Remembering September 11th

10 years ago, 3,652 days ago, a tragedy changed the face of our nation forever. On this tenth anniversary of the World Trade center and Pentagon attacks, it is vital that we reflect and take stock in what has changed, both as a nation and individually.
In Issues class, we spent three days watching a documentary taped by two French brothers who were filming a movie about firefighters in New York. They followed their ladder to ground zero and got footage from within and outside the World Trade Center towers as they were hit and as they fell. The footage is like nothing I have ever seen. A scene from hell itself, with fire and dust and bodies everywhere. And yet, it was also a documentation of extreme heroism, bravery, and love for our nation and its people. As I watched, I felt a shadow of their fear, their anxiety, their confusion in the blasts. Then, I felt their desperation and desolation as they excavated the Pile, looking for survivors and bodies to return to families.  And finally, as they climbed the steps of a nearby building to raise the American flag, I felt their pride and patriotism. It is one thing to hear about 9/11 from articles, from parents and teachers, but it is another thing entirely to see it on film, from the lobby of Tower One itself. That was the closest I had ever been to the tragedy and it was an eye-opening documentary. It only reinforced the meaning of this 10th anniversary for me, and the sacrifice thousands made, and the grief we share as a nation, and will continue to share in the next 10 years and beyond.
This weekend I read an article from The New York Times online by James Barron entitled "A Day That Stands Alone". The article described the scene at  the 9/11 memorial opening and reflected on that day, and what it has meant, and will mean, for the United States. Part of the article was reserved for grief, for acknowledgement of the tragedy itself. As Barron states "There were also long moments of silence, first at 8:46 a.m., the time American Airlines Flight 11 struck the north tower, and again at 9:03 a.m., when United Airlines Flight 175 smashed into the other tower. Another silence - at ground zero and at the Pentagon- came at 9:37 a.m.. . .  when flight 77 slammed into [the Pentagon]. . . another moment of silence, at 10:03, marked the crash of . . . Flight 93. . . on which passengers tried to fight back. . ." These moments of silence, pauses for reflection, communicate the sheer enormity of the attacks, and the impact they had all across the nation. There was also a section on how Sept. 11th has redefined our nation. It has "redefined bridges and tunnels in a way that generations of commuters had never imagined, as potential targets." This particular sentences stuck with me. What were once daily commute areas, neutral, boring places to pass on the way to work or school, are now places of anxiety and fear for many Americans, let alone flying and airports, whose security measures have increased 100 fold post 9/11. It was one of those events that "divided things into "Before" and "after" (Barron). Travel is simply one of the things that will never be the same. Just as, with the new memorial, ground zero itself will forever be a place of remembrance and reflection. Hopefully, it will not be a place to recall fear, but one to bring to mind great heroism, national unity, and hope for the future.
Though it is not an article per-say, another item that struck me was the comics section of the Chicago Tribune. Baby Blues is a long favorite of mine and the image for today was a simple, poignant one. Wanda and her husband have left the trash, and laundry basket behind them, Hammie has left his basketball, Zoe, her book, and all are staring at the baby, who has built two towers out of blocks, their hands to their hearts. This image calls to mind the effect on families this event had, and how it affects our generation, having been just children when the planes hit and everything changed. Another favorite comic of mine is Mutts, cute stories from the perspective of a dog and cat. In this one, the dog's owner is walking him past the foggy outline of NYC, and the leash is stretched to full capacity. The dog's voice bubble says, simply, "Heal." Another eloquent reference to the nation's need for closure, and also its need to remember.
Today, I played the flute and piccolo in a small group of kids from the marching band at a ceremony at the village hall to remember 9/11 and to thank our firefighters and police officers for the sacrifices they make for our safety and well-being. We played several patriotic tunes and a few hymn-like melodies in honor of the anniversary. During this time, and afterwords, I reflected on what 9/11 has meant to me. Having been only 7 years old, I can barely remember where I was, or what I was doing. However, I do remember feelings, the fear, the confusion, the outrage. I remember sitting on the couch with my teddy bear, watching the news play, but now I can't even remember the shapes on the flickering screen. Regardless of my ability to recall the actual event, the atrocities that occurred on September 11th have shaped parts of my life and continue to do so. 9/11 turned travel into a nightmare, and turned my perception of monuments and other areas from their status as relics to that of potential targets. It has become the defining moment of our generation, and has sparked the war that we will inherit: the war on terror. But not today. Today, we inherit the grief for the lost, the gratitude for those who gave everything in service to their country, and the importance of this event in history, and we know now that it is our duty to remember it.