Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Reflections on the Past -- 9/11

I have noticed that through the television year, channels periodically seem to run series of programs dealing with momentous events, whether or not they are close to the actual date of the event. The assassination of JFK may have occurred in November but usually sometime during the spring or early summer, television channels rerun just about every program and documentary ever made on the subject. D-day and the end of WWII may get airings somewhere around Christmas while programs on the devastation of Katrina might appear in February or so. Stories about the Challenger disaster pop up periodically as if daring me to forget the sights, repeated again and again on the screen of all the other tragedies and disasters.

Last night I watched yet another program on 9/11 an the events in New York. Tonight there is a program on the crash into the Pentagon and how it affected not only Washington DC but all of us. Later in the week, I'm sure, will be commemoration of the brave souls in the plane that crashed in a field in Pennsylvania, sparing DC even more damage. This year marks the 10th anniversary of that day that needs no name other than the date, like December 7th or November 22nd. I have a feeling that any person over the age of 3 at the time remembers where they were when they heard about it, what immediate reaction it had on them and what impact it had on their lives.

The program reminded me of how I first learned of the tragedy. It was a normal morning, just like hundreds of others. I woke up, turned on the Today show and there it was -- smoking towers, anxious faces, moments of silence when the newscasters and reporters had no words to describe what they were seeing. The old adage about "It was like watching a train wreck" was certainly applicable. It was hard to stop watching even as I went about doing the normal stuff. Somehow it pulled me back, making me part of it, even though what I saw was happening far, far away from the safety of my Arizona home.

Even after ten years, it feels like a wound being reopened. How can that be? I didn't know anyone who was killed or injured, the place I have the closest association with was at the other end of DC from the Pentagon (which, I know, is in Virginia), and the only real impact that was quite noticeable here was the total silence of the day. Traffic seemed to be almost non-existent on the usually busy street behind our house and the skies showed no trace of contrails or sunlight-reflecting silver planes. The silence was eerie, broken only by momentary panic when an Air Force jet streaked over on patrol or heading back to the base just a few miles away. I think that was the day the last of my innocence died, the innocence that said I lived in a safe place, a safe country, a respected part of the world.

The programs on TV can only mirror what we collectively and individually actually went through that day and in the days following. It's hard not to watch the videos even though I've seen them so often that I have trouble remembering precisely what I saw that day and what I saw on replays. What I will remember, though, is the profound sadness, the momentary skipped heartbeats and breaths held in, the fright, the anger, the sorrow, the shock, the panic, the unreality.

Life went on with the next heartbeat and the next breath, but it would never be the same. Ten years later it still isn't and undoubtedly will never be.

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