glitter_n_gore (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
glitter_n_gore) wrote2011-09-11 11:15 pm
glitter_n_gore) wrote2011-09-11 11:15 pm
Entry tags:
9/11/11--Where Were You?
It's been ten years. Most of us have stories. This is mine.
I was in biology class.
That's how I remember it was a Tuesday. It was my first semester of my first year of college, and I had never lived away from home before. The class took place at 8:15 in the morning, and mornings have never agreed with me, so I always took copious notes knowing that there was no other way I'd remember anything.
When I got back to the dorm, I usually fell back asleep until it was time for my next class. My roommate left for her first class of the day in the in-between time, and she set the clock radio alarm to give the morning news, so that was always playing softly when I had my mid-morning catnap.
On September 11, 2001, I was dozing when I heard one of the announcers say something about a plane crashing into the twin towers. Since that was utterly ridiculous and couldn't possibly be true, I assumed I was dreaming and pushed it out of my mind.
Later, when I got to my next class, everyone was talking about the towers falling. That's when I realized it wasn't a dream.
The next few days were a huge blur, as I'm sure they were for everyone: news channels on every TV, 24/7; endless phone calls and emails; tears and late-night conversations. I went to school in VA, but a lot of my classmates were from New Jersey or New York--including my roommate. A lot of them went home. The rest of us huddled together around televisions, with all our classes cancelled but no real reason to leave, and tried to figure out what had happened, why, and what we were supposed to do about it.
I'll tell you what really changed though.
Over the next week or so, American flags began appearing on bumpers, store windows, backpacks, clothing, and all manner of other things. People were judged on how "patriotic" they were, and the highest insult you could give someone was to accuse them of being "unpatriotic." This really, really bothered me, and it took me a while to understand why.
Flashback to senior year in high school, government class. The teacher asked us how we felt about America, and whether we were proud to live here. Just a few people said yes, including me. It surprised and frustrated me how many people--wealthy teenagers, in a highly regarded prep school, many with their own cars, cell phones and trust funds--had something to complain about.
Maybe this is just part of my upbringing, but I've never felt underprivileged. Not once. Not everything is easy here. But I'm constantly aware of all the good things I have and how fortunate I am, and I was aware of it back then too.
So, what I wondered, when all these so-called proud Americans came out of the woodwork in the aftermath of the attacks, was where they all were back when everything was still okay. Did they have something to be proud of before almost losing it? Do they appreciate how fortunate they are to live here now, when some of the horror has died down?
Or have they become disillusioned? Not quite as convinced that this is the greatest country on Earth? Worried for our future for the first time, rather than complacent and entitled?
I don't know.
One thing I do believe came from 9/11 that was unquestioningly positive, and I don't think this could have happened had the tragedy not come at a time when the internet, and global communication, were just starting to have a profound and extensive impact on all our lives: the overwhelming sense that no country, no people, race, religion or culture, is alone. So many people now have regular contacts with others from different time zones and different home languages, and what we've come to realize more than the things that differentiate us--at least I like to think this is the case--is how alike we all are in our hearts and minds.
That worldwide net of support and sympathy, in addition to the shock, of seeing the towers fall was one of the best things that happened to us. In an age when simply being from this country may still get you blacklisted in some places, that network is still there.
No matter where you were when this happened, it's part of who we all are. The world looks at itself a little differently these days. Every tragedy that's befallen any nation since 9/11--the tube bombings and, more recently, riots in London; the tsunamis and earthquakes in Japan; the terrorist attacks in the Netherlands--has been instantly met with that same network. We stand on more perilous ground than we once did, but I think there's a better sense that we're all in it together than there was before.
After ten years, I think that's something to be proud of.
I was in biology class.
That's how I remember it was a Tuesday. It was my first semester of my first year of college, and I had never lived away from home before. The class took place at 8:15 in the morning, and mornings have never agreed with me, so I always took copious notes knowing that there was no other way I'd remember anything.
When I got back to the dorm, I usually fell back asleep until it was time for my next class. My roommate left for her first class of the day in the in-between time, and she set the clock radio alarm to give the morning news, so that was always playing softly when I had my mid-morning catnap.
On September 11, 2001, I was dozing when I heard one of the announcers say something about a plane crashing into the twin towers. Since that was utterly ridiculous and couldn't possibly be true, I assumed I was dreaming and pushed it out of my mind.
Later, when I got to my next class, everyone was talking about the towers falling. That's when I realized it wasn't a dream.
The next few days were a huge blur, as I'm sure they were for everyone: news channels on every TV, 24/7; endless phone calls and emails; tears and late-night conversations. I went to school in VA, but a lot of my classmates were from New Jersey or New York--including my roommate. A lot of them went home. The rest of us huddled together around televisions, with all our classes cancelled but no real reason to leave, and tried to figure out what had happened, why, and what we were supposed to do about it.
I'll tell you what really changed though.
Over the next week or so, American flags began appearing on bumpers, store windows, backpacks, clothing, and all manner of other things. People were judged on how "patriotic" they were, and the highest insult you could give someone was to accuse them of being "unpatriotic." This really, really bothered me, and it took me a while to understand why.
Flashback to senior year in high school, government class. The teacher asked us how we felt about America, and whether we were proud to live here. Just a few people said yes, including me. It surprised and frustrated me how many people--wealthy teenagers, in a highly regarded prep school, many with their own cars, cell phones and trust funds--had something to complain about.
Maybe this is just part of my upbringing, but I've never felt underprivileged. Not once. Not everything is easy here. But I'm constantly aware of all the good things I have and how fortunate I am, and I was aware of it back then too.
So, what I wondered, when all these so-called proud Americans came out of the woodwork in the aftermath of the attacks, was where they all were back when everything was still okay. Did they have something to be proud of before almost losing it? Do they appreciate how fortunate they are to live here now, when some of the horror has died down?
Or have they become disillusioned? Not quite as convinced that this is the greatest country on Earth? Worried for our future for the first time, rather than complacent and entitled?
I don't know.
One thing I do believe came from 9/11 that was unquestioningly positive, and I don't think this could have happened had the tragedy not come at a time when the internet, and global communication, were just starting to have a profound and extensive impact on all our lives: the overwhelming sense that no country, no people, race, religion or culture, is alone. So many people now have regular contacts with others from different time zones and different home languages, and what we've come to realize more than the things that differentiate us--at least I like to think this is the case--is how alike we all are in our hearts and minds.
That worldwide net of support and sympathy, in addition to the shock, of seeing the towers fall was one of the best things that happened to us. In an age when simply being from this country may still get you blacklisted in some places, that network is still there.
No matter where you were when this happened, it's part of who we all are. The world looks at itself a little differently these days. Every tragedy that's befallen any nation since 9/11--the tube bombings and, more recently, riots in London; the tsunamis and earthquakes in Japan; the terrorist attacks in the Netherlands--has been instantly met with that same network. We stand on more perilous ground than we once did, but I think there's a better sense that we're all in it together than there was before.
After ten years, I think that's something to be proud of.