Jasmine Burwell wrote this in 2008 as a junior in high school, and I think it still rings true today….
September 11th, may we never forget!
Today is September 11, 2008. It has been seven years since that fateful day in United States history. As I woke up today, it was like I was transported back in time, to this day seven years ago, the nine-year-old me waking up in my brother’s room to him running in, “Jasmine! The World Trade Center just got hit by an airplane!” Neither of us knew what the World Trade Center was, but we both knew this was a very important day in our history, and it would never be the same. I bolted out of the bottom bunk and ran into my mom’s room, Julian trailing closely behind. I saw the second plane hit live. The footage played over and over again on the television screen as the news anchors were just as clueless and scared as the rest of America. I heard the national decree to ground all planes live from the television. I looked at my mom, “Is daddy okay?” He had left on a business trip that morning. My mom replied, “I’m sure he’s fine.” But in her eyes I could see that she was worried his plane had already taken off that morning and he might be stuck in Arizona for a while. She looked at me again, “You both better get ready for school.”
Walking into school was like a dream. Almost nobody spoke, and my fourth grade teacher had the television on in her room, her eyes never moving from it as all of us filed into our seats. The first hour of class was spent in silence as we all watched the horror unfold on the television screen. That was the day I first understood what it meant to commit suicide, as I watched footage of people jumping from the top of the buildings to their death. I watched both towers collapse live on national television.
I don’t remember much about school that day. I remember my best friend’s mom coming to school and picking him up to take him home. I remember that after the first hour of watching the television my teacher turned it off and sat with her head in her hands for a few minutes; then told us to go around and see if anyone needed comforting. I went to every person in the class and prayed for them. It was all I could think to do as my classmate told me her uncle worked in the World Trade Center and another boy said his Dad was on a flight to New York earlier that morning. I don’t exactly remember really learning anything that day; mostly it was going into the classroom and working on an assignment written on the board…It was a very somber day.
Coming home that afternoon, I walked into the living room to see the television still on. The image on the screen was the Pentagon, burning. My mom was cradling the phone in her hands, staring at the screen. She looked at my brother and I, “Your Daddy’s gonna be home. Thank God his plane didn’t take off on schedule, the grounding order happened before they left the terminal.” Floods of relief washed over me, my dad would be home that night. My second thought was, “Will this ever end?” as I watched the burning buildings, airplanes, and grief-stricken-ashy faces of people move across the screen. I was too young to understand the gravity of the situation, but I sure well understood that day was a monumental day.
The funny thing is; I don’t ever remember being scared at all throughout that time…just feeling grief and sorrow over the people I knew who had lost loved ones in the attack and in the aftermath of it.
Today my Sociology teacher brought in some comic books and newspapers that were printed within the first week of the attack. Most of them were the New York Times from the 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, and 16th. A few were my local newspaper, The Colorado Springs Gazette, and a couple was from his hometown in Texas. The comic books were tributes to that day, which were printed shortly after the attack. The DC comic book was truly a comic book, telling the story of one woman’s experience trying to escape the World Trade Center and the firefighter who saved her life. The pages after her story was over were just text stories from other survivors. However the Marvel comic book was one of the most powerful things I’ve ever read. It was simply called “Heroes” and had a picture of a firefighter carrying a limp body with smoke and rubble behind him. There weren’t many words, and on the pages that had words were little poems and short quotes from people. But the imagery was so powerful in those drawings; it took all that was in me to keep from breaking down and crying right in the middle of my sociology class. I will tell you right now I didn’t succeed. I didn’t sob or anything, but tears were fresh in my eyes as I turned each haunting page. In the foreground of one picture a group of fireman were running up stairs and everyone else was running down, while in the background there is an American flag, torn, falling as a small child looks up to it. In another, the image of a little girl clutching her crying mother as they sit next to a table with the picture of a man in uniform next to them, the Twin Towers burning outside the window of their house. Another picture was of fireman saving people from the burning buildings, while in the sky there were walls covered in “missing” poster with the face of hundreds of people. The American flag, torn, being raised up on a broken beam, as a makeshift cross stands closely towards it and next to them both, a woman is lying across the rubble, weeping.
Images like these will haunt me. They will remind me of the sacrifices good people make to help others. How in a moment of immense horror and fear, a nation came together as One Nation, Under God, Indivisible. And how when faced with crisis, America’s finest (a name which seems to not nearly do them justice) came forward, volunteering to help so much, that volunteers were turned away because of the immense influx of people who wanted to help.
This morning we said the pledge of allegiance just as every morning in school. I began to cry as I uttered the words, “one nation, under God, indivisible” Are we really one nation anymore? We certainly aren’t indivisible. And have we forgotten from where we came? We were truly united on that fateful day seven years ago, but we have fallen so far. President Bush said on September 11, 2001 that we were entering into a 20 year war on terror. We entered into this war to stop bad people, and to help those who are less fortunate. We didn’t go into Iraq and Afghanistan for oil, or to please the senior President Bush. We went into this war to protect the people of America.
It breaks my heart to think that we have lost sight of why we are doing what we do. I pray we never forget the heroes who risked their lives and even lost them to protect and save us.
