Remembrance

It was one of the bluest skies I’ve ever seen.  A perfect early September day – warm, not hot, not humid.  It was one of those days where you find yourself wishing you could just keep on driving and see where the road takes you, instead of taking the exit that leads to work.

The perfection of the day was interrupted by a breaking news flash on the radio.  A plane had flown into the World Trade Center.  That was all. My thoughts immediately went to those little private planes, probably flown by an inexperienced pilot. The weather was certainly not to blame.

Pulled into the parking lot to start my day, selling books about the values of collectibles to gift shops – Beanie Babies; Boyd’s Bears, Precious Moments and the like. You know, stuff of groundbreaking importance like that.

The early morning banter of the office was wrong.  Somber. It was then I learned the plane was a jet and a gaping, flaming hole was in one of the towers. Turned on my computer to follow the news.  It seemed so surreal, how could a jet fly into the World Trade Center, especially on such a clear, perfect day?  Just a few moments passed when the second plane hit.

It felt like a sucker punch – what the hell was happening?  One plane could be explained as a freak accident, two planes? Not so much. Confusion, the seeds of panic, began to fill the office and the airwaves.   I imagine this feeling of fear and helplessness must have been what my parents felt when Pearl Harbor was attacked.

Of course you know the rest of the story – another plane hit the Pentagon, a fourth crashed in a field in PA.   A decade has passed yet, the memories are still clear.

I remember not sleeping all that great the night before – awakened by an overwhelming feeling of dread. Chalked it off to a panic attack, although I never had one prior.  Now I wonder if it was a bit prescient. All the ensuing panic attacks I’ve had since have presaged a terrible event in my life.

I remember watching people choosing to plummet to their deaths rather than burn alive. I remember watching in shock and horror as the buildings crumbled to the ground. I remember the apocalyptic images of stunned, ash covered people trying to make it across the Brooklyn Bridge.  I remember learning about the bravery of the passengers of flight 93. I remember the hope, despair and desperation  on the faces of those who came looking for their loved ones who worked in the towers.

I remember how quiet the world was in the days after.  Amazing how much noise planes make in daily life.  It was like hearing birds and insects really clearly for the first time.  The night sky was clearer, one could actually make out constellations instead of just Orion and a few prominent stars.

The American flag flew everywhere – and we all seemed closer as a nation.  Rudy Guiliani became the mayor of all of America, not just NY.  I wonder if we would have weathered this adversity as well with a different man at the helm?  He was our rock.

I remember the heartbreaking images of rescuers trying to find survivors first, then bodies.  As the stories continued to come out, I remember weeping and marveling at the heroism and selflessness of the NYC fire and police departments.  And that of ordinary citizens. The feeling of wanting to do something, anything, to help – to right this wrong. The pundits trying to make sense of who does this sort of thing and why?

The apprehension and pride felt when President Bush strode alone to the mound at Yankee Stadium to throw out the first pitch in game 3 of the World Series.  He looked so vulnerable and so invincible at the same time.  He and countless other heroes following that black day made us all defiantly proud to be Americans.  It was like the whole country was from NY, saying to the world “Is that all you got?”

So here we are 10 years later and as we mourn those we lost, I also mourn what we let slip away.  I don’t mind taking off my shoes and being x-rayed just so I can board a plane, but I do mind this: Instead of unity, we have discord.  Instead of leadership, we have elected officials sniping at each other like children fighting over a toy.  Instead of being proud to be Americans we despair at the direction the country is seemingly heading in.  Cops and firemen are laid off, not revered .

We could be, should be, better as a people – as a country since those attacks 10 years ago.The terrorists couldn’t beat us, but damn – we sure did a number on ourselves didn’t we?