9/11

by Keith Yancy

The day is here again.

On this day, 10 years after the surreal tragedy of 9/11, I will take time to remember.

I will remember how, in our sadness and horror, we saw humanity at its best — after we saw it at it’s worst.

I will remember the thousands that died, some heroically, some anonymously, all tragically.

I will remember the families forever scarred by the fanaticism of misguided and deluded conspirators.

I will remember the bravery and selflessness of all the heroes in New York, then the heroes in America, then the heroes of those around the world who did so much to try to help and save lives.

I will remember the solemn pride of watching a nation come together, setting aside their differences, to show the world that we are a unified, albeit imperfect, nation.

I will remember all the men and women who have sacrificed their safety, their health, and even their lives to protect us since that day.

I will remember the people and nations around the world who supported America during and after the tragedy, and continue to support our nation today.

I will remember how fortunate Americans are — despite that day — to live in a nation where we can stand together when tragedy strikes, setting aside differences in religion, race, and ideology to face our enemies.

I will remember that fanaticism knows no limits, and can twist any religion to suit its purposes.

I will remember that, when others have a different ethnic background or tradition, such differences do not automatically make them an enemy or un-American. 

I will remember, without needing to listen to cockpit recordings, video replays, or dramatized re-enactments of that day… a day that has seared its imprint forever in my memory.

I will remember that such tragic events can happen at any time, without warning, without cause… and that such events succeed only when they create blind hatred and prejudice.

I will remember how that day changed our lives, our nation, and our world.  Instantly and irrevocably.

I will remember, because I cannot — and will not — forget.

Until next time… 😦

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9/11… A Day Remembered

by Keith Yancy

Certain memories are indelibly seared into my brain.  My wedding day.  The faces of my three daughters the moment I witnessed their birth.  The day the space shuttle Challenger exploded.

And, of course, 9/11.

Where I was and what I was doing wasn’t particularly remarkable, yet I can recall it with razor-sharp clarity.  It was a cool morning, sunny, and I was getting out of my car in the parking lot at work.  I was running late, and I had parked in the shade of the building, it’s shadow extending to the west across the parking lot.  I remember pausing — after I had turned off the car, but before the radio shut off — to hear about a plane hitting the World Trade Center tower.  At the time, no one was sure of the size of the plane, and initial speculation was that it was a small plane.  I distinctly remember thinking that some pilot must have had some astoundingly bad skills to hit a tower that large.

But by the time I had walked into work and proceeded to my office — a two-minute walk — the news reports were already changing.  For the worse.  Over the course of the next 10 minutes, people were beginning to realize, via hallway conversations and casual remarks over morning coffee — that something far more sinister was going on.  Radios turned on.  People started gathering in small groups.  Someone remembered that we could get the television working in the main conference room, and turned it on.

And, just as the morning began to turn toward the surreal, we watched as the second plane hit the second tower.  At that precise moment, our collective consciousness irrevocably changed.  Everyone realized — in a singular horrific moment — that this was no longer an accident, this was no longer a typical tragic plane crash.

I don’t remember anyone thinking that it was war, but I do remember the feeling of fear creeping into our lives that morning.  As the news of the Pentagon crash came through, followed by various (many erroneous) accounts of renegade planes in the sky, it seemed like everyone was on the same learning curve: we were in danger, we were confused, and — most frightening of all, we were helpless to stop it.

As I think back on the events of 9/11, and remember all the pain and sacrifice that resulted from that fateful day, I can’t help feeling that, for my “Gen X – and later” generation, at least, the last illusion of our national invincibility was swept away.   We suddenly were as vulnerable as any other country.  Our citizens — not just our soldiers and sailors, but ordinary American men, women and children — were suddenly within reach of our enemies.  Enemies we couldn’t readily see, locate, or even confront.  Enemies that identified our mere existence as the provocation for their attacks and hatred.

And though I am grateful for all the military successes and sacrifices made in the years after 9/11, that automatic, splendid sense of security I (and others) with which we were raised can never be restored.  No military success, no defeated enemy, can ever give back what they took from us.  In a way, our national “swagger” — long loathed around the world — is gone forever.  And while other nations may grimly welcome Americans to an international reality of watchful vigilance, it’s a reality I’d rather not have to accept.  More importantly, it’s a reality I wish my children didn’t have to grow up with.  

I know that metal detectors, long lines at security stations, national color codes, and a host of other realities are now part of our lives.  I accept them, value them, understand them.  But I can’t say I like them.  I still wish I could greet family and friends at the gate in the airport, or wait for them in the terminal restaurant, or not have to consider the issue of a mosque located at Ground Zero.  In a sense, I wish America hadn’t been forced to “grow up” by being scarred by fire, destruction and death in our cities and streets.

Like most people, I’ll never forget the events of that long day nine years ago, the day that forever replaced our collective false sense of security with an ever-present, latent fear.  A morning that exchanged our sleepy naivete with grim vigilance.   A long, terrible three hours that took from us — American citizens everywhere — our feeling of unassailability and gave us the terrible knowledge of our own vulnerability.

That’s what 9/11 means to me.  A day of remembrance of what was before, sadness for what occurred, and honor and respect for the lives lost and sacrifices made since.  The day our nation was indelibly marked by evil, and the resilience of its people to do what it does better than any nation on Earth: fight back, keep going, endure.  A sad day, but a day that makes me proud to be an American — albeit an American forever different from what I was before.

Until next time… : |