Sunday, September 11, 2011

And I'm Proud to be an American



Like many Americans, I can remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I first got word of the planes hitting the World Trade Center towers on September 11, 2001. I was sitting in my Honors English class my first week of freshman year of high school. My teacher had just finished prayers when our loudspeaker crackled alive with an announcement.  "Attention, faculty and students. A plane has struck one of the World Trade Center towers in New York City. We don't have many details at this time, but please take a moment to say a prayer with your students for those who have been affected by this tragedy."

Confused, I looked at the girl next to me and asked, "What's the World Trade Center?" She looked at me blankly and shrugged her shoulders. Another girl overheard our conversation and explained to us how tall the buildings were. Naively, I said something like, "How did the pilot not see the building?"

At that moment, our loudspeaker sprung into action once more. "Attention, faculty and students. A second plane has hit the second World Trade Center tower and another plane has hit the Pentagon. A third plane has crashed in Pennsylvania." My mind went numb after these announcements and I tried to understand what this meant. After the principal finished the announcement, my teacher looked at us and said something about terrorist attacks. 

We didn't have cable in our classroom, so my teacher flicked on the radio and we all listened in silence to the panicked announcers describing the scenes in New York City and DC. We were all horrified as more details came to light and slowly realized that this day would change our lives forever.

I'll never forget the relief I felt when I got a hold of my mom during my lunch break. I had been stressing out all morning because my dad was in London at the time on business. She had been in contact with him and told me he was safe.  I couldn't talk to her long because I was borrowing my friend's cell phone, so I wrapped up the conversation and said, "Mom? I want you to know that I love you so much." Her voice cracked and she replied, "I love you too, Laura."

The rest of that day was torture. I was dying to know what was going on and had a hard time focusing in class. I ran off the school bus and immediately turned on CNN. I sat there in a stupor as gory images ran across our television screen and countless emotions flooded my body.  Fear, shock, devastation, helplessness, and anger. How could someone have done this to us? How could someone hate America that much?

When my mom finally got home from work, my brother, sister, and I ran out to the garage to meet her. All four of us embraced in a giant group hug and stood there quietly. It struck me at that moment that some families wouldn't be lucky enough that night to hug their loved ones.

After that day, I was desperate to show my support to the country and freedom I had always taken for granted. I cut up one of my softball medals, so that I could tie the red, white, and blue ribbon in my hair. At the time, my family lived in the middle of nowhere, yet I lit candles every night and put them on our front doorstep to remember those who were lost. The first night I did this, my parents asked me why I felt the need to do so.  I explained how I felt like this was one of the few things I could do to help and support America. They never questioned me again. In fact, I always found candles and matches waiting for me on our kitchen counter every night I performed this memorial.

10 Years Later...

When I woke up this morning, I decided to avoid all media coverage of the ten-year anniversary of the attacks, as I know all too well how the media can make a tough event even harder. I was excited to find the Eagles game on TV and settled in to watch. State Farm's 9/11 tribute commercial came on and I found myself covered in goose bumps with tears streaming down my face.

At that moment, I knew I needed to get out of my apartment. I decided to walk up to Central Park to my favorite spot in New York City, the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir. I often walk around the JKO Reservoir when something is troubling me. As I felt my sadness melting away, I found it ironic that the city that had been targeted and hurt deeply 10 years ago, was offering me comfort.

A view of Midtown from the JKO Reservoir on 9/11/11.


I heard a bagpipe in the distance, as I rounded the reservoir and faced the beautiful view of Midtown. September 11th will always be a devastating day in New York and America's history, yet it is also a day to celebrate the courage and strength of so many.

Say what you want about New Yorkers, but it takes a special kind of community to rebound from such a senseless tragedy. Even in the chaotic days after 9/11, New Yorkers displayed grit, determination, and strength and served as beacons of hope for the rest of the country. Yes, the terrorists were successful in taking the World Trade Center towers down, but they failed in their ultimate goal: crushing America's spirit. 

God Bless America today and always.

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