Today is “09/11”. Of course, my Facebook feed is littered with reminders that “we will not forget.” What does that mean, to “not forget”? Some of my social network is under the impression that we are using our memory to live in the past, to not move forward.
Last night, Kevin and I were talking about the date. I asked what makes today different from December 7, which we now barely give a passing glance. That was supposed to be “the day that would live in infamy,” remember?
The difference, at least in my mind, is twofold. America eventually became complacent again and war was always something that took place elsewhere. Pearl Harbor was not really on the mainland, and September 11 was the first time we were attacked in the heart of our own land.
But also, it represented the first time that we personally understood the use of weapons in which people were inside the weapon–and the people were not just the suicide bombers. It is one thing for a suicide bomber to blow up something. It kills innocent bystanders, and that is tragic in itself. But for a person to take a plane full of innocent bystanders and use it as a weapon of mass destruction… That is unimaginable, and it happened here. That is something we cannot pprocess. And still we try.
Every year, I write something on some forum or other about where I was at that time… I was in a nursery, holding a baby. Every year, that memory takes on a different meaning for me.
Kevin and I have had numerous discussions lately about our perception that our society has become disconnected and fearful. Today I find myself remembering holding that baby when all I wanted was to go home and bury myself in my aloneness and try to understand what was happening. I was forced to connect–in fact, to connect with the most innocent around me in a way that disconnected me from my own fear and forced me to give all of my calm and all of my peace to her. Did I have any calm or any peace to give? It is amazing what comes welling up from deep within when a little baby needs it!
One month later, I flew to Newark, NJ, for training with a new dog guide. I did not tell my mother how afraid I was as we sat at the Indianapolis airport. In my mind, Newark had become one of the most dangerous places to fly in or out of. I wished there was any other way to get there.
My fear mounted a hundred times when I heard someone speaking a language I did not recognize, talking on a cell phone and laughing. Having heard numerous reports about cell phone use prior to the flights on September 11, I drew all kinds of unfriendly conclusions.
I was deeply ashamed of myself. What if he was just a person calling his wife to say “I love you,” and making happy small talk before his flight? What if he didn’t understand my language and was afraid of me when I laughed?
There was only one way around it, especially when I learned that we were seated next to each other on the flight. I spoke to him.
The language he spoke was Nigerian, and he was a professional studying in the United States in preparation to return home and assist his country in an area of critical need. We enjoyed the flight; and I disembarked convicted of one thing. The only cure for our society’s terror is to reach out rather than pull ourselves further in. Living in fear does nothing to honor the memory of those lost in or as a result of the attacks on September 11, 2001. I am not convinced that we have made our airways or our soil safer. We have certainly created a society where children grow up unable to play outdoors safely; and that is a detriment to their development. Is that how we remember the adults who died protecting our freedoms? By making ourselves afraid to use those freedoms? I’m not sure that is what any of those people died for.
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