Twenty-Five Years Later
It’s a common phenomenon. I can’t always remember what I did yesterday but I remember an example my history teacher gave in class two decades ago. I’ve been told by friends that I have an amazing memory. I’m not sure if that’s true but I do have a knack for remembering random details about things and events most people have forgotten. Things like high school class schedules, the books read for certain college classes, and random conversations. I will often say in a Marco Polo to a friend, “Hey do you remember that person in high school and one day this happened in class and…” She will usually reply with, “No.” But I can see it clear as today.
Even if you have a bad memory, if you were older than a toddler in 2001, you probably have memories of the morning of September 11. There are some moments that defy forgetting if you experienced them. I’m sure Pearl Harbor and JFK’s assassination are other examples. They are so shocking, so unexpected that your brain is unable to filter them away. Memories will unexpectedly come to the surface with a reference, a video, an anniversary.
In the case of September 11, it wasn't just a random place for me. I had been in New York City in May of that year. Part of my high school choir had traveled to perform in a larger choir at Carnegie Hall. We went sightseeing between rehearsals, saw a Broadway show, and shopped. One afternoon we took a boat to the Statue of Liberty. On our way back to Manhattan, I clicked a picture of the skyline, the Twin Towers in full view.
I was leaving math class on 9/11 when I noticed everyone huddled in groups whispering and solemn. When I got to my English class and heard the Twin Towers had been hit and then the Pentagon, the full force hit me. In my mind, evil seemed close.
To demonstrate what a different place the world was before that morning, when we visited NYC as a choir, our director literally turned us loose. We had to stay in groups of three but me and two friends took the subway to Rockefeller Center, walked through Bloomingdale's, and rode the escalator in Saks Fifth Avenue. Three 17 year old girls, wandering the city alone. No phone, no GPS. Just watches and a rendezvous time to be back at the hotel.
The reality of what happened on 9/11, and happened so quickly, took much of that innocence and trust out of the world. Yes, the world was dangerous before, but it didn't feel like it. You could ask a stranger for directions and they would help you. People made eye contact and smiled. You could start a conversation with a person on the subway and they would usually engage politely. There was a general kindness between people, even in a city like New York.
That day wasn't just full of loss. It was brimming with uncertainty. Things that seemed like they would always happen stopped. Airports stood still as planes were grounded indefinitely. In a world before cell phones were the norm, people waited for news, waited for family to get to a phone. Photos of the missing lined streets, plane manifests were released. It wasn't just September 11. It was the weeks following when everyone was raw and on edge and waiting for what impossible things would come next.
As I sat in English, listening to the radio reports, I remember looking around. Even the class cut ups who were usually talking in the back of class were silent, staring at the blackboard with unblinking eyes. Our teacher, who was rarely quiet or still in class, stood to the side, hands covering his mouth and staring so intently at the radio, it was almost as if he was willing the news to change. At the end of class, we prayed and filed out, silent. I met friends in the hall and we hugged and cried together.
When I talk about that day with my kids, I still cry. When I see footage, I get a sick feeling in my stomach, in a way still not believing it's real. But it was. Nine months after, I found myself in NYC again, this time on a mission trip. On a Sunday evening, we took the subway from Brooklyn and quietly walked to where the Towers had stood. It was a giant hole, fenced off. A crew still worked to continually remove the rubble. Photos of the lost were displayed in makeshift memorials. Flowers and candles were placed at different intervals. There was no talking, not because people were enforcing a rule but because you felt the weight of the place. There were no words adequate to say.
Today there are many words to express what that day felt like and took from people and changed, but I still come up short to communicate the full sense of sorrow I feel on these anniversaries. And maybe that's something worth considering. That it is good for us to sometimes remember with silence and a prayer.
Photo by Andrew Ruiz on Unsplash