10 YEARS

[[[I wanted to share with you all my memories of 9/11 and what the last ten years has meant to me. Americans, we're all going to be inundated with memories, news stories and specials on it. Obviously, it's one of the most significant attacks on American soil, along with Pearl Harbor and Oklahoma City.]]]

I was home sick from school. The fever had woken me up around 5:00 AM EST, and I couldn't get back to sleep, so around 7:30 I turned on the TV for mindless background noise while I looked up information for a school paper. I don't remember what the project was for, but a bit before 9, the TV switched to a news broadcast at the same time the house phone rang.

My mom was calling from work, telling me to turn on the news. There was smoke coming out of a building in New York, something about an accident, a plane crash. I told mom I'd let her know what was going on if anything. I thought it was just one of the few accidents that occurs in the airline industry. Nothing to worry about. Just worry about the workers in the Tower and hope they got as many people out safely as they could.

At 9:03, I watched in real time along with millions of others as the second plane crashed into the Towers. I'll never forget the way the local anchor's voice rose as he narrated the flight pattern of the second plane, and the moment he realized that it was a deliberate attack. A woman on the set gasped at the moment of impact. It didn't seem real.

President Bush was visiting a Florida school, reading to the children. The local news cut to the video where the President was informed of the attacks. Reports that all airlines were being grounded was chilling. I live between an airport and air force base. The sounds of planes is as much a part of my day as breathing. The silence that September day was deafening. The theme parks in Orlando were being closed and evacuated for fears they may be a target. The images of the collision and tower collapsing played all day.

I don't remember if I went to school the next day; I think I did, but the first weeks were a blur of attempting to keep the normal routine, seeded with discussions of what happened and drills in case our school was attacked. For a while, anyone who thought the war in Iraq was a diversion or unnecessary would be bullied in some of my classes. Be called un-American, told to leave the country "if you don't like it", or threaned for not supporting the troops. Not supporting the war wasn't the same as not supporting the men and women of the armed forces, but for that time, there was only black and white. You're with us, or you're against us. 100% support or none.

It was a strange time to come of age. Much of my political views and opinions were formed during this time, and my opinions were generally those that were not favored. Pointing out that Saddam had no connection to that September day, and postulating that the war was a diversion from finding Osama was frequently derided during that time. When the initial shock and terror started to wear off, and Americans got back to the political fighting we're so fond of, that was the time to call for change, call for answers. Where was Osama? Why hadn't we found him yet? Why aren't we focused on finding him?

When Fahrenheit 9/11 came out, I went with a bunch of friends to see it. Our patriotic passions thus inflamed, our sophmoric teenage brains trying to parse meaning and truth from the bullshit we encountered everywhere. I went with a few friends to a rally to hear Michael Moore speak. I remember being swept up in the euphoria of the crowd, the cheers and derisions of Bush. Maybe that's what happened to the college kids during the Vietnam War. All I know is that I felt a sense of duty to my country, but I had no idea what that duty was.

The end of the Bush years was marked by college, breakdowns, and personal problems. I resigned myself to the idea that we would never find Osama, and turned my political ideology to social issues like gay marriage. I participated in Obama's campaign in Florida, arguing political points between McCain and Obama with classmates and family, standing on street corners with signs. On Election Day, I waited patiently to participate in my first election since coming of age, carefully selecting Barack Obama on my ballot. I then went to see my therapist and discussed how genuinely happy I felt that day, the hope I had for America to change, to see the country rise up from 9/11 as we had been doing year by year and become stronger.

When the results were in, I cried.

Even with a new commander in chief, I didn't think Osama would magically be found and brought to justice. I focused on my family and friends, on becoming a young woman with a voice, on a career. I continued campaigning for my political pet projects. I looked forward to the birth of my nephew.

Then, after Donald Trump raised the "issue" of Obama's birth certificate and the President put the kibosh on it, our President announced to the nation that Seal Team Six had assassinated Osama bin Laden. The man we had wanted for so long was dead. Again, seeing the President's speech, I cried. I watched footage of my countrymen crying and hugging, cheering and celebrating. Our boogeyman was dead. There was backlash, of course. Those who were disgusted so many people were celebrating a man's death. I forgive them for not understanding what it meant. What it means to survivors of the last ten years.


Tomorrow my nephew will be three months old. He will grow up without the specter that has haunted us for the last ten years. He will learn about September 11th in school, and will ask us what happened that day, what we did and felt. He will grow up in this economic recovery, and learn first-hand that America does change. That Americans, for all our fighting and political squabbling, are there to help raise each other up. He will see the heartache and hope, those who do when they are told they can't. He will see an America that rises to greatness, again.

I don't know what will befall America in the next ten years, but I have faith that we will overcome. I have faith.