The Loss of Innocence
This morning I purposely got up to watch a documentary hosted by the A&E channels. All the footage of the events of 9/11/01 is filmed and recorded by every day people.
The attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and the actions of the men and women of Flight 93 marked a certain loss of innocence in my life, and, I truly believe, in our country. At the moment of this documentary the two women filming from what looks like their dorm room screamed in horror as they saw the second plane fly into the 2nd WTC building. The fear, the terror, the unbelief in their voices is 100 times the fear the those of us who weren't there experienced. But we all felt a fear that we had never felt before.
I grew up a military brat. My dad is a decorated Vietnam veteran. My mom has been a military spouse from day 1 of their marriage. They got married between his two tours to Vietnam. I was born in 1975. My dad became a National Guardsman; but by the time I was five my dad decided to leave his National Guard post and become full time, career Army helicopter pilot.
I always believed that my dad's service, and my mother's as a military spouse, was to protect our country , and when needed, to step in and help others that could not help themselves. I've always been proud of my parents. I've always been proud to be an Army brat. Even considered my family very special because of what my dad did.
In 1983 we moved to Germany and lived there for four years. While we were there we explored so much of Europe, the beautiful castles, the amazing mountains, immersing ourselves in a lot of history. Not all of it good. What I taught myself after visiting Verdun and Dachau and crossing through Check Point Charlie from West Berlin into East Berlin was that my country was also special. At the time I didn't understand the constant struggles in the Middle East or even connect Pearl Harbor and some of the US's early years and atrocities towards Native Americans as to my America.
My America was filled with friends and snowy Christmases with my extended family. My America was unscarred by horrible things like war or disease or famine. That was my innocence and naivete. And maybe little kids need to keep that kind of safe feeling about their country.
When the terrorists attacks happened on September 11, 2001, my assurance in my safety for living in America was shattered. Suddenly my untouchable America was being attacked in the most unheard of way. Not by bombs, but by airliners flying into New York City's most easily seen landmarks. How could this happen? How did my America become so unsafe?
For a long time after that we heard rumors of more attacks. We were living where we live now, in North Central Florida. We learned that the pilots who flew the planes that attacked our country learned how to fly in the town just south of ours. We heard that there might be an attack at Walt Disney World resort, just two hours south of us. If that happened what would that mean for us? Sadly and out of fear, we watched every dark skinned, Middle Eastern "looking" group of young men with suspicion.
Then our country went to war. People I grew up with were sent over seas not just once but twice, three times. My cousin left his sons and went to Afghanistan. A friend from college had married a Marine who was deployed several times. Again we heard the rumors that the US armed forces, who at one time I thought to be the biggest and baddest group of men and women to protect a country, was dwindling and former military personnel might be called back. What would this mean for my dad? For my husband, who served as an unenlisted soldier for four years and just missed out of being sent to Iraq during the "first" Gulf War.
While our soldiers were fighting overseas our political parties started their own war here in our country. By 2008 there was a huge divide between the Democratic and Republican parties. It's war that continues to be waged. Normally friendly people become enraged and say the nastiest things about people who don't agree exactly what they believe.
I am no longer naive about the safety of my country. While our attack was small in scale to what the people of Afghanistan, Israel, Sarajevo, India, Cuba, North Korea, Somalia, South Africa face daily, our attack was still devastating.
I know that my sadness and tears over the events of September 11, 2001, are nothing of the sort of those New Yorkers, the families and friends who lost people they loved that day, or of the men and women in the NY police and fire departments who tried so desperately to save as many people as they could; or the families of Todd Beamer and the amazing people on Flight 93 who would not let those terrorists complete their agenda. Or the woman who lost her nephew when the third airliner flew into the Pentagon, into the section of the building where he worked and then died.
God bless America. God bless our beautiful earth and all the people who reside on this planet. May we truly find peace some day.
The attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and the actions of the men and women of Flight 93 marked a certain loss of innocence in my life, and, I truly believe, in our country. At the moment of this documentary the two women filming from what looks like their dorm room screamed in horror as they saw the second plane fly into the 2nd WTC building. The fear, the terror, the unbelief in their voices is 100 times the fear the those of us who weren't there experienced. But we all felt a fear that we had never felt before.
I grew up a military brat. My dad is a decorated Vietnam veteran. My mom has been a military spouse from day 1 of their marriage. They got married between his two tours to Vietnam. I was born in 1975. My dad became a National Guardsman; but by the time I was five my dad decided to leave his National Guard post and become full time, career Army helicopter pilot.
I always believed that my dad's service, and my mother's as a military spouse, was to protect our country , and when needed, to step in and help others that could not help themselves. I've always been proud of my parents. I've always been proud to be an Army brat. Even considered my family very special because of what my dad did.
In 1983 we moved to Germany and lived there for four years. While we were there we explored so much of Europe, the beautiful castles, the amazing mountains, immersing ourselves in a lot of history. Not all of it good. What I taught myself after visiting Verdun and Dachau and crossing through Check Point Charlie from West Berlin into East Berlin was that my country was also special. At the time I didn't understand the constant struggles in the Middle East or even connect Pearl Harbor and some of the US's early years and atrocities towards Native Americans as to my America.
My America was filled with friends and snowy Christmases with my extended family. My America was unscarred by horrible things like war or disease or famine. That was my innocence and naivete. And maybe little kids need to keep that kind of safe feeling about their country.
When the terrorists attacks happened on September 11, 2001, my assurance in my safety for living in America was shattered. Suddenly my untouchable America was being attacked in the most unheard of way. Not by bombs, but by airliners flying into New York City's most easily seen landmarks. How could this happen? How did my America become so unsafe?
For a long time after that we heard rumors of more attacks. We were living where we live now, in North Central Florida. We learned that the pilots who flew the planes that attacked our country learned how to fly in the town just south of ours. We heard that there might be an attack at Walt Disney World resort, just two hours south of us. If that happened what would that mean for us? Sadly and out of fear, we watched every dark skinned, Middle Eastern "looking" group of young men with suspicion.
Then our country went to war. People I grew up with were sent over seas not just once but twice, three times. My cousin left his sons and went to Afghanistan. A friend from college had married a Marine who was deployed several times. Again we heard the rumors that the US armed forces, who at one time I thought to be the biggest and baddest group of men and women to protect a country, was dwindling and former military personnel might be called back. What would this mean for my dad? For my husband, who served as an unenlisted soldier for four years and just missed out of being sent to Iraq during the "first" Gulf War.
While our soldiers were fighting overseas our political parties started their own war here in our country. By 2008 there was a huge divide between the Democratic and Republican parties. It's war that continues to be waged. Normally friendly people become enraged and say the nastiest things about people who don't agree exactly what they believe.
I am no longer naive about the safety of my country. While our attack was small in scale to what the people of Afghanistan, Israel, Sarajevo, India, Cuba, North Korea, Somalia, South Africa face daily, our attack was still devastating.
I know that my sadness and tears over the events of September 11, 2001, are nothing of the sort of those New Yorkers, the families and friends who lost people they loved that day, or of the men and women in the NY police and fire departments who tried so desperately to save as many people as they could; or the families of Todd Beamer and the amazing people on Flight 93 who would not let those terrorists complete their agenda. Or the woman who lost her nephew when the third airliner flew into the Pentagon, into the section of the building where he worked and then died.
God bless America. God bless our beautiful earth and all the people who reside on this planet. May we truly find peace some day.