Hello Beautiful People,
I was wearing khaki pants that were practically so faded they were white…
…and a red tank top…
…and a blue jean jacket…
Red. White. Blue.
Crazy how, twelve years later, that stuff still sticks with you, isn’t it?
I was in my social studies class when all of a sudden my teacher didn’t look right…
…and then the principal came on the loudspeaker…
A plane has crashed…
…into the Twin Towers…
…we don’t know much…
…it’s a small plane, we think…
…no need to panic, he said.
No need to panic.
My insides hurt remembering that.
And I don’t blame my principal, not for one second, for he did what any responsible principal or leader should do at a time like that. My insides hurt, cause I can still remember the smallest detail of that day.
That’s the thing, beautiful people. I remember. This isn’t something I lived via a history textbook. Or even via CNN. Or MSNBC. Or FOX. Or whatever newstation you watch. I remember, because I am a New Yorker, born and bred. I remember it all, as if it were yesterday. I remember watching the horrific events of that day unfold on a television screen in the library of my high school. I remember teachers crying. I remember friends crying. I remember crying myself. I remember being panicked that those I loved were hurt. Trapped. Dead. This was a pre Facebook and Twitter era, it was the days of AOL and AIM and profiles and away messages….
…and I remember, as if it was yesterday, the black and pink type away message of my friend Angela saying, Daddy Please Come Home.
He never came home. He. Never. Came. Home. His untimely death is something that changed the course of a family. His untimely death was something that touched the lives of everyone who knew and loved him and his children. It’s something that has stayed with us all.
The unspeakable acts of 9/11 happened twelve years ago. I was a junior in high school, and I remember it as if it were yesterday.
I’m a teacher now, and every time around this year, I find a way to make my lesson revolve around this day. Each and every year I walk into my classroom and explain to them what happened that day, because, even though they were five or six, they don’t remember. They don’t know. They don’t understand. They don’t understand a world prior to 9/11. They’ve grown up with the security, with the cautious, sometimes paranoid behavior…and you know what? It breaks my heart all over again.
And even though my heart breaks, I only wish for hope…
I hope that we learn how to love before we hate.
I hope that we learn from the past.
I hope we strive to be good, no matter what.
I hope that we don’t lose our faith in humanity.
I hope we can recognize the evil that occured that day, and while I validate the hatred, I hope we can move forward.
Lets be honest, the hatred and contempt of what has occured on that day will never be erased. For there were too many lives lost. Too many kisses never given. Too many bedtime stories never told. Too many happy endings never fulfilled. I will never be able to forgive the unfinished tomorrows, for those souls should be with us still, and there’s no amount of forgiveness that will be able to make their absence OK in my head.
But, perhaps that’s because I remember. Perhaps it’s because it’s still all too real for me, and, unlike my students, it’s not something in a textbook that I’m learning about.
It’s a memory.
It’s a nightmare.
But I don’t want my future children to have this nightmare.
I want my future children to grow up in a world where people don’t hate one another. I want my future children to grow up in a world where we listen before we judge. I want my future children to grow up in a world where security isn’t a main focus of importance for their schools, for airports, for our government.
I know this very Pollyanna of me. I get that. But can you really blame a girl for hoping? Cause that’s what this is…it’s hope.
I hope people learn how to be compassionate again. I hope people learn how to coexsit again. I hope people learn from the mistakes of their pasts. I hope people don’t let the pain of their past dictate the pleasure of their future.
I hope we find peace.
Peace.
Today I will visit the graves of those were lost. The ones we miss. The ones we hold so dear in our hearts.
Today I will visit the graves of those who I believe are our guardian angels…
…and I will remind them that I will Never Forget…
and then I will pray for peace.
Always Remember, Never Forget,