Where Were You?

I was in the car pulling up to school for orchestra practice, around 9 am NYC time. I remember hearing what had happened and not even knowing where the World Trade Center really was. When the bell rang and we all went to class, we were immediately put on lockdown and were forbidden to turn on the TVs. Around 9:00 local time the principal came on the intercom and told us the details of what had happened. At lunch, a couple teachers turned on the TV. I caught only a glimpse of the smoking towers before we resumed class. When I got home at about three, I immediately went downstairs and turned on the TV. I remember sitting there, paralyzed, as I watched the footage of the planes hitting the towers, the billowing smoke, the collapse, a smoking gash of rubble in a field in Pennsylvania. I was haunted by images of empty malls, businesses, and airports, and reflected in the silence of the air above my home.

***

For the first time since 2002, I visited The Healing Field. My mother and I woke up this morning, got in the car, and drove to the usually empty field just south of Sandy City Hall. According to the program the sponsors were handing out, the Sandy city Healing Field was the first of its kind in the entire nation. Upon turning onto 10000 South, I caught a glimpse of the far portion of the field. I was overwhelmed with the sight of hundreds of flags flapping in the cool September breeze.

I am not a fanatic patriot. I criticize my government and leaders for making stupid or irresponsible decisions.  But I vote. I have a voice. And while I don't support the war, I respect our soldiers on the front lines and here at home working to maintain what we are so lucky to have. I respect the flag of my country and every human being who has given their life in some way or another to keep it flying. Because if we go back 200 years, the original ideals and goals of the fathers of The United States of America had it right. Government by the people, for the people. All men created equal. Freedom of speech, of religion.

Whether or not these things have faded in and out of practice during the course of time, what this country was built upon and created for is what I take the most pride in. And the thousands of lives needlessly ended on September 11, 2001 represent the very best in courage, selflessness, and unwavering compassion.

The sight of nearly 3,000 American flags in one place is tremendously moving. Attached to each flagpole is a small laminated card with a name, location, age, and short biography or memory of each victim. We wandered through the field for more than an hour, reading the names and stories of people on the 95th floor of the North Tower, first responder firefighters, and heroes on board flight 93. As the flags flew in the wind, it was almost impossible not to be touched by canvas. And for a moment there, I wondered if, in some way, the caresses of the flags, the way they wrapped around us, were somehow indicative of that person's spirit reaching out to those of us who remember them. I know it sounds silly, especially since I struggle to really believe in spirits, souls, or angels, but sometimes I have those moments of warmth, those shivers that tell you something, someone else, is there. And when the sun breaks through the morning clouds, just in that spot where you are, brightens the thousands of stars and stripes, and warms you ever so slightly, it's hard to believe there isn't something more.

A lot has happened in the 10 years since the attacks. I, and so many of my generation have grown up in a world post 9-11. And there are those who have been born directly into the world in this state. It's hard to remember how things were before then. I have some foggy memories of being able to walk the terminals at the airport, passing time before going directly to the gate to pick up a relative. Recollections of a time when my country wasn't fighting its' longest war in history.

I know it sounds redundant, but we really will NEVER forget.