This summer opened my eyes to the power of writing; the power of words. You can't miss what you don't have, but now that I've had it, I really miss it. This post is going to wax abstract, and this blog as a whole is going to stay naïvely patriotic.
Today, I opened The Chronicle and read perhaps the most touching and provocative column that paper has published in my 2+ years at Duke. Not scandalous like Gossip Bro, but positively human.
9/11, an act of atrocity and a day scarred in the memories of every living American (perhaps every citizen worldwide lucky--or unlucky--enough to have access to the media), is oddly unifying. In theory, terrorism is meant to terrorize (obviously), to incite fear and alter lifestyles. But throughout my life--the last 10 years that I truly remember--9/11 has been a paradoxically unifying event. It is a common experience.
My 9/11 is still memorable to this day. I don't remember anything else from 5th grade. It was a Tuesday, the day after my birthday, and the birthday of a classmate (Dunkin Donuts were, of course, in order). It was a normal September day, with clear blue skies and mild temperatures. And then, midmorning, things started to change. Every five minutes, another student's name was called out over the loudspeaker for early dismissal. Teachers whispered in the halls as we changed classes. "I think something has happened in New York," one of them said--but they didn't tell us what. I got off the bus, and my mom was waiting there. Weird. "We haven't told them anything," the bus driver said to her.
Told us anything about what? We walked up the hill and in the front door. The living room TV was quiet, as the images spoke for themselves. Every channel, chaos. A movie. Surreal. Science fiction. I didn't understand. Sometimes, I still don't.
Instantly my mind raced to thoughts of family and friends, people who worked in lower Manhattan. I thought of my dad, Chief of a major fire department across the river. Would they be called in? What was going on? Is there school tomorrow?
Over the last decade, 9/11 has been that common experience that I can go to time and again. It has a peculiar habit of cropping up in conversations as I get to know people; I'm not quite sure how, other than the days/weeks after I read Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. The fascinating thing about 9/11 (and this is true of any shared experience), is that I imagine that everyone lived it my way. At Duke, it has been fascinating to hear other takes on 9/11. From Manhattanites to Australians and everyone in between. Interesting to note that, to some people, 9/11 happened at night. I so associate those crisp September mornings with that post-9/11 feeling, I can't imagine darkness (another paradox, perhaps). Amazing to hear my friend's story--an American in London--trying to call family back in the States but the international lines literally being jammed for days. Captivating to go to the Pentagon Memorial this summer and remember that 9/11 was not merely a New York event. When you grow up with New York as your city, it is easy to take it for granted; to assume that all cities are like it and that all people know it. It will always be The City, but I'm finally grasping that there are others.
That Chronicle column presented another viewpoint; allowed me to step into another person's 9/11 shoes. One of my best friends in 5th grade was Middle Eastern, Muslim. I never stepped into those shoes until now.
Half my life has now been lived in the absence of those two towers, and everything they stood for. I have never been to Ground Zero, and I'm still not sure if I ever want to go.
I cannot believe it has been 10 years. It will always be like yesterday. Here's to hoping that, through remembrance, 9/11 will forever be a unifying event--instead of a polarizing one--not just for Americans, but for all people who lived through that day.
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