Getting my butt out of bed early enough to exercise is a major task for me. In fact, rising from bed a minute earlier than absolutely necessary is a strain on my conscience and overall values. Yet, for some unexplainable reason, I found myself walking out the front door and heading for the newly constructed Florida Tech gym a whole two hours before my first class of the day. I plugged the auxiliary cable into my mp3 player and spent the two-cigarette drive to school rocking out to My Hotel Year. The usual spread of semi-attractive/unattractive girls and under-committed foreign dudes greeted me as I made my way to the treadmill. But it wasn't until I had set my run cycle and stuffed in my ear buds that I realized something was off.
Machine after machine was abandoned, their recent occupants beginning to gather along the second story rail. Then the runners to either side of me left their treadmills without bothering to turn them off. They walked to the railing and the gathering crowd, and I followed their stares to the several TV screens that hovered in a long row over the room. Every one of them was tuned to a different news station. Every one of them showed the same image.
Smoke billowed from the North Tower. Reporters stated that a plane had crashed, a small twin-engine that soon turned out to be a commercial aircraft. They were confused, the people they interviewed were confused, the people around me were confused. I was confused. I remember standing under the TV's alongside everyone else without a clue as to how I'd gotten there.
The cameras zoomed to the tower as the reporters speculated on what had happened, and they interviewed more New Yorkers on the street. I watched one woman as she gave her account of what had happened, and then in mid-sentence, her eyes grew wide and she said another one hit. The cameras panned over and down as the fireball took out the middle of the South Tower.
When those around me began to gasp, I realized I had been holding my breath. A girl standing beside me that I'd never met before grabbed my hand and began to cry. We stood there together for a long time.
I don't remember leaving, but I do remember getting in my truck and crying. I cried all the way home, in total silence, still confused, not yet angry. In retrospect, I'm not sure there was much anger on that day. Anger came after, when we had someone to be angry at. For most of us, on that day, when the towers fell, there was only the person standing next to you. It didn't matter who they were or where they were from. There were no hyphens on that day. No African-Americans, no Hispanic-Americans, no Asian-Americans, no German-Italian-English-Irish-Jewish-Americans. There were only Americans. Americans looking to others for comfort, for help. And Americans giving comfort and aid to those that needed it. On that day we were a nation unified. We were neighbors to complete strangers.
Every year on this day I remember that girl that took my hand. I can't remember what she looked like, I don't know her name, I never even spoke to her, but I remember needing her touch as much as she needed mine. I remember the fallen that needed saving and the heroes that gave their lives to save them.
I look back on September 11, 2001, and I remember how much I love my country.
This is beautiful, Ryan. I feel the same about that day. I had a really difficult time teaching my students about it today. I think what made it so difficult is that these kiddos weren't alive to experience it. First hand. That moment when our security was shaken. I feel a certain sense of pride handing over that piece of history from an "I've been there, done that" perspective (much like our elders do with other pieces of history). It is difficult to portray what we all felt on that day to those who did not (thank God) experience it. I, too, feel a greater sense of pride on this day...and that is saying a lot, because I am full of pride every day.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written...a day without hyphens...simply AMERICANS.
I was working alone in my dad's office that morning when i heard on the radio that a plane flew into one of the World Trade Towers, then my mom called and told me to turn the tv on. I remember thinking, "oh my gosh, who the heck flies a plane into a building, can't they see this huge building in front of them?" I had no idea what was going on until i turned the tv on and saw the second plane hit tower #2. Sitting there alone I cried for what felt like hours. I remember wanting to go home so i could be next to someone but I couldnt take my eyes off the tv screen. I cried a lot that day. 9-11-2001 is the day that really showed me just how much this country needs to bring God back into our lives, schools, government, etc. There is so much hate in this world and I believe God is the only answer.
ReplyDeleteVery nicely said. I too remember what I was doing that day. I don't think I'll ever forget. I was in school over in Orlando and when I woke up that morning to get ready for the day, I got a phone call from home. "Did you hear about the plane crash?" my mom said. I hadn't, so I turned on the TV and there it was. I was riveted to the screen, numb.
ReplyDeleteI went to class that day and was in a bit of a daze. The student center had a large screen set up in the middle and there were tons of people gathered around watching what happened. It was surreal...
What a beautiful piece, Ryan. You made me cry, and I am still crying typing this. Thank you for sharing this. I love the way you write and evoke emotions from within me.
ReplyDelete