This is an exciting day for my blog - this is the first Guest Entry that I've had. This is an entry about today, September 11th. This is written by my Bestie, Ms. Anna Demars. I'm honored to have her write a piece and have me post it on my site. Enjoy...
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| May 1999, Anna's 8th grade class trip to NYC |
“Where were you on September 11?” it’s a question that has been asked thousands, millions of times even, becoming a part of our national vocabulary. But each answer from each citizen varies, interwoven with individual emotions, fears and facts. I remember where I was: 10th grade, a study hall free period. Honestly, I didn’t think much of it. Before that fateful day, the word ’terrorism’ was not in my vocabulary, I’d never consciously heard it before. But that day I heard it for the first time. As we watched the screens, I kept scanning teachers’ faces, looking to them for how I should feel. Are we, here in upstate NY in danger? Do I know anyone who works in the Trade Towers? I had family in Manhattan, are they safe? Will these ‘terrorists’ continue to bomb each major metropolis until the death toll rises to millions? And, above all, who would hate us so much?
As I transferred to my next class, I anxiously awaited my friend who was in Social Studies, and as the door swung open, releasing the still-unknowing students and teacher, I was the first to exclaim that we had been attacked. The teacher looked to me disapprovingly, as I had been known to be something of a trouble-maker before. I assured her we were in fact under attack, borrowing the phrase Id just heard uttered by every news anchor as they reported to the public, still unaware of the full weight. She gave me a look that betrayed at once her disapproval of my disruption, but something else as well; underneath her furrowed brow was the unmistakable look of another emotion: fear. As unimaginable as what I was telling her seemed, she was afraid I could be telling the truth. As she, my friend and myself made it to the nearest classroom with a tv, she knew I had been telling the truth. Plumes of black smoke now poured from the gaping hole in the towers. I jokingly declared I knew who could’ve done this- China. This statement was reflective of both my naiveté and a life left behind that day: one in which I was blissfully unaware of the degree of hatred capable in human beings. My teacher answered back, saying it had to be a Middle Eastern influence. I was silent. Why? I wondered.
The day went on with an electric charge, some students cried, not knowing where their family members who lived/worked in the city were, others speculated on what would come next, but classes resumed. For me, what came after 9/11 was what made me realize the profundity of what had happened. The amount of destruction, loss of lives and carnage seemed insurmountable. But out of the wreckage came.. hope. And a newfound sense of freedom. Id not been fully aware of my freedom, tangible freedom, before this event. Id only sung the word while reciting national anthem and parroting why it was one of my favorite things about this country in which I lived. But now I saw. They hate because we are free. They hate because in the face of such total destruction, both human and man-made, we stood taller than ever before. Donald Rumsfeld, Secretary of Defense at the time, remarked terrorism isn’t about killing people or destroying buildings. Terrorism operates out of a change in behavior, one in which we behave differently than we did before, because we were afraid.
America was not afraid after 9/11. Photo after photo of men and women of all shades of the spectrum and every creed assisted one another while the buildings burned and debris fell. The impossibly brave firemen and police gathered with their units and ladders, asserted that this could potentially be their last day on earth, said a prayer, and walked in, accepting their fate. I recall in the days and weeks after the Red Cross turning volunteers away. Citizens now joined the FDNY and NYPD in canvassing the rubble, searching for bodies, and after it became clear there were no more survivors, body parts. The nation stood united in a way it had never been before, at least in my (albeit short) lifetime. I felt proud in a real way, being a citizen of a nation like this one. ‘Proud to be an American’ took on a profundity I had not previously known. From the ground to the skies that day reverberated what our nation’s citizens were capable of: The brave souls of United flight 93, after speaking with loved ones a final time, took down what was to be the 3rd aerial attack on our nation. The terrorists were not successful in crashing United 93 into the Capitol, and, even though the others against the Pentagon and Trade Towers were carried out, they, too, were unsuccessful. We showed from the rural Shankesvillle, PA to the sprawling metropolis of downtown Manhattan and throughout the country, what we were capable of.
We watched, horrified at first. Then we cried. Then we got angry. But then, we united. Out of the ashes certain things were deemed immaterial: Democrat, Republican, black, white, Hispanic, Asian. Our individual identities were momentarily erased, and we all something else: Americans. Out of the rubble emerged a new America, a stronger, infinitely more united America.
This is my America.
I am an American.
And they cannot take that away.
As I transferred to my next class, I anxiously awaited my friend who was in Social Studies, and as the door swung open, releasing the still-unknowing students and teacher, I was the first to exclaim that we had been attacked. The teacher looked to me disapprovingly, as I had been known to be something of a trouble-maker before. I assured her we were in fact under attack, borrowing the phrase Id just heard uttered by every news anchor as they reported to the public, still unaware of the full weight. She gave me a look that betrayed at once her disapproval of my disruption, but something else as well; underneath her furrowed brow was the unmistakable look of another emotion: fear. As unimaginable as what I was telling her seemed, she was afraid I could be telling the truth. As she, my friend and myself made it to the nearest classroom with a tv, she knew I had been telling the truth. Plumes of black smoke now poured from the gaping hole in the towers. I jokingly declared I knew who could’ve done this- China. This statement was reflective of both my naiveté and a life left behind that day: one in which I was blissfully unaware of the degree of hatred capable in human beings. My teacher answered back, saying it had to be a Middle Eastern influence. I was silent. Why? I wondered.
The day went on with an electric charge, some students cried, not knowing where their family members who lived/worked in the city were, others speculated on what would come next, but classes resumed. For me, what came after 9/11 was what made me realize the profundity of what had happened. The amount of destruction, loss of lives and carnage seemed insurmountable. But out of the wreckage came.. hope. And a newfound sense of freedom. Id not been fully aware of my freedom, tangible freedom, before this event. Id only sung the word while reciting national anthem and parroting why it was one of my favorite things about this country in which I lived. But now I saw. They hate because we are free. They hate because in the face of such total destruction, both human and man-made, we stood taller than ever before. Donald Rumsfeld, Secretary of Defense at the time, remarked terrorism isn’t about killing people or destroying buildings. Terrorism operates out of a change in behavior, one in which we behave differently than we did before, because we were afraid.
America was not afraid after 9/11. Photo after photo of men and women of all shades of the spectrum and every creed assisted one another while the buildings burned and debris fell. The impossibly brave firemen and police gathered with their units and ladders, asserted that this could potentially be their last day on earth, said a prayer, and walked in, accepting their fate. I recall in the days and weeks after the Red Cross turning volunteers away. Citizens now joined the FDNY and NYPD in canvassing the rubble, searching for bodies, and after it became clear there were no more survivors, body parts. The nation stood united in a way it had never been before, at least in my (albeit short) lifetime. I felt proud in a real way, being a citizen of a nation like this one. ‘Proud to be an American’ took on a profundity I had not previously known. From the ground to the skies that day reverberated what our nation’s citizens were capable of: The brave souls of United flight 93, after speaking with loved ones a final time, took down what was to be the 3rd aerial attack on our nation. The terrorists were not successful in crashing United 93 into the Capitol, and, even though the others against the Pentagon and Trade Towers were carried out, they, too, were unsuccessful. We showed from the rural Shankesvillle, PA to the sprawling metropolis of downtown Manhattan and throughout the country, what we were capable of.
We watched, horrified at first. Then we cried. Then we got angry. But then, we united. Out of the ashes certain things were deemed immaterial: Democrat, Republican, black, white, Hispanic, Asian. Our individual identities were momentarily erased, and we all something else: Americans. Out of the rubble emerged a new America, a stronger, infinitely more united America.
This is my America.
I am an American.
And they cannot take that away.
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| The view from the top of the World Trade Center. May, 1999 |
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| The view from the top of the World Trade Center. May, 1999 |
“America will never run. And we will always be grateful that liberty has such brave defenders.”
-President George W. Bush
Great article! I think all of us who are old enough will have the memory of where we were when we heard the news. I was a freshman in college and being away from home for the first time and having something like that happen was so scary. I tried to call home, but being so close to the city, all the phone lines were busy. I remember watching the smoke rise from the buildings from across the river.
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