Never Forget

I'm going to derail my blogging project one more time... to take a moment to remember.

Remember 9/11/01.

Remember the over 3,000 people who died that day... or because of the events of that day.

The true number may never be known.

Some families never got to bury their loved ones... because there was simply nothing left.

Remember the millions of lives changed by that day.

Remember the men and women who still fight to defend this country to this day.

What follows is my perspective - straight from my journal, written on 9/11/01.  I don't believe history is written by numbers and dates and names... I believe history is written by how it feels to live it.  I can't speak for anyone else.  That day was far worse for so many other people than it was for me.  But this is what it was like to be 12 years old on that day... to lose that childlike innocence forever because of evil, horrible tragedy.

Please note that all facts may not be accurate.  I only knew what was being reported on the news and it was so confusing and scary.  I worried about friends I knew only online, from all over the world.  I have chosen not to edit errant facts because I believe they speak to the general state of confusion of that day and the days that followed.

From the mind of a 12 year old girl, on 9/11/2001:

Today is a day that will survive in infamy forever.  This morning, at 8:45 AM, a commercial jet liner carrying many passengers crashed into one of the twin buildings of the World Trade Center.  Hours later, the building collapsed and another commercial airliner crashed into the second WTC twin building.  It soon collapsed as well.  Also, a plane crashed into the Pentagon in Washington DC.  Part of the building collapsed.  A plane crashed somewhere in PA, near where 2 of my friends live.  It was believed to be headed for either the White House or the Capitol building.  All of the planes were hijacked.  All were carrying a full crew.  The planes were headed across the country.  They used these planes because as they had a full load of fuel, they would act as a flying bomb full of innocent people.  In New York City, I have not much detail.  Marco could see the debris from his office.  The number of people killed and injured is unknown.  At the pentagon, still not much data.  Number of people killed and injured, unknown.  In Pennsylvania, the plane crashed two miles from a school, 20 miles from Sheila and 8 miles from Noel.  Sheila says the craeter is huge.  Other buildings around the World Trade Center collapsed later and one is not expected to last through the night.  There were many miracles on this day.  It's a miracle that all my friends all over the world are okay.  It's a miracle that many were saved from death in these tragedies.  Lots of miracles.  When I awoke this morning, it was a normal day.  The bluest sky I'd ever seen.  Jen e-mailed me.  We had fun in math class.  I had a good science class.  Lunch was fun and we had an extra long recess.  I did better than ever in band.  I sang well in choir.  Then, someone came on the announcements.  "In light of the recent tragedy, all after school activities are cancelled."  Cheers from the boys.  "What tragedy?" I whispered to the girl next to me.  She said "A plane crashed into the twin towers, and into the pentagon."  I did not understand the severity, nor did I know about the hijacking.  My language arts teacher gave us a longer story.  In tech ed we watched news for 8 minutes at the end of the period.  My social studies teacher made no reference.  When I went home, I watched the news and checked on all my internet friends.  I heard from all but Marco, among my closest friends.  Then we went to church to pray.  Hope and Ben, kids I babysit, saw my crying.  When I went home, I checked online, and finally found Marco.  I had been SO worried!  Then, I wrote this account of the infamous day in US history.  Thus ends my day, horrific as it was, now I must sleep.

Two days later, dated 9/13/2001, the next entry in my journal read as follows:

The government suspects Osama Bin Loden and his supporters in Afganistan of the terrorist attacks.  I fear we will bomb Afganistan in retaliation - OMG, I hear an airplane low.  Okay, it's okay now.  And then we will go to war with them.  Palestine will go against us too, possibly resulting in WWIII.  Please, not in my lifetime.  I am terrified of airplanes now.  I won't be flying any time soon. Tomorrow is National Flag Day, National Red, White and Blue Day, and at noon everyone is going to take 10 minutes of silence to remember the lost.  Church bells everywhere will ring.  Maeve, the moderator of my JAG board, has gone to New York to help the search and rescue efforts.  I think it is heroic of her.  God bless her soul.  They found the black box from the Pennsilvania flight.  They also found several people possibly involved terrorists.  A guy in NY gave a fake ID and said he was a pilot, but was found out.  It ain't over.  Lisa's in florida, and so is a hurricane.  Jen is in Texas, and so is an escaped convict who is armed and dangerous.  I will not tell this to Marco.  More buildings have collapsed or been damaged.  A small private jet was found circling President Bush's ranch today.  Military planes forced it to land, and they have taken the pilots into custody.  More tomorrow.  Arts in the Alley parade cancelled.  Now I am tired. 

The following day, 9/14/2001, this:

They found the flight data recorder from the flight that crashed in PA.  It is confirmed that the passengers on that flight did try to overtake the terrorists, and I'd say they did well.  That was heroic.  It rained in NY today.  That did not help the search and rescue efforts.  Jessica is over.  We are having a sale tomorrow to raise money to send to the American Red Cross for the NY/DC/PA rescue efforts.  I already have $20 from the carnival to send.  I WILL make money for them, and it WILL help.  If I can't donate blood I will donate money. 

Two pages later, my 'official will' followed.  In case I were to die.   The fear I felt in those days was real... 9/11 was the day my eyes were opened to the wider world, to tragedy, to heartbreak, and to hate.  It was a day that changed the entire course of history and the entire course of my life as well.  What preceded were the thoughts of someone on that day who was only a terrified child, and now years later as an adult has seen justice done.  If the impact was this huge on a twelve year old little girl in Ohio, who was so far removed... I can't imagine the feelings of both that day and this one for those who were closer to the tragedy.  

After 9/11, psychologists came forward and asked the media to stop showing the images, saying they would traumatize us and breed hate and anger.

As for trauma... there are things you only need to see once to be traumatized.  There was no going back after that day.

As for hate and anger... I am a Christian.  I believe in forgiveness.  I also believe in justice, and I believe in evil, and we SHOULD be angry at evil.

So no, I do not believe in censoring those images.  If you prefer not to see them, please scroll past them.  To me, they are an important part of remembering the emotion, the depth of tragedy, the reality... of that day.  I would feel remiss not to include them in this post.

This image will be burned into my memory forever.  Unspeakable horror.

The pentagon.  I drove by it a year and a half later... and the scars remained.  Some scars never fade.

The grave of heroes.  May their brave souls rest in peace.

Out of the ashes of that terrible day rose acts of heroism.  Indescribable human goodness.  Shows of love and unity.  A promise... to never forget.  After a few days, this image surfaced, and was emblazoned on every media site:

To the heroes of that day:  We can never thank you enough.

I never forgot.  Not for one single minute.  Not a day went by that I didn't see those images through my mind, that I didn't feel the fear, fear like no other I had ever experienced, that was born on that day.  I was awakened to the world, to the evil and kindness alike, and to a calling... to DO something.  To be different.  To make a difference.  To be a part of the 'good'... to fight this horrible type of evil.  I never forgot.  I never will.  I refuse.

A year later, memorial services were in full swing.  Thousands of people gathered at hundreds of locations nationwide and even around the world, to remember the tragedy, and the heroism, that had occurred one year earlier.  I watched this on my TV screen until I fell asleep:

All the way up to Heaven.

I listened to them read the names.  Toll the bell.  I observed a moment of silence.  I relived that day, heart breaking for the others reliving it who had lost more than innocence on that day.  

More information came out.  We learned about the final acts of heroism by people on the planes... the self sacrificial, courageous fight that likely prevented flight 93 from finding its intended target.  I heard the audio from the plane.  These people became my heroes... and my heart broke that they were gone... leaving countless loved ones behind.

To the people who will never know the change in the world that they brought about in their final act.

As more years passed, I felt angry because it seemed like the world had already forgotten.  The second year, I had to search far and wide to find a memorial service to go to.  Five years from 9/11, the only memorial within driving distance of me, in a major metropolitan area, was at the state Historical Society.  I went.  I took M with me.  She was only 7, and I explained it to her in an age appropriate way.  I didn't believe in sheltering her from the truth.  I wanted her to know the heroes of that day, know the evil in the world, and know that we had to fight it... but still know that she was safe.  Unlike me, those images were never emblazoned into her mind.  She never lay awake all night jumping to the window every time she heard a plane.  I gave thanks that she wouldn't experience the terror I did, and so many others did... but I felt that she needed to know.  Those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it.

One year, I read all the names of the victims out loud, by myself, in my room.  Another year, terribly ill, I lie in bed all day watching the programming on TV.  I remember people asking me, year after year, why do you torture yourself watching this and reliving this all over again?  My answer is the same now as it was then.  I don't want to forget a single thing.  I want to know the stories of as many individuals as possible.  I want to remember each and every one of those victims for who they were.  I will not turn away because it hurts to remember - I can't.  I feel I owe it to the men, women and children who died that day... to never forget them.

Now... a beautiful memorial was built and dedicated last year - ten years from that horrible day.  It was beautifully designed, the footprints of the two buildings inset in the ground, reminding us all of the hole left in our lives by the loss of so many people that day.  Each and every name engraved.  Greenery planted... reminding us that new life rises out of the ashes.  I listened to the bell toll again, a decade later, unable to comprehend that it had been so long since our entire world had changed... still, ten years later, unable to believe it really happened... but also knowing it did.

May this day, these memorials, these memories, be a testament to the heroes of that day.  To their stories.  To the ordinary people who woke up never knowing the horror they were about to experience.  To the men and women who, when everyone else ran from danger, climbed UP floor after floor of stairs, dedicated to saving lives, knowing they were risking their own.  May the mark of the fallen on this world never fade.  May we never forget.  For all that is necessary for evil to triumph, is for good men to stand by and do nothing.  Do something.  Remember.