Seven years ago today I was a Junior in high school. I was walking from Spanish to Choir and heard a murmur in the halls. Something had happened. I didn't find out the true extent until I got to Choir and we got an update from the directors. We didn't practice that day. I got a note from the office to call my mom. I had never gotten one of those fun papers and I would never get one again. My mom saved phone calls to home for important, world-altering events apparently. I called my mom from the choir office. She told me that she couldn't get through to anyone on Staten Island. We found out later that no calls could be put in to the city at all. It was a tense afternoon praying that everyone we love the most was safe. I have two police uncles that could have been in the middle of things. I also knew every aunt and uncle of mine had friends who works in Manhattan. This would affect us all. Finally we got a call from my grandparents (I think) and we knew that our family was spared. It was an afternoon that no one from here could understand. New York is too far away for most to even care about. I cared. I finally got up there a year later for my Great-Grandmother's 90th birthday. I finally saw Ground Zero. You can't speak when you're at Ground Zero. It's a spiritual place. So many people took their last breath inside that city block. So, today, I hope that everyone stops and remembers. Please, remember where you were when you found out. Remember all those people who lost their lives. Remember so one day you can tell your children. We cannot forget.
Where were you? Are you remembering today? I am.
1 comment:
I'm remembering too, Sar. I'm remembering all those times I took my college friends, who would be visiting me over vacations, to the top of the World Trade Towers. The elevator ride alone used to freak me out because it went so fast, and my stomach never seemed to catch up! The view from the top was amazing. I felt so proud of the place where I had grown up and liked showing it off to people. I remember (of course) that time we didn't go to the top because we were in a rush to get on the subway and get to the Mets game. Keith will never let me forget that one! And I remember that day...calling you and Keith at school. Not truly believing what was happening. Worrying about our family members. And later finding out that Uncle Joe's very good friend, a fire fighter out of Red Hook, Brooklyn, had been killed there. I miss those towers.
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