A Day in the Life

I woke today feeling a little more emotional than normal (and I'm an emotional broad).  Then someone reminded me of the date.

I'm not sure if that was affecting my mood subconsciously, but it's definitely at the forefront of my mind now.  My memory is, as my best friend has several times said, a steel trap.  I can tell you details from events that nobody should remember.  Not least of all, every detail from September 11th, 2001.

I was in college at the time (remember my rule about age calculation please), in biology class waiting for my teacher.  Honestly, I don't remember his name, but I remember I liked him a great deal.  Late 40s, always happy, always stoked about biology.  He always came into class smiling, but not that day.  He broke the news to us that two planes had struck the towers and nobody was sure what was happening.  My next class was Sociology and this is my first truly scary memory of the day.  The instant hate toward people different than us, from the people who were supposed to represent our country's future.  For me, that was scarier than what was happening in NYC.  Could we be so easily ready to write off anyone with a different skin color or religious belief?  So easy to lump together extremists with anyone of Middle Eastern descent or Muslim background?  So ready for a witch hunt?  Apparently, we could be...and still are, 10 years later.

I remember leaving class, driving home, listening to the live coverage on the radio, and pulling over on the highway and crying.  Crying hard and for the first time that day.  I think that's the moment that the weight of 9/11 really connected for me.  I went home, turned on the news and watched footage of a man jumping to his death.  I suppose for him, that was a better way to go than waiting for the building to collapse upon him.  I remember watching President Bush address the country.  I didn't vote for him, either time, but on that day, I was proud of him.  If on no other day in his presidency, on that day he was a leader.

I was teaching dance at the time and the studio owner decided to hold classes.  She wasn't sure anyone would show up but wanted to give them the option.  Students were there, but their hearts weren't in it.  Even my youngest students felt the sadness of the day. 

I worry now that nothing has changed.  I worry that our country has become more divided in a time when we should be most united.  I worry that people are preaching hate and claiming to do so in God's name.  I worry that we've learned nothing from this tragedy.

Today, I am thinking of the firefighters and police officers who responded that day, the volunteers who helped, the people we lost and those still living with memories of loved ones lost.

I remain hopeful we will come together and honor their memory.  I remain hopeful that we can become an even greater country.  One that doesn't judge based on religion, ethnicity, or any difference.  I remain hopeful that we can become better.  I hope that we will and I believe that we can.

Love to my friends, family and NYC.

Melissa