Heroes
Today's the 9th anniversary of easily one of the most tragic events to befall the United States of America.
9 years ago today, I was sitting in Spanish class in high school. I remember seeing the teachers flitting about the hallways whispering to each other as I was coming back from the principal's office. I remember walking back into the classroom and everyone was staring at the TV (which was NEVER on during class time) and there on it was a smoking skyscraper.
The news reporters talked about a plane crashing into the building, and I thought it was just some freak accident.
After the 2nd plane hit the other tower, we all began to figure it out. The next hit the pentagon. The next crashed in the field...the whole thing almost felt surreal...like a really bad apocalypse-type movie.
At the time, I was just a snappy southern boy who liked to stir up dust any chance I got. I had dreams of getting out and seeing the world - but I had never experienced much outside the city limits of Zwolle. I just made habit of asking questions and going on rants before trying to percieve the big picture, and cared about little else than my own selfish quest for glory and significance.
I remember being so confused as to why people cared so much about something that happened half way across the country, and why all of the sudden the ribbons and American flags were popping up everywhere and where the hell all this patriotism came from.
I remember the months on end of tributes that followed. I remember looking at the cafetria windows where the senior English classes did giant drawings of "Heroes" and wondering what the sillhouette of a New York Firefighter was doing among the likes of Spiderman and Wonder Woman...just in general what all the fuss was about.
Flash forward to today - I'm sitting on the mess decks attending a 9/11 remembrace and listening to our chaplain speak and his words about "why we serve" and "we dare remember 9/11". I think back and I realise what an ignorant child I was...
It wasn't until boot camp that I began to understand the meaning of what it is to be an American...and more than that, to wear this or any uniform of service to our country and yes, especially our cities and states.
I've been through my own set of trials and experiences (which I won't recount here, because this isn't about me) that have enabled me to empathize, if only to some degree, where I couldn't seem to before. I've come to realise the real reason we all wear our respective uniforms, and do the things we do.
Today as we all pause to remember those who have given thier lives in the ongoing struggle that began today, nine years ago...I also want to say thank you. Thank you to those who have worn thier city's...state's...or country's uniform. Thank you to those who wear it today, especially in harm's way, and thank you to those of you who will continue to wear it even after I take it off for the final time in a few weeks.
So, if I could say one thing to myself back then - it'd be that those firefighters deserved to be on that window more than any spandex-wearing product of pen, ink and fantasy could ever dream of being...and they should be displayed larger than anyone other.
For a hero isn't neccessarily he who fulfills the illusions of our fantasies, but rather he (or she) who stands unafraid and does what must be done for the greater good, no matter the cost.
God bless America, and until the mission is complete, God bless its executors.
"We will not tire. We will not falter and we will not fail." - George W. Bush
9 years ago today, I was sitting in Spanish class in high school. I remember seeing the teachers flitting about the hallways whispering to each other as I was coming back from the principal's office. I remember walking back into the classroom and everyone was staring at the TV (which was NEVER on during class time) and there on it was a smoking skyscraper.
The news reporters talked about a plane crashing into the building, and I thought it was just some freak accident.
After the 2nd plane hit the other tower, we all began to figure it out. The next hit the pentagon. The next crashed in the field...the whole thing almost felt surreal...like a really bad apocalypse-type movie.
At the time, I was just a snappy southern boy who liked to stir up dust any chance I got. I had dreams of getting out and seeing the world - but I had never experienced much outside the city limits of Zwolle. I just made habit of asking questions and going on rants before trying to percieve the big picture, and cared about little else than my own selfish quest for glory and significance.
I remember being so confused as to why people cared so much about something that happened half way across the country, and why all of the sudden the ribbons and American flags were popping up everywhere and where the hell all this patriotism came from.
I remember the months on end of tributes that followed. I remember looking at the cafetria windows where the senior English classes did giant drawings of "Heroes" and wondering what the sillhouette of a New York Firefighter was doing among the likes of Spiderman and Wonder Woman...just in general what all the fuss was about.
Flash forward to today - I'm sitting on the mess decks attending a 9/11 remembrace and listening to our chaplain speak and his words about "why we serve" and "we dare remember 9/11". I think back and I realise what an ignorant child I was...
It wasn't until boot camp that I began to understand the meaning of what it is to be an American...and more than that, to wear this or any uniform of service to our country and yes, especially our cities and states.
I've been through my own set of trials and experiences (which I won't recount here, because this isn't about me) that have enabled me to empathize, if only to some degree, where I couldn't seem to before. I've come to realise the real reason we all wear our respective uniforms, and do the things we do.
Today as we all pause to remember those who have given thier lives in the ongoing struggle that began today, nine years ago...I also want to say thank you. Thank you to those who have worn thier city's...state's...or country's uniform. Thank you to those who wear it today, especially in harm's way, and thank you to those of you who will continue to wear it even after I take it off for the final time in a few weeks.
So, if I could say one thing to myself back then - it'd be that those firefighters deserved to be on that window more than any spandex-wearing product of pen, ink and fantasy could ever dream of being...and they should be displayed larger than anyone other.
For a hero isn't neccessarily he who fulfills the illusions of our fantasies, but rather he (or she) who stands unafraid and does what must be done for the greater good, no matter the cost.
God bless America, and until the mission is complete, God bless its executors.
"We will not tire. We will not falter and we will not fail." - George W. Bush