Lessons From 9/11

“A generation which ignores history has no past—and no future.”

—Robert A. Heinlein

My memory, like many I suppose, is a finicky thing. There are days where I struggle to remember the correct date or remember a person’s name. And then there are other days where I can recall staying the night at my third grade best friend’s house and playing Aladdin on the Sega Genesis. Then there are times where it seems like I am riding both tracks—where the memory is clear but some of the details are muddy. However, there is one memory in particular I will never forget.

September 11, 2001 started like any other Tuesday my sophomore year of high school. I wadded through my morning classes, which included English and geometry. After third period I went to the cafeteria where I wolfed down a quick lunch before rolling off to fourth period orchestra. I walked toward the band room, opening the door to the instrument room where I placed my violin every morning.

“You won’t need that,” said Chris, one my fellow orchestra members. “Ms. K wants us to head to the class as soon as we can.”

Odd. This was my second year with Ms. K as our conductor, and like most heads of any assemble she rarely had us meet without our instruments in hand. I shrugged and put my violin back on the shelf. A day off, cool. It wasn’t like we were preparing to play any recitals or in Festival yet given the school year had only started a few weeks ago. But it was still strange, and it became stranger when we entered the classroom.

Classroom was a relative term for us back then. Unlike our band counterparts, orchestra members did not have a “dedicated” classroom in which to rehearse. Instead we practiced inside the school’s theater room, on the stage. But on this day that was not the case. A single metal chair stood on the stage. Ms. K sat in it and instructed us as we came in to take a seat in the first row of the theater.

“I have some news,” she started.

We sat there eager to hear what she had to say. Maybe she had started picking out our first concert pieces. Maybe we were going to have the chance to play the theme from Harry Potter like they were playing in band.

She took in a deep breath and then said, “Earlier this morning the World Trade Center towers were hit by planes. At first it was thought to be an accident, but we now know it’s an act of terrorism.”

Immediately we started to ask questions, looking back and forth at each other and chattering as teenagers do. She let us go on that way for a few moments and then held up her hand. Well trained to follow her silent commands we quieted. Then she hits us with the hardest truth. Not only had the towers be struck they had also collapsed.

I remember heading to fifth period, history ironically, trying to take in this new information. When I got to class Mr. Carlson was looking at the TV screen. I took my seat without saying a word, watching as black smoke billowed from both towers like dark flags. Banners were running at the top and the bottom of the screen. As we watched I learned that the Pentagon had also been struck, and that a third plane had crashed in the middle of a field somewhere in Pennsylvania.

I also learned that was not the end to the horrors that day.

The TV continued to play video of the burning towers. Soon we noticed tiny, black dots flying off the buildings.

“Mr. Carlson, what’s that coming out of the towers?” asked one girl. “Is that debris?”

A long pause, and then he said, “No. Those were people trapped inside.”

I didn’t think it was possible but somehow the classroom got even quieter. .We just sat and watched in horrified silence as the news cycled through video of burning Towers, people falling to their deaths and eventually the buildings’ collapse. We saw the plum of white dust, a mixture of crushed concrete, insulation and who knows what else, barreling down the streets of New York City and engulf everything in its wake.

Later that day and in the weeks that followed we learned of the details of the attacks. About Flight 93 and the sacrifice made by those onboard to prevent the plane from hitting its intended target. We heard of the heroic efforts of first responders digging and searching for survivors underneath all the rubble. We watched as the identity of our attackers was made known. A group called Al-Qaeda from Afghanistan claimed responsibility, and we saw as many applauded, and cheered and waved their country’s flag in celebration of the attacks.

“How can people hate so much?” I remember my mom asking.

I still have no response.

It’s been 20 years since then, and the memory of that day is still clear as ever. But as I reflect on this anniversary day, I have come to realize other lessons that I have learned.

An expanded world view

Until that Tuesday I had never heard of Afghanistan. I knew nothing of its history. If asked to point it out on a map I would be hopelessly lost. I can’t say I can point the country out with laser-focused accuracy, but I do know where about the country is located, and I know more about the motivations of groups like Al-Qaeda, the Taliban and the Islamic State.

As a 15-year-old my world consisted of Southwest Michigan, Detroit (go Red Wings!) and Chicago. But after the attacks….my world opened. Since then I’ve spent time researching the Middle East. I learned about the Gulf War, looked up Osama bin Laden, and learned about our conflicted history with Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran and others in that region.

My world further expanded a few short years after the attacks, as I was called to be a missionary in South America. But I’ve never forgotten how things opened a little bit more for me that day in school. How I had the opportunity to see a moment in history unfold before me. We all could do well to remember that there is a bigger world outside our window. That, even though we occupy a small portion of that world, still contribute to it and influence it in some way.

Guided the way to a future career

In a very indirect way, I have to say 9/11 led me to my current career as a journalist. After the attacks and after the start of the war in Iraq, I began to listen to the news more and more. I listened to talk radio, I watched Dateline and 60 Minutes and other similar programs to get the latest news on our military efforts. I wanted to be informed. I wanted to be “in-the-know”. I learned the value of being an informed citizen and knowing what was going on “over there”.

I think more of us should work on that. While my profession is struggling to get out of the way of reporters’ egos and clickbait news and false facts, there are some news outlets—local newspapers and TV and radio stations—that adhere to bygone principles like objectivity and fact-finding.

I hope one day there will be more journalist looking to inform society of what is going on around them instead of interjecting their opinion into every story they tell. I hope one day the public can trust the media in telling them like it is. It may be a distant dream that will never come true, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hope.

Time moves on and we must strive to remember

When explaining her memory of 9/11 to our children, my wife put it perfectly. “It was a moment where the whole world stood still and watched.” She’s right. There wasn’t much talk on the way home that day. Any conversations held were about the attacks and nothing else. In the air it felt like someone had hit a mute button and we were all just sitting in silence.

For a short while the world did indeed pause that day, but time did not stay still.

Time never slows, no matter how badly we want it too. That’s why learning and remembering our history is so vital. I’ve come to understand that if we don’t remember such events, if we don’t share the stories and make them available to future generations then we lose the lessons taught to us by them. For a time we came together as a country. There was no separation of race, religion or even statehood. We were all Americans and we were all suffering from this event. First responders from other states flocked to help those in New York in their search and rescue efforts. A psychology professor I had in college told us that she and other licensed shrinks went to help those at ground zero cope with the violence and carnage they saw that day and the days that followed.

Across the country we listened to President George W. Bush declare war on Al-Qaeda and on terrorism. Eventually that opened up a bounty on bin Laden’s head. We wanted retribution and we wanted it right then and there. Our people had been hurt on a catastrophic level for only the second time in our history. And just like after the attack at Pearl Harbor, we wanted to send a message that we would not stay down after such a beating.

But we’ve forgotten that in these last 20 years. We are divided on multiple levels, from politics to skin color and sexual orientation to our current job status. We don’t pull together like we did then. Instead we look to tear one another down and give in to false facts. We are quick to anger when someone disagrees with us or stands up for their beliefs. Hopefully, we can one day learn to come together again.

Today is a day where we memorialize those lost in the 9/11 attacks. It is a day where we honor those who risked their lives to save others, who were there at ground zero. I’m glad we are still make an effort to remember after all of these years. By keeping the memory of that day alive we are less likely to let similar attach happen again.

For those of us who lived through Sept. 11, 2001, I hope we take time out of our day to remember. Remember where we were, what we were doing, who we were with. I hope we try hard to remember what it felt like to be one nation and maybe try to relive that by putting our differences aside—even for just a few hours if not the entire day. I hope we can say a prayer for Muslims that have had nothing to do with the lives lost that day and yet face persecution because the men responsible for so much blood shed twisted and corrupted their beliefs to justify their actions.

My biggest hope is that we take time to tune in to some of the broadcasted memorials and share them with our children and grandchildren so that they can understand the significance of this day. To help them understand that history isn’t for the dead but for the living. That knowing what has happened before will help better the future ahead.