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I wasn’t sure if I was going post about this today. It’s such a hard day for America, and it’s one of those situations where I just feel compelled to let the day pass by without adding fuel to the fire. However, Deb Ng at Freelance Writing Jobs posted a piece today that inspired me to write a post as well. My heart truly goes out to the families and victims of the terrorist attacks, and I wanted to share three stories.

The first story, of course, is “where were you”, because, as one person pointed out on Deb’s site, it’s like the Kennedy Assassination of our generation. You will always remember where you were. I was in high school. It was my junior year and our business teacher had signed some of my friends and I up for a program called “Building Leaders.” Once a month, we’d meet with other students from neighboring schools and do leadership activities, go on field trips, etc. Our first meeting of the school year was on September 11. We spent the day in a park, meeting one another and doing silly, stupid things like the human knot game. The lady who ran the program got the call very quickly and she made the worst decision possible - not to tell us. She decided that it would be a distraction to her program and she would instead tell us at the end of our day.

What right did she have. WHAT RIGHT? When we found out, one of the boys in the group started sobbing. He dad worked in the towers and all day, while he did “getting to know you” activities, his family had been trying to reach him. He didn’t come back the next month. I don’t know if his dad made it or not, but I like to think that he did and that he told his son to screw this stupid Building Leaders program. In any case, I didn’t find out about the terrorist attacks until about 2 PM that day. I was wearing a graphic t-shirt that read “I love New York”.

My second story isn’t really mine. I heard it from someone. I meet many, many people as a freelance writer, and met even more as a college student. Maybe I heard this on TV. Maybe it’s urban legend. I simply don’t remember who told me this story. I wish I did. If it was you, please let me know. In any case, it touched me.

The person was sitting in his/her office in LA about to do a teleconference with their sister office in New York. These people had the office right where the first plane hit. Everything during the meeting was going well, when suddenly they heard a loud noise and the screen went blank. They frantically tried to figure out what was happening in New York to cause a power outage, but they couldn’t get anyone from their office on the phone - not even on the cell phone. Finally one message came through from New York from the dozens of “What’s happening?” messages that were sent. Three words:

“We are dying.”

Lastly, I just want to note that this is an especially rough day for my boyfriend’s family. His sister was living in New York at the time and her husband worked in the Towers. When the first plane hit, everyone was told to sit tight, even as smoke came pouring through the vents. Having a bad case of asthma, her husband decided to go against the advice and leave because the smoke would bring on an attack. He was the only one from his office to make it out, as the Towers tumbled soon after. I have to admit that I’m not 100% sure I got the story right. I haven’t talked to him about it. I want to talk to him about it, someday. I want to hear his story. But now, it’s too soon. It may always be too soon.

The survivors today are scattered around the world. Some remained in New York to pick up the pieces. For others, that was simply too hard. People have lost friends, spouses, fathers, mothers, children. People born on this date have lost the ability to ever truly celebrate their birthday in complete happiness. People who were just children on this date grew up. The terrorist robbed us of more than some buildings and more even than the hundreds of lives taken that day. They robbed the whole country and created a crusade out of anger.

There’s one song in particular about the day that says “We’ll put a boot in your ass, it’s the American way.” And while I agree that action needed to be taken, it makes me pray that “putting a boot in their ass” isn’t the end result of all of this. I still hope for peace. I still hope for a better tomorrow.

On a special ending note, I’d like to give my full support for our troops who are still dying for “the American way.” These men and women are doing what they think is best to keep our country safe, and although I don’t always agree, I do feel honored that my liberties are so important to other people. In particular, two of my friends - Paul and Andy - are soon leaving to go to the Middle East. I pray for their safety and that I will be able to welcome them home safely someday.