The Aftermath - Five Years Later

A warning and an apology. It is not my intention to say that the entry that follows is one felt by all members of ETWA. It is not. It is mine alone. There may be members who believe as I do politically; there are many who don't. I have tried not to pour too much of my political standing into this recollection of September 11, 2001. I just felt the need to reflect on the incidents that transpired that day and some since. I apologize if I offend anyone reading this today. Please feel free to reply to this post as you will. If any members of ETWA wish to post on this same topic with their own memories, point of view, etc., they may contact me, and I will see that their posts are published promptly. kmparis

As I woke this morning my mind went directly to where I was five years ago on this day. It was a Tuesday. The cloud I had floated on since Sunday,after receiving word about the upcoming publication of my first book, still carried me high off the floor. I took my fourth grade class to the music room around 9:30 a.m. on that September 11. As I passed the computer lab, I saw a group of teachers and staff gathered around a TV monitor.

Curious, I stopped on the way back to see what was going on. I never made it to my room that period. I spent the next 45 minutes glued to the TV along with as many of the other staff members as could be away from their posts without abandoning any students. We watched replay after replay as the hijacked jetliners crashed into the World Trade Center in New York and the Pentagon. Then we watched the news broadcasts in Pennsylvania covering the crash of United 93 as terrorists failed in achieving their assigned mission.

The horror of what had happened left me feeling so many emotions - fear, sorrow, shocked disbelief among them. The tears and anger came later. The secure world of the greatest country on Earth had been blown into dust with the collapse of the twin towers.

The question running through my brain was, "What do I say to the 22 students I had to pick up and guide through the remainder of the school day?" In my mind I kept expecting and waiting for the superintendent to issue an order to shut down school for the day. It never came.

It is said you always remember exactly where you were and what you were doing when a tragic event occurs. In my experience, that is true. The assassination of John F. Kennedy, my grandparents' deaths, my father's death, the start of the Gulf War in 1991, the destruction of both the Challenger and Columbia space shuttles, and now 9/11, each event flashes in brilliant technicolor in my mind with unexpected triggers - a smell, a taste, a sound, a picture.

On September 11, 2001 I finally understood what my parents and their ancestors must have felt on December 7, 1941. I had seen numerous movies, read many books, and studied the history of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Now I could feel the pain of those alive on that day. What I felt now was no longer academic sympathy but personal empathy.

The tears came on my drive home that evening. I never did say anything to the class that day. I couldn't. I would have broken down in front of them. The days following lead into weeks of raw pain. Each day it was difficult to get through the morning's opening ceremonies at school; the Pledge of Allegiance caused me to tear up daily. Veterans' Day that November filled the entire building with more emotion than I had ever seen. I did cry during the school's celebration that day, but I was in good company. Most of the adults and many of the children cried along with me.

Five years have passed, but the sharp pain of the devastating destruction on that day was nearly as great this morning as it was in 2001. The sight of President and Mrs. Bush as they placed a wreath on the crash sight in Pennsylvania brought a fresh rush of tears.

What were the long term results of that horrific day? A resurgence of patriotism, a pride in our country that had been missing for decades, more flag waving than I'd ever seen, an awareness of the brevity of life, and a knowledge that we are not exempt from the terrorism of fanatics. Some of these things were positive changes, some negative. Support for the President's war on terrorism, at first so high, has plummeted because it has taken so long to bring it all to an end. Americans, especially, expected a swift, decisive resolution to the surprise attacks on American soil. After all we had marched into Iraq in January, 1991 and by the end of February, 1991 all that remained of the Gulf War was the mop-up. Or so we thought.

The fear of flying after that day has segued from anxiety for our lives into aggravation at the delays and inconveniences as security procedures and restrictions have increased. No longer can we board a plane with a pair of nail clippers in our carry-on luggage. The latest no-nos are liquids and gels. You have to pack any items in those forms in your checked luggage. My question there is, if the lip gloss you carry in your pocket or purse or the gel deodorant in your overnight bag could be an explosive (don't forget that bottle of water in your hand), why is it safer for them to be in the luggage compartment instead of the interior of the plane?

Have the nearly 3,000 murders of innocent bystanders been forgotten by the masses? I hope not. I pray not. Those of us that escaped any direct link to the people killed in the three successful attacks and the one aborted attempt can put the events of that day behind us. After all no one we knew personally was killed. The people who died belonged to someone else. What we must realize is that it could have just as easily been one of us.

I received an email just yesterday pointing out that one man still lives because his son started kindergarten that day and he stayed home from work to take his son to school. Another person is still alive because of a pair of new shoes which caused blisters that made him stop in at a drug store to purchase bandages. There were a number of other such stories in that email. Were they all true? I don't know. I didn't take the time to check the urban legends website for confirmation.

The pain, horror, and determination to never let such an attack happen again should be retained by all of us still living. A sign on a local hamburger chain just up the street from my house said it all to me, simply and concisely - Remember.

kmparis