I barely remember a world “before”. In some cases, I don’t remember it at all.
A world where we weren’t looking over our shoulders wondering…what’s next?
Events like Oklahoma City, Columbine, September 11 haven’t happened TO me. But they definitely have AFFECTED me – I’ve been having panic attacks on and off since I was in FIFTH grade. Panic attacks about the “what if?”. And as a kid (and adult) with an overactive imagination – the “what if” is never good and can get pretty dramatic.
I know every generation has had their bad things. It’s not a new development. And there are others that live in places where their “what ifs” are much more likely to happen.
At the end of the day, I’m just tired of not remembering the befores. Of the wondering “what’s next”. Of seeing what’s next.
Maybe that’s why Patton Oswalt’s viral Facebook status struck such a chord with me Monday. It was a perfect representation of what I was feeling at the time. I’m tired of these events shaping our worldview. We are inherently good. Human kind is not horrendous en mass. I know this because I see it. I see it daily.
[…]there are prices and penalties incurred for the daily miracle of existence. One of them is, every once in awhile, the wiring of a tiny sliver of the species gets snarled and they’re pointed towards darkness.
But the vast majority stands against that darkness and, like white blood cells attacking a virus, they dilute and weaken and eventually wash away the evil doers and, more importantly, the damage they wreak. This is beyond religion or creed or nation. We would not be here if humanity were inherently evil. We’d have eaten ourselves alive long ago.
I’m tired of these events taking away the faith I have in humanity. And I do have faith in humanity – I see good in people day in and day out at my workplace. I see people literally take the shoes off of their feet, the bracelets off of their arms, donate designer dresses with the hangtags still intact, give a few hours of their valuable time…all to help someone in need. And not treat it as an obligation, or something they feel has to be done. They do it because they WANT to do it.
And on Monday, as bombs were exploding and panic spread around them – people ran INTO the chaos. Not just first responders, but everyday citizens. They ripped apart their clothing to act as tourniquets. They held each other as they mourned. They ran their 26.2 and then 2 more to the hospital to donate blood. They opened their homes to displaced runners. In yet another moment of unspeakable pain and tragedy, the human spirit was alive and present.
I’m tired of being tired and so I’m not going to be tired anymore. Instead of dwelling on wondering who could do the unspeakable horrible, I’m going to dwell on those that do the magnificent good.
So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think, “The good outnumber you, and we always will.”
This is mainly a repost of what I had last year. And the year before. But each year, some other little detail pops up that I remember, and another that I forgot. But each time I read this, one thing stays the same – all of the emotions come flooding back. If you’re reading this, please share your story. I’d love to hear where you were.
On September 11, 2001, I was in eighth grade – a month shy of 14. I walked into my third period class – social studies, right after band – and couldn’t figure out what movie we were watching and why my teacher had started it before class. I remember thinking, for some reason, that it was Independence Day.
Moments before, the second plane had struck the South Tower.
I can’t remember when I figured it out – that it wasn’t a movie. I don’t know if it was listening to Matt Lauer or if the teacher finally spoke up. I remember being so angry with many of my classmates who were excited to have the day off in class – didn’t they understand the magnitude? I remember my teacher losing it when the report about the Pentagon came out. She kept repeating that that was the most secure building in the country and it had been attacked. “Where are they going next?” Which I think is something we all asked in those moments and days following. A rumor that quickly spread, and I thank God I didn’t know about at the time, was that the nuclear plant 60 miles away was a potential target for the one remaining plane in the sky, Flight 93.
I remember questioning how they were going to save all of those people above the crash zones. Were they going to use helicopters? And how do they get fires out that far above ground? After all, my hometown is lacking in skyscrapers. It was a thought that had never occurred to me.
And then the South Tower fell.
Some of my teachers tried to teach that day. Others just stared at the televisions in shock and horror. Some tried to explain what happened to us. But how could you, on that day? How do you tell a room full of eighth graders that someone hated us, as a country, and our way of life enough to use our planes to fly in to our buildings. I still can not make sense of it.
I can’t remember learning anything that day.
When I finally got off the bus, my dad was waiting – a rarity. And we camped out in front of the TV.
I remember the sounds coming from Ground Zero. All of those beeps. To me, they sounded like English emergency responder sirens. I was under the impression that they were from the crushed firetrucks and other emergency personnel vehicles. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I learned what they really were. Each siren represented a fallen first responder. And when I think about that now…all of those beeps – they just went on and on and on.
That weekend we went to my grandparents in Cleveland. I wish I could remember that drive across the Ohio Turnpike. Was it any different from the time before? That Saturday, I remember watching some tween-focused news program on ABC. It was Carson Daly and Peter Jennings. And I remember Carson Daly, the dude who I watched every weekday after school who normally informed me which boy band reigned supreme that week on TRL, instead telling me that there could be more attacks, and they could be nuclear attacks and…
That week, I had my first panic attack in over 3 years. They became more frequent and more powerful in the years following.
I was so scared, not knowing what was next. I had felt safe my entire life, never having to worry about anything more than an occasional tornado warning. That was as bad as it got in the farm town in Northwest Ohio where I grew up. Suddenly, terrorists and nuclear and bioweapons entered my life. I got nervous, imagining all of the things that could happen next. I went from living in the relative safety of a small-town to wondering what was coming next.
Vodpod videos no longer available.
I remember watching this episode. And not knowing how we were ever going to go back to before. When were we going to find things in the news to laugh about?
***
Eleven years down the road , everything has changed and yet nothing has. We’re no longer living as we did on 9/12/2001. We’re not concerned with our neighbors and working together and being kind to each other. We’re back to 9/10/2001, where we care more about the marriage of celebrities than the well-being of neighbors. Lord knows I’m guilty.
And I’m the least political person and I don’t want to start, but we’re the exact opposite of bipartisan politics. And it’s never been worse that it is at election time. We have more hoops to jump through to get on a plane, or across a border. But I don’t feel any more safe. I find myself wondering today what comes next? When will it happen again? And this time, will people that I love be involved?
September eleventh is now a National Day of Service. It’s a way for us as a nation to take the darkest day in our history and use the feelings that the day brought, the feelings that brought this vast, diverse country together and made us kind to one another. Ask someone today if they’re okay. Pay for the coffee of the guy behind you in line. Ask your elderly neighbor if you can clean her gutters for her. Reach out to that charity that you’ve been meaning to and find out how you can volunteer. Call your family. Put a flag on your front porch. Stop fighting about what party is better and come up with real ideas for how to make this country better.
None of us that lived that day will ever forget. Those of us that were far enough removed from that day have moved on. We don’t think about it every day. And that’s okay. We’re supposed to do that. But we can’t forget it. I don’t think I can. I don’t think anyone who lived through that September day could. And that’s the point. We aren’t meant to forget these things. We’re meant to remember, reflect and learn.
Today, take a moment to remember. Remember the people, the 2,958 who died and the 6,000+ who were injured and their families. Remember the brave men and women who went into the buildings when so many were coming out. Remember that day.
It is impossible to fully comprehend the evil that would have conjured up such a cowardly and depraved assault upon thousands of innocent people. – Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chretien, Sept. 11 2001
On September 11, 2001, I was in eighth grade; 13 years old. I remember walking into my social studies class, the third one of the day, and not being able to figure out what movie we were watching and why my teacher had started it before class. For some reason, I thought it was Independence Day.
The second plane had just struck the South Tower.
I can’t remember when I figured it out. I don’t know if it was listening to Matt Lauer or if the teacher spoke up. I remember being so angry with many of my classmates who were excited to have the day off. I remember my teacher losing it when the report about the Pentagon being attacked came out. She kept telling us that that was the most secure building in the country and it had been attacked. The feeling that I got from her in that moment is “where are they going next?” Which I think is something we all asked in those moments and days following. A rumor that quickly spread, and I thank God I didn’t know about at the time, was that the nuclear plant 60 miles away was a potential target for the one remaining plane in the sky, Flight 93.
I remember questioning how they were going to save all of those people above the crash zones. Were they going to use helicopters? And how do they get fires out that far above ground?
And then the South Tower fell.
And suddenly the question became how can anyone survive that collapse? And praying for the people in the North Tower to get out before it suffered the same, inevitable fate.
Some of my teachers tried to teach that day. Others just stared at the televisions in shock and horror.
I can’t remember learning anything that day.
When we got home, my dad met us at home. And we camped out in front of the TV. We watched MSNBC in those days, and I remember watching Ashleigh Banfield reporting from Ground Zero as WTC 7 collapsed.
I remember the sounds coming from Ground Zero. All of those beeps. To me, they sounded like English sirens. I was under the impression that they were from the crushed firetrucks and other emergency personnel vehicles. It wasn’t until the past month that I learned what they really were. Each siren represented a fallen first responder. And when I think about that now…
I remember being so angry that I couldn’t get away from it for a moment. I had become completely absorbed in the coverage all day and about dinner time, 13 year old me couldn’t take it any more. And yet every website, regardless of regular content, was full of news. Same with tv stations. Even Nickelodeon.
That week, I had my first panic attack in over 3 years.
I was so scared, not knowing what was next. I had felt safe my entire life, never having to worry about anything more than an occasional tornado warning. That was as bad as it got. Suddenly, terrorists and nuclear and bioweapons entered my life. I got nervous, imagining all of the things that could happen next.
Vodpod videos no longer available.
I remember watching this episode. And not knowing how we were ever going to go back to before. When were we going to find things in the news to laugh about?
Ten years later, everything has changed and yet nothing has. We’re no longer living as we did on 9/12/2001. We’re not concerned with our neighbors and working together and being kind to each other. We’re back to 9/10/2001, where we care more about the marriage of celebrities than the well-being of neighbors. And I’m the least political person and I don’t want to start, but we’re the exact opposite of bipartisan politics. We have more hoops to jump through to get on a plane, or across a border.
But this weekend, on this anniversary, I feel like we may not be that far from the goodness of those days afterwards. September 11 is now a day of service across the country. Later this morning, my church is having a service that includes an extra-dose of fellowship in the way that Lutherans do it best- a potluck. We’re taking a moment to remember that day; the darkest day that I’ve lived through and turning it into a day in which we care about our fellow human beings.
None of us that lived that day will ever forget. Those of us that were far enough removed from that day have moved on. We don’t think about it every day. And that’s okay. We’re supposed to do that. But we can’t forget it. I don’t think I can. I don’t think anyone who lived through that September day could. And that’s the point. We aren’t meant to forget these things. We’re meant to remember, reflect and learn.
Today, take a moment to remember. Remember the people, the 2,958 who died and the 6,000+ who were injured and their families. Remember the brave men and women who went into the buildings when so many were coming out. Remember that day.
It is impossible to fully comprehend the evil that would have conjured up such a cowardly and depraved assault upon thousands of innocent people. – Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chretien, Sept. 11 2001
I took an unintended vacation from blogging. It’s amazing how one skip day can cause you never get back to it. I will “go back” and fill in the missing dates for PostAWeek soon.
I do have some news. If you’ve been following my journey for a while now, you know I’ve had a rough year, trying to find a job. In fact, the last skip day was caused by a(nother) “no” for a job that caused a meltdown and trying to figure out what else I wanted to do with my life. Which is hard because PR is what I’ve wanted to do for so long that I couldn’t come up with a backup. I can’t get into nursing because bodily fluid gross me out when they’re my own. I can’t imagine dealing with someone elses. And teaching was out, because sadly, I don’t have the patience for it. And I couldn’t come up with ANY OTHER OPTIONS.
But now, I can see clearly now the rain is gone/there’s a light at the end of the tunnel/I can see land/some other metaphor for “there’s some hope and I can see it now.” I have a job. Well kind of. It’s an unpaid internship. But I get to work from home (I don’t have to get out of my workout clothes. I can be like Heather Armstrong.) and it’s SOMETHING. Which is better than nothing.
In my weeks of exile from the blog, I also discovered I like making scones (and for half a second thought about making that my job). And cooking. And baking other things and for kicks and giggles I just got the Jeni’s At Home book and a new ice cream maker. So I’m thinking about doing a food blog,. Which everyone has, but it’s a place to talk about the stuff I make. I’m deciding on the particulars now and wouldn’t be surprised if it ends up on tumblr instead of wordpress because tumblr is my favorite for mainly pictures. And I have to decide if I want to do a Julie/Julia-style blog with the Jeni’s book or just a general blog. OR just do a food category on here. If you’re reading this and have any opinions, share them! Please!
And on that note, I’ll be back on Friday to reboot PostAWeek. I promise.
(I’m a day late on this, but I totally forgot that it was Monday. Whoops. It may have been due to the lack of sleep I had over the weekend with the combination of Friday’s early morning and Sunday’s late night.)
Sunday night, I was sitting with my parents, watching TV, when news broke that President Obama was going to address the nation at 10:30, with no further details. I got a little nervous. A little while later, it was announced that the statement was in relations to national security. And the pit in my stomach consumed me and it was all I could do to not have a full-on panic attack.
And then, speculative tweets started rolling in. The statement didn’t have anything to do with Libya or Donald Trump or even aliens. It was news that Americans had waited almost nine years and eight months to hear.
Osama Bin Laden was dead.
I have never killed any one, but I have read some obituary notices with great satisfaction. -Clarence Darrow
I don’t know how to better describe my feelings over the death of Osama Bin Laden in any other way. I know it doesn’t fix anything in the long run. There are a thousand more out there just like him.
But then there’s the sense of justice. I was only 13 years old when Osama Bin Laden changed the landscape of America forever. I don’t really remember what it was like before that September day. I’ve stood near the edge of the crater in Manatthan and tried to understand the scope of what happened that day.
And tried to remember what life was like before. Before we worried about someone taking a plane filled with Americans and flying it into buildings filled with Americans. Or trying to blow up their underwear or shoes. Where colors weren’t associated with threat levels.
It’s a fuzzy, barely there memory.
Osama Bin Laden took that from us.
And in that, I take great pleasure in reading his obituary.
It only seems fitting that this song is my late Music Monday entry.
Roads...which one will I take? 