In every generation, there is a moment that you will always remember. You will remember exactly where you were and what you were doing. And everyone you know will share in that memory. There will be other moments, because that is what history is made of. But no matter how much time has passed, remembering that first one will send a chill up your spine.
For my generation, that moment occurred on November 22, 1963. I was seven. I remember someone coming to talk to my second grade teacher, and that she started to sob. President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas and had died. I remember the assembly that was put together hastily, in the front of the school, so we could all view the flag being lowered to half-mast, and the teacher explaining to us why that was being done. I remember my mom signing me out early. She had been living in this country for less than ten years and where she came from, assassinating the President signaled the start of a revolution. I think she was truly surprised that shooting did not break out in the streets.
My daughter's moment occurred six years ago today, on a remarkably similar morning. Just like now, it was the second day of her second week of a brand new school. Just like today, my clock radio clicked on at 5:00 a.m. and I dozed for an hour to the sounds of "Morning Edition." But as the world knows, September 11, 2001 was a day unlike any other.
The announcement that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center sounded like more of a curiosity than an event that would change the world forever. There wasn't a lot of information yet, so the bulletin stood on its own and the station continued with its usual programming.
Then came word that the second plane had rammed into the other tower. That's when I -- and the world -- realized that this was no accident but a deliberate act of terrorism. I turned on the TV.
And that's when my then 5-year-old daughter woke up. I didn't think to shield her from those horrible images. She saw the buildings on fire. She heard me gasp when the Pentagon was hit. I finally understood how my mom felt back in 1963. I toyed with keeping her home from school, but decided that she needed the day to feel as normal as possible.
I'm grateful that she didn't see the towers collapse. By that time, we were driving to school and only had to hear about it on the radio.
The kindergarten yard was strangely subdued that morning. I don't know how many of the kids knew what had occurred, but all the moms did. You could feel the collective shock. Many of us had only met the previous week, and we were hugging and crying like old friends. There is nothing like a shared tragedy to bring people together.
And we felt the loss, even though we were safely ensconced on the West Coast, 3,000 miles away. As the days passed, many of us discovered that, in a weird Six Degrees way, we had connections to those who died. One friend worked with the husband of one of the plane victims. Another friend knew someone who had worked in the twin towers. Even I had a tenuous connection, having once shared an agent with a television writer who had died in the crash.
People around the world felt our loss. The United States, at that moment in time, had the sympathy and support of the entire Western world and much of the East, as well.
History is a funny thing. When events are occurring, you can't often tell which ones are significant. With this one, you knew. You knew that from this point on, everything was going to be different.
What we didn't know then was HOW. The day the planes hit, the world was on our side, and the President -- who until that time seemed destined to go down in history as the biggest slacker to ever lead our government -- began showing some mettle. The bitterly divided Congress formed a united front. American flags appeared everywhere; on homes, on cars, in windows -- and not in the jingoistic, "God Bless America," "My Country Right or Wrong" way of the Viet Nam era. These flags were displayed as a simple show of remembrance... and support... and defiance against the bastards who planned and committed this crime.
At that moment in time, our government had an opportunity. At first, it looked like we would take it. When we invaded Afghanistan and overthrew the Taliban, the world lended its support. That was justified. When it became apparent that Saudi money has been fueling some of the hatred that gave birth to Al Qaeda, many people realized that our dependence on oil was a problem for more reasons than just global warming (which is reason enough to develop more alternate renewable fuel resources). The American people were ready to help -- to make sacrifices -- to volunteer -- to do whatever it takes.
But this President told us that the best way to help our country was to be good little consumers and keep on charging. And then he turned his attention and most of our resources to a country that was ruled by a tyrant, but had NOTHING to do with 9/11. Instead of emulating FDR, this President emulated Richard Nixon. Actually, that's an insult to Nixon, because while Tricky Dick was secretive and controlling and a liar and spied on his enemies, he didn't run roughshod over the entire citizenry's civil rights. He didn't erode the First Amendment. He didn't condone torture. George W. Bush has done the impossible by making me MISS Richard Nixon.
I'm sorry for the political diatribe. I try to keep my political views out of this blog. But the quagmire in Iraq makes me so angry I don't know what to do. I want us out, I want our soldiers out of harm's way. But I feel we've made a mess of the country and have some obligation to try to put it right. Saddam was a monster, but the hell we've created in that country is a lot worse and more dangerous to more people than it was before we went in and tried to "fix" it.
And if anyone in the military is reading this and feels that by criticizing the war, we are aiding the enemy, I'm very sorry. I don't agree. It is my right as an American to question the decisions of our leaders, and doing so does not equal dissing YOU. I LOVE YOU GUYS. I have nothing but the utmost respect for your courage, commitment and sacrifice to defend our country.That's precisely why I hate this war. Iraq was NOT a threat to our country. You were sent there on trumped up charges, without enough support, on a suicide mission to do... well, I'm not certain what the goal in Iraq really was. But the result has been MORE danger, MORE people sympathizing with the terrorists, and world opinion of America at an all-time low. I want you to come home, safe and healthy and whole and I want our government to honor its commitments to you.
Last week, I received an email from a friend, as part of a campaign to once again display the flag today wherever you deem appropriate. I did not send that email on and I'm not putting the flag up, because I feel that once again, that symbol has been misappropriated.
I also received an invitation to join a General Strike today: to protest the course the government took when it missed its opportunity to do things right. Today's strike means no work, no school and no shopping. They are urging everyone to hit the streets and protest.
Well, I'm a stay at home mom, so there's no employer to strike, and it's not in my child's best interest to keep her out of school today (although I thought about it). Hitting the streets is a lot more do-able in a traditional city (there will be a huge protest today at Ground Zero) -- but not an easy proposition here in the San Fernando Valley. So I'm doing my part by going against the President's wishes and boycotting stores. No shopping, no Starbucks, no gas purchases. It's not much, but if enough people refrain from doing business today, there may be some noticeable impact.
OK. Political diatribe is over and I'll return to the personal:
I was too stunned on 9/11 to do much of anything except watch the coverage, which wasn't all that enlightening. They played the footage of the buildings getting hit and collapsing over and over and over. It should have been numbing, but maybe I was already feeling so numbed that it had no effect. I think that much in the way you do when you watch a movie you know ends sadly, I was watching it hoping that just THIS TIME, there would be a happy ending. But there was no happy ending.
The following day, I finally had the energy to call my family on the phone. I spoke with my grandfather in Florida, and we spoke of the shock and sorrow we both felt.
One day later, my grandfather suffered a massive stroke and passed away the following week. So for me, in addition to the sadness I feel for all of the victims of the terrorist act, 9/11 also signifies the day my grandfather died. Sadness upon sadness. And another moment I'll remember forever.
Like many Americans families, we've taken advantage of this three-day weekend to rest and relax and just enjoy being together.
Today marks the fifth anniversary of the President's orders to invade Iraq.
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