Remembering 9/11

On this very solemn day, I am going to forego the recipes and stories to share with you my memories of September 11, 2001. Many of us remember exactly where we were and what we were doing on the morning of September 11, 2001. My mom always said that it was the same for the day President Kennedy was shot. These historical tragedies affect us deeply as a nation, and their wide-reaching impact touches everyone, at some level. 

I was in my classroom at Brookville Jr./Sr. High School. At the time, I taught 7th, 8th, and 9th grade English. I remember a staff member stopping by my room to tell me something big was going on in NYC. I was on my prep period when the first tower fell. At first, people thought it was merely a tragic accident. I turned on my classroom television and saw the impact played over and over. Then, as things progressed, it became clear that there was a more sinister plot behind what was happening. The bell rang; I turned off the television, and my second-period class filtered in. The kids were abuzz with the news. Some asked me what I had heard; some asked me to turn on the television; some seemed worried or slightly afraid. 

We discussed what we'd heard from various faculty and staff, the television, and other students. I remember telling my students to remain calm; it would all be okay. A few minutes later, a school-wide announcement came on, asking everyone to turn on their televisions. Every channel was covering NYC. Updates were coming in every few minutes. The kids sat in silence. Then, the second tower was hit. I remember the unified gasp, then silence. I remember the terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach as the news anchor informed us that it was believed to be a terrorist attack and that it was not an isolated incident; more flights were believed to be affected. I also remember the sheer panic I felt because my dad was supposed to be in the air, flying home from his ranch in Texas.

I broke the school rules, pulled out my phone, and dialed my dad's number. The call would not go through. I didn't know then that cell service was overloaded and the call couldn't go through. My kids, God love them, asked me if I was okay. I told them that my dad was supposed to be on a flight home from Texas. A few of the kids reassured me it would be okay. One of my favorite girls asked if I needed a hug. I asked the kids to remain seated and stepped across the hall to the jr. high office to ask permission to call home. Permission was granted. I reached my mom. She hadn't heard from my dad, but she knew his flight number and shared it with me. 

I went back to my classroom, and the kids hadn't moved. You could have heard a pin drop throughout the entire school. We all just sat helplessly watching the horrors of the day unfold. Students remained in their current classrooms until the decision was made to send everyone home to be with their families. I remember calling my mom again before I left the school. She still had not heard from my dad. I cried as I drove the few short blocks from the school to my little cottage by the library in Brookville. When I got to my house, I turned on the television and called my mom. We both sat on the phone, crying over what was happening and being frightened for my dad.

I specifically remember sitting in my living room watching the news and sobbing as I witnessed people holding hands and jumping to their deaths from the flaming buildings. That image sticks with me to this day. 

We eventually learned my dad was safe. School was canceled for the rest of the week. I adopted a frail, neglected Himalayan cat from the shelter on September 12. The vet treated her for free because he said that seeing the kindness in someone who would give such a small creature a second chance was what he needed to restore his faith in humanity.  

After that, there were speeches, declarations, and rescues. I remember being struck by the irony that the absolute worst in humanity could also bring out the absolute best. I remember small kindnesses shown. I remember everyone being a little gentler. I remember it being a very dark time. 

Now, it blows my mind that my child doesn't grasp the enormity and devastation of that time. To her, it is another piece of our history, but she has no emotional connection to it. She sits and listens to her parents recollect their memories of the day. She asks questions, but doesn't feel the connection we feel. I can't fully make her understand the impact that day had on our country and society. It also blows my mind that it was 25 years ago. To her young mind, that is a lifetime. 

So, my dear reader, if you remember that day, I gently encourage you to revisit all the emotions of that day. We must never forget. We must share our memories with our young people. They must understand that the actions of a few can impact a nation. Also, be a little gentler today and hug your loved ones; be kind to a stranger, and be gracious. On this day of solemnity, stay safe, be smart, remember, and keep washing your hands.