing it. I remember worrying for the daughters I was already raising, and flat-out panicking for the one I was carrying... knowing that the shock and grief I was feeling would affect her more deeply. Wondering what right I had, to be bringing her into such a scary world, especially when I didn't have the resources I felt I would need, to shelter her, to protect her, to keep her from harm. I bet a lot of expectant and new parents had that same feeling that day.
Well, as it does with everything, time went on. Five years now, has gone on. In some ways, most of us are much the same as we were on September 10, 2001. In other ways, our nation, our whole world, has changed. Something was taken from us that day that we will never get back. But, being the eternal cockeyed optimist, I like to thing something was given to us that day, too. A gift. The gift of knowing not to take things for granted. The gift of appreciating the things we have while we still have them. And the gift of those first several, glorious days when we as Americans were more united than we have ever been.
posted by SaraSmile | 10:05 PM
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