Reflections on September 11

Or, proof that I'm a heartless gorgon.

~*~

To tell you the truth, I didn't even realize that tomorrow was Sept. 11th until about three minutes ago. Everyone says that they can remember where they were when they first heard about it. I was in the car with my mom, zooming up the road to the top of the hill to catch my bus (nearly late, like usual). I wasn't really listening to the radio, but my mom stopped and said, "Katelyn, we've been bombed!" It didn't really strike a chord in me. What does that mean? I knew that. People were dying, things were going to change. But what did that mean to me, my seventh grade self? Not much.

I think for my mom, it brought back memories of Vietnam, Korea, and other things. Or at least, stories of them. Her dad (rest in peace) was a retired marine. Plus she was in her early forties and had a few decades more of awareness and experience than I. All I really understood was that something big was happening on the east coast where all the important things are, and that today was going to be special.

When I got to school, all the kids were running around. Some were crying, a few were skipping around saying "we've been bombed! We've been bombed!". Mostly, though, people were talking, a bit scared and no one knew what was going to happen next. I had one friend with family working in NY. My first class was algebra (with the big scary ninth graders, none of my friends would ever accompany me down that hall), and Mrs. Tarnowski had the tv on, just like all the other teachers. By that time, the planes had all hit and people were trying to make sense of things. It was about 7:30 in the morning, so about 10:30 east coast time. We heard about the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and the Terrorists. I steeled myself into my "all right, so what are we going to do about it?" mind set. Panic never solved anything.

Over the next few days I saw Flags everywhere. The country music station that my mom and bus driver always listened to came out with patriotic songs. People who before blasphemed in the name of America were suddenly up in arms to defend her. It was a weird time. All of it was surreal. It wasn't really happening to me. Just to my country. Other people a few thousand miles away. Nobody I knew was hurt.

Over the years the new wave of patriotism slowly decreased. People got back to their lives. The world kept turning. Things went back to normal. Back home, on the west coast, I would venture that things are far closer to normal than they are on the east coast. I feel like one of the only things stopping most people from adding Sept. 11th jokes to the cavalcade of dead baby, racist, hellen keller, disgustingly off color jokes is respect for the fact that the east coast isn't as far along in the stages of grief. I've said it a million times, but the west coast and east coast are more like sisters than one nation. Yes, we're all part of the same American family. But there's a difference.

What really cemented the difference for me was a realization I had a few weeks ago. I felt safe on the west coast. What terrorist would be concerned with knocking out a few salmon, trees and mountains? The only time I ever felt any fear was when North Korea was bragging about missle capabilities, and I saw a map showing their presumed range. Portland, OR was definitely within it. For the first time I felt like if some guy in North Korea really felt like it, I'd be dead, along with my family and friends. And it seemed like, at the time, DC wasn't doing anything about it. But that passed, and so did the fear. That is, until I realized that I live in much closer proximity to places that terrorists really WOULD like to get their hands on, (or at least, throw some explosives at) for most of the year now. Welcome to the East Coast. I'm not to say that I'm living in fear, quite the contrary. But just that I have a...heightened sense... of the reality of things.

When I went to NY last year, I got to see Ground Zero. How weird it was, to think that so many people lost their lives there, that a huge structure had once stood in what's now a hole.

I guess for me, Sept. 11 never really affected me personally. Maybe that makes me cold and unfeeling, maybe that makes sense to some of you. There's no way I can possibly empathize. But I do still respect what it means for so many people, especially for so many of my friends here at school. Back home people openly discuss it, like a Pearl Harbor. Here, you don't bring it up unless you want to see people's eyes glaze over and bring back nightmarish memories. For myself, it comes down to respecting and sympathizing with my peers and fellow Americans, and doing my best to help commemorate the lives of those who died. Because even though I can't feel each one's specific absense, I can still remember them. I don't think you need anything more than the fact that they were innocent victims of a horrible terrorist attack to do that. I hope it's enough.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
And let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace.
Amen.