Like many people yesterday, I read and watched the 9/11 anniversary tributes and events. I couldn’t help but think about my own memories of the day and consequently how that day changed my life.
I had gone to work as usual, dropping my two children off at daycare. My daughter was only 5 months old, my son almost 4. At the fateful time, I overheard several people saying that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I immediately thought it was a small plane that was off-course or had an inexperienced pilot.
My then-husband called to relay the information and my repeated questions were left with responses like “they don’t know”. Within minutes, when the second plane hit, my colleagues were in a frenzy trying to call people or find a conference room with a TV.
We walked to a large window where on a clear day, we could see the skyline of New York. On this day, all we saw was smoke. We were not up the street from the Twin Towers. We were not in Hoboken looking over the river. We were in Purchase, NY – Westchester County – and WE could see the smoke.
I sat at my desk not knowing what to do; how to feel. When the next plane hit the Pentagon, I was gone. I ran out of that office, picked up my kids and drove home like a woman possessed.
Once home, I turned on the TV and watched in horror as the buildings collapsed. How is this possible I kept asking? They are made of steel and iron and other ‘stuff’. It didn’t’ matter. Even the strong become weak when pushed over their limit.
As we learned of this being caused by a terrorist attack, I felt the anger rise up in me. I spoke words like “How dare they?” Through my anger, I also felt deep sadness for those who died and for those who wouldn’t know for days the fate of their loved ones but yet in some secret place, really did know.
In the weeks and months later, tribute after tribute, fundraiser after fundraiser filled the media pleading with us to help, to come together as a nation, to unite.
And we did…for a while.
Fourteen years later, the Freedom Tower shines as a beacon of hope and beauty and strength. Billions of dollars to rebuild, millions of lives touched, thousands of days passed.
We will never forget where we were on that day. We will never forget how we felt. But fourteen years later, what has changed in us? Where is that unity from those earlier days? Where is that compassion when we reached out to those directly impacted? Where is the strength and the pride of the American people?
It’s gone. Lost in pettiness like fighting over mom’s breastfeeding in public. Lost in crazed celebrities that showcase their egos and their bare bodies in the name of “being themselves” and polluting the minds of our young ones. Lost in the corruption of politicians and CEOs who are driving our once-rich country into the dirt. Lost in the millions of people suffering from addiction and disease. Lost in a country governed not by our Constitution, but by bullies and self-interest groups who want to control and dictate our every move.
Lost…
I saw the picture of the rainbow over the Freedom Tower on September 10. The comments on social media and the news said that it was a sign from those who lost their lives that day. They were sending us hope. They were reminding us that they were watching over us.
I choose to believe this is true. But I have to wonder also, if those thousands of souls are also crying for us. I have to wonder if they are up in heaven scratching their heads saying “What is the matter with America?” “Was this tragedy and my death all in vain?” “Why don’t they see what they are doing?”
We didn’t get it people. And when we were reminded of the preciousness of life with the tragedy of Sandy Hook, we didn’t get it then either. We’re not getting it. And thousands of people are dying because we won’t open our eyes, come together in unity, and stop the madness.
We have crazy people in this world threatening our very lives, our freedoms, our security and our children’s futures.
What are we doing?
Tweeting. Buying selfie sticks. Creating yet another reality show. Tearing people down for making mistakes. Judging others so harshly that it makes my head spin. Hurting others with words and actions that are irreparable. Filling our lives with so much “stuff” that we forget our children in hot cars.
I don’t look at 9-11 as a date anymore. I look at this number like 911. It was a 911 call to America to wake up.
We’ve chosen to hit the snooze button, or worse, we’ve shut off the alarm altogether.
Those people died in vain because instead of coming together as a nation, we’re more divided than ever. My heart breaks for this country and it breaks for my children who will inherit this dysfunctional mess we created.
I don’t know how many more lives have to be lost or buildings destroyed or tragedies to occur before we realize we are one nation; one people established on the premise that we have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Millions have died to protect this credo. What have we done to honor them?
Let’s not get to the fifteenth anniversary of 9-11 and spend another day remembering the past. Let’s take the next 365 days and make a difference. Help your neighbor. Forgive a friend. Pray for our nation.
Believe it or not, these baby steps are all it takes to make a difference. One person can change the world.
This is your 911 call. Will you answer?