On September 11, 2001, I was sitting in my second grade class at Forest Lake Elementary School in Wantagh, Long Island. My teacher, Mrs. Mullarkey, looked as if she had just seen a ghost. Even in second grade, I knew that look meant trouble. When the teachers weren’t allowed to tell us what was going on, yet kept repeating “today will forever be remembered,” panic set in.
The teachers dismissed us outside like a regular day, yet I realized that something was different; the teachers had to make sure that each kid had a parent or relative to go home to. At the time, I didn’t know why it was such an issue if a kid’s parent wasn’t present. Little did I know, some of my schoolmates’ parents or relatives would never return to that school to pick their children up.
Growing up on Long Island, it’s common to have parents who work in the city. About forty-five minutes away by train, my elementary school was filled with parents who commuted each day to the big apple- one being my mom. A regular commuter who usually took the train in every day, my mom decided to work from home that day. When I walked into my house and saw my mom, watching the Twin Towers starting to collapse, with tears in her eyes, I couldn’t understand it. Isn’t that New York City? The city I know as my own backyard?
I couldn’t believe how close I felt to the city that day- like I could taste, breathe, and smell the smoke- yet it felt so unreal and far away. When the two planes, hijacked by al-Qaeda terrorists, sent the World Trade Center plummeting to its demise, the whole world was affected. Everyone knew someone; and those who didn’t still ached for the three thousand innocent people who never made it home that day. A firefighter, a World Trade Center employee, a New York or New Jersey resident, a paramedic, a police officer, a mom, a dad, a son… it didn’t matter what they were – that day, they were are all heroes.
Every anniversary, they have a memorial in which they read the names of those that were lost, in remembrance of their lives. Each year, I sit and listen for the names I know, to pay my respects and to remember. Our elementary school suffered devastating losses: uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, and fathers. As a community, we were there for each other.
Just four days after the attacks, my annual school car wash, in which we were to raise money for the graduating class, had been previously scheduled months in advance. After much debate, the car wash was to go on. Decorated in memoriam for the tragic event with American flags and posters, the car wash brought in so many customers. People would pay one hundred dollars in return for one of our, small, handheld American flags. In that moment, I was proud to live in New York, and to say that despite how close to home the World Trade Center attacks felt, we were all able to come together in the community, and with the rest of the world, to grieve and remember the fallen angels of that day.
September 11, 2001 is a day that will stay with all of us forever. Every time I’m in New York City, I can’t help but envision the puffs of smoke engulfing the city. I think about the kids from my school that lost family, and the people worldwide who had their loved ones taken away from them. September 11 is something that from stranger to stranger and from friends to family, we will all share together. Eleven years later, let the lost heroes of 9/11 never be forgotten.
http://thoughtsfromatexan.com/blog/9-11-never-forget/
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