inspired by kibbles-remembering 9/11
Where was I on 9/11? I was getting ready for work and sat down to eat breakfast and catch a few minutes of something on TV. The first plane had just hit. I was not surprised. I knew it was a terrorist attack. The second plane hit. I felt little emotion other then real concern for all the people trapped. Then they said that the Pentagon was hit and the White House had smoke rising from it. Then I was VERY worried. It was a full scale attack! Still, I left for work as usual.
During naptime mothers began to arrive to pick up their children. They were crying and terrified. I had heard the White House was NOT under attack and for the most part felt nothing. But these women were really very scared. They told their babies “I know you don’t understand right now what is going on, but in a few years I will tell you. You will understand, and you will mourn with the rest of us.” Almost all the 165 children were picked up early that day, by parents who were afraid the day care was going to be bombed, by parents who were too upset to work, by parents who personalized the situation way too much. It was so strange to me.
I will never forget 9-11, none of us will. But more then the crumbling buildings and dying people, what stands out most in my mind are those who were left behind. Those who knew no one injured or killed in the attack, but still hold onto it as though their spouse, their child, their life was snuffed out in those few hours. It’s beyond empathy. It’s beyond concern for our nation. It’s some strange form of idolatry- worshiping fear, worshiping the fallen, worshiping the heroes, worshiping the famous. It’s part of our pop culture, I guess. It’s not something I really understand.
Call me insensitive if you want, but that is what it was like for me, on 9-11.
During naptime mothers began to arrive to pick up their children. They were crying and terrified. I had heard the White House was NOT under attack and for the most part felt nothing. But these women were really very scared. They told their babies “I know you don’t understand right now what is going on, but in a few years I will tell you. You will understand, and you will mourn with the rest of us.” Almost all the 165 children were picked up early that day, by parents who were afraid the day care was going to be bombed, by parents who were too upset to work, by parents who personalized the situation way too much. It was so strange to me.
I will never forget 9-11, none of us will. But more then the crumbling buildings and dying people, what stands out most in my mind are those who were left behind. Those who knew no one injured or killed in the attack, but still hold onto it as though their spouse, their child, their life was snuffed out in those few hours. It’s beyond empathy. It’s beyond concern for our nation. It’s some strange form of idolatry- worshiping fear, worshiping the fallen, worshiping the heroes, worshiping the famous. It’s part of our pop culture, I guess. It’s not something I really understand.
Call me insensitive if you want, but that is what it was like for me, on 9-11.