When the idea for this blog was coming together in my mind this summer in August, I mapped out the dates of all of the Sundays – and of course, the second Sunday was 9/11. Clever! I can write about 9/11 on 9/11 – as if no one else would be talking about it that day and in the days and weeks before.
So I was trying to think of a hook – of an angle that would not just be a story of my 9/11 story – but it would be about something bigger with a touch to 9/11. Maybe it would make readers forget, then remember. What a writing trick that would be!
I thought of a few different angles, and what I remembered on that fateful day. Interesting images came up.
Image one: sitting outside of a meeting I was supposed to be at in my car, listening on the radio as events unfolded and the towers started to collapse. Starting the engine and going not home, not back to pick up my kid at daycare, but to the office. I didn't want to be alone, I wanted to be among people.
Image two: walking into work, where our receptionist at the time – who I thought was always a bit strange – said, “None of us should be here right now. We should all be home.”
Image three: a quick inventory of where all of my loved ones were – who was home? Who was away? Calling Erika to make sure she knew not to get on the plane. Calling my sister Marianne in Vegas (on her honeymoon!) to make sure she was okay.
Image four: writing a colleague Laura an email that morning, writing something like, “this will be a day we remember forever: September 11th, 2001.” then hitting send and thinking “...I think it will be a day we remember? Will it? What just happened here really??”
Image five: On the phone to Matt, insisting that he find a TV and start watching – his resistance, “I'm working.” His amazement later on when he called back.
Image six: flags. Everywhere Everywhere. Everywhere.
Image seven: the following Sunday – church was packed. Every church and place of worship was packed.
I could go on. As I know you could.
I began to write the blog entry, a retelling of my events of the day. And as I did, I tried to remember the timing. “Okay, I first heard about it when the Pentagon had been hit – but was that before or after the towers? And what about the airplane with the passengers?” I thought, “There must be some sort of timeline out there online and I could line up my experience with the real events of the day.” And indeed there was. And I began to read.
In the days and weeks after 9/11, I was one of those who, while filled with great patriotism and love for my country, felt frustrated by the vast numbers of Americans who were shocked and stunned by this blatant form of aggression against the US. “Don't you know that a lot of the world thinks we're a bunch of assholes?! Are you seriously surprised by this?” I thought. And I was frustrated by the outpouring of attention, resources, time and money to 9/11, when there was tragedy and strife going on all around the country all the time. My work in the non-profit sector kept me close to this tragedy and strife every day. Recently, when the US forces found bin Laden, executed him, and dumped his body in the ocean, I felt like, “Great. Just great. Let's just stir the pot again, now who knows what will happen next?”
Some pangs of guilt about this lack of compassion for victims of 9/11 and their families emerged at different times. Mostly, in being with friends from the New York area. A friend from Brooklyn acted as if the tragedy occurred in her backyard. But of course once I visited Ground Zero and then walked across the Brooklyn Bridge I realized it was in her backyard. It was like everyone I knew from the east coast area knew someone who was right there when it happened, or a brother of someone, or a friend of someone they knew. Of course for people living there every victim was a brother of someone or a friend of someone they knew.
And last night, when I read through the timeline of events I quickly forgot my own experience of the day. I found myself so deeply, deeply sad. The flight attendant from the first crash saying, “Something is wrong, we are in a rapid descent...we are flying low. We are flying very, very low. We are flying way too low...Oh my god we are way too low.” The son calling his father from the second plane, “It's getting bad, Dad...A stewardess was stabbed...I think we are going down. I think they intend to go to Chicago or someplace and fly into a building. Don't worry, Dad. If it happens, it'll be very fast. My God, my god.”
My heart just breaks. It just breaks truly – for all of those innocent lives lost. All of those people just boarding a plane in the morning – just people. All of those people just sitting at their desks, working through another morning. All of those New Yorkers, jaywalking around. All of those passengers – realizing what was going on – what panic they must have felt. What fear must have rolled through them.
Today, for me, will not be about the politics of 9/11 or about the failed foreign policy of our country and subsequent ramifications. Today, my family gathers with our larger families to celebrate my son's birthday – and because we are gathering on this day, it will be that much more powerful. Today, for me, will be about gratitude for my loved ones, that we have each other – that – thank God, it was not us this time.
And my heart will go out – to all of the families and loved ones of the victims of this horrible tragedy. Because it was a horrible, horrible tragedy. And if it was my sister or my son, I think I might be glad about bin Laden's death as well.
I will think of these victims and their families, and I will embrace them from afar and simply say, “I am sorry. I am so, so, sorry.”
