September 11th, 2008

Seven years ago, I watched the world end on national television. When a national tragedy happens, everyone seems to remember where they were, exactly. September 11, 2001, I was a senior in high school - barely three weeks into fall. I didn't even want to think about applying to college. I was sitting in a history elective class. "Vietnam", a history of the war itself. Sitting next to me was Steve Stout. It was taught by Mr. Busarello, who was in his second full year of teaching the class after the teacher who had created it retired. Busarello was a Reagan-loving Republican, a nice guy, a track and field coach, and - contrary to his political affiliations - ultimately didn't agree with how Vietnam was handled. The class ended after 9:00 in the morning, I think. Midway through, my junior year Spanish teacher, Mr. Silver, knocked on the door. He stuck his head inside our classroom, apologized for the interruption, and asked that we turn on the news on the classroom's TV (yes, I went to that kind of high school). Two planes has just flown into The World Trade Center in New York City. It was highly suspected to be an act of terrorism. Eyebrows were raised, but everyone in my class was skeptical. There was shock, but hesitation. Keep in mind: this sounded completely unreal at the time. No one would actually attack America. When the first images of The Twin Towers came onto the screen, I still remember the collective gasp. We were silenced. The scene looked like something out of The Matrix: the hollow guts of The World Trade Center exposed, engulfed in flames, with clouds of black smoke billowing mercilessly from the tops of the buildings.

We were only seventeen years old and we were watching the world end.

An hour later, we stood in the senior lounge of the cafeteria, in front of another TV which had a cable feed. There was confusion. Anger. Sadness. All of us standing around trying to make educated guesses of what was happening. The significance of the date. Had President Bush done something to upset a government (once again, also keep in mind: the general consensus back then was that he was a Gerald Ford-type idiot. Not one to claim Manifest Destiny)? Why was this happening? None of it made sense. It was the first time we, high school students, were exposed to the violent madness that can exist in life. Then - live on TV - the second tower collapsed. I stood frozen: in fear, in awe, in the indescribable. A girl standing next to me asked what had happened. I turned to her and said "The World Trade Center doesn't exist anymore."

It was gone. Permanence was broken. Apocalypse was here.

I was leaving my apartment in Brooklyn last night to go to Manhattan. I was late to an improv rehearsal. I looked in the sky and spotted the Twin Tower spotlights. In the aftermath of 9/11, they installed the lights at Ground Zero and bring them back out again every week of the attack, as a memorial. My first thoughts were "My God, would I have been able to see the World Trade Center from my apartment?" Had I been living where I am now, seven years ago, would I have seen the whole thing happen live, in real time?

Seven years ago, I watched the world end on national television. Except it didn't. The world didn't end. Like the Tom Waits song, the world kept turning. But it never made as much sense after 9/11. Politics have seemed dirtier, wars have seemed less justified, and human arrogance... well, that never made much sense to begin with. I am now twenty-five, and I consider myself an adult. Occasionally, I find myself going back to being that confused prospective college student. I think about how uneasy the country was; how we all wondered if things would ever be the same again. They never have been. But they are never meant to be. When things happen, life changes. We may never really understand any of it, until decades later. Truthfully, some things in life are just too big to understand. But, while our government has left us skeptical - just as that classroom full of students - about what is next, we as a people, and a nation, never forgot. And, we never shall forget. If we can continue to live our lives and enjoy the future, and not become so fearful of the past that we are paralyzed, then we do the dead proud. We do our country proud.

All that is left for us is to pause. One day out of our year, early into the fall - even if for only a minute - and remember. Don't question. Don't dwell. Don't allow ourselves to become overwrought with anger, or sadness. But only remember. And then, move on. Because the dead would want it that way. Because that is what September 11th has become to me. My first real day of remembrance. For my people, and for my country. God bless, America.

9/11/01. Never forget. Rest in peace.