Always Remember

From a 'Proud American' to a 'Fierce Patriot'

What Older Generations Have Been Trying to Tell Us All Along, but We Were Forced to Learn from Experience

Publish Date: 09/10/2011

I used to 'roll my eyes' whenever older generations talked about how everyone could remember exactly what they were doing when a national tragedy struck. In my grandparents' generation it was the attack on Pearl Harbor that catapulted us into WWII. In my parents' generation is was the Kennedy assassination.
For my generation is was 9/11/2001.

It was a normal day.

I was getting ready for work. The kids were getting ready for school. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until my husband called.

He leaves for work quite early in the mornings, so he was already at work when he called. He said, "Turn on the TV. Now."

I asked him what channel? He said, "It doesn't matter."

I walked into the living room and turned it on.

And found the world changed.

I had just barely begun to process what I was seeing, what they were saying, and what it meant when the south tower collapsed.

Live.

It was so surreal. My mind was thinking, 'that can't be real. It looks just like something you'd see in the movies, or on a planned demolition. How can it go straight down like that?' Simultaneously, my heart was twisting and tearing apart because I knew... I KNEW ... I was witnessing the deaths of thousands.

I remember grabbing the doorjamb for support as I cried out and tears coursed down my face. I kept saying aloud, "Oh please, God! Let them all be out of the building!!! Oh! They can't all have gotten out, yet!!!" My young daughter, only 7 at the time, came in and wanted to know why I was crying. "What's wrong, Mommy?" she asked.

I wasn't sure how to tell her what was wrong, or what it would mean to our country. I just knew I didn't want her seeing what I was seeing. She was so young. So innocent. I remember telling her I was sad that a lot of people had died. I also hugged her tight and told her that everything would be alright and she should go finish getting ready for school. Then I sent her firmly out of the room.

But I kept watching.

At some point I forced myself to turn off the TV and get out the door for work. I am an art teacher, working part time. When we got to the school, I walked around in a daze. The surreal feeling intensified for me because the school was just too quiet. Too normal. My mind was screaming and ripping itself apart over the images that were burned into my brain. How could anything be normal again?

Of course, things weren't normal. All of the teachers knew what had happened and were robotically going about their routines in a state of shock. The administration made the quick decision to not allow live news coverage in the elementary school classrooms. I do think that was for the best. We aren't talking about teenaged students here. These were very young children who couldn't possibly process what was going on. The school library was closed down for the day and the TV there was left running so that the adults in the building could stop in as often as possible and stay informed.

I didn't realize until I got home later that day that my husband was spared the trauma of seeing the buildings collapse live. He was listening on the radio when he called me. Of course, we all watched the events of that morning unfold hundreds of times afterwards, in a never ending loop of pain. But that first moment? Of realizing I was witnessing mass murder AS IT WAS HAPPENING? I can't even begin to describe it. It will never leave me.

I will never forget.

Do you remember how silent the skies were that day? When every flight was grounded? You never realize the background noise of planes on approach to the airport until there are no planes on approach.

Do you remember the pride you felt in the heroes of Flight 93? How brave and terrified they must have been! How they made an impossible choice that changed the tone of everything? They were Americans, fighting back!

Do you remember how much we honored firefighters, police men, and even the thousands of construction workers and volunteers who risked their lives in the aftermath?

Do you remember how our country came together? We were so UNITED! It no longer mattered what your religious or political credo was. We were all American. Every American flag was out, lining the streets, hanging from homes, flying from cars.

Do you remember how full the church congregations were? Everyone turning to their faith to see them through those dark times.

In the weeks and months following that horrific day we became the nation we were meant to be. Strong, caring, compassionate...

... united.

My brothers went to war. Jeff, a Naval officer, served several tours of duty to Iraq and Afghanistan. He came back with amazing stories... and bullet holes in his plane. Peder, an Army Special Forces officer, also served several tours ... including a lot of time on the ground in Baghdad. His stories were also incredible, though it was the stories that he didn't tell that made my heart ache for him. Anyone who is ignorant enough to ask a veteran if he killed anyone in the line of duty should be shunned right out of the conversation. I still don't know the answer to that question, and I'll never ask it.

I was blessed that they both came back home. It is enough for me.

Four years ago, my oldest joined the military. He is a Marine. I have never felt so proud as I did on the day I attended his basic training graduation at MCRD, San Diego. I still have the 'Service Flag' hanging proudly in the front window for him. The 'Service Flag', or 'Blue Star Flag', is a symbol of a family's sacrifice when an immediate family member is in active service during a time of war. If that family member should be killed in the line of duty, a gold star would replace the blue star. The practice of hanging a 'Service Flag' dates back to WWI. I am proud to display it, though I will be glad to take it down when we are officially at peace. 

It is 10 years after the tragic events that we commemorate today. Ten years.

Many have forgotten. Or become complacent. They have gone back to their normal lives. There is bickering. There is dissent. There is arguing and back stabbing and doubt even about what this war is really about. Or that it even was a terrorist attack.

Shame on them.

Always remember what we lost that day.

Never forget what your freedom costs.

How has 9/11 changed me? I will forever be a fierce patriot. I am an American who knows it is the duty of every citizen to stand and defend our sovereign soil. I was proud of my military family before, but I am honored by them now. I stand with previous generations who have faced the refiner's fire...

... and I will never forget.