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Forever 9/11
Before 9/11, people used to ask, “Where were you when the lights went out in 1965?” That question would open the door for the outpouring of oodles of stories. Those stories were about being on a bus or stuck in traffic or waiting in a line or being at work or cooking a meal or reading a book or watching the news when the lights on the Eastern Seaboard went out in November of 1965. Recently, I asked the 9/11 question on Facebook. A young friend remembered the “The Day the Lights Went Out” but in his memory was of the blackout in 2003. Perspective, right? Every adult, of a certain age, remembers where they were when the lights went out. It’s an age thing.
Almost every grownup I know has a story for all/any of those events. And if you’re old, like me, you remember 1965, 9/11 and 2003. While both “Lights Out” events might be fading in your mind, the 9/11 memories are still sharp. In part, the media has kept the 9/11 story alive. Digital videos keep the story alive. On-the-spot news coverage of the day, keeps the story alive. First person experiences, keep the story alive. The hair-raising reality of 9/11 keeps it alive. Some of us actually watched, in real time, as the second plane hit the South Tower. To me, it felt as if time was standing still and all sounds were muffled. Collectively, we held our breath not knowing what, exactly, we were witnessing. We were still gob-smacked when the accounting started to unfold in the moment, the hours and days which followed. 9/11 wasn’t about the food in the freezer thawing or if we had fresh batteries in our flashlights or wondering how we’d get home without traffic lights or if the kids would do their homework in the dark or, even, how long the darkness would last. We didn’t see, as it was unfolding, what happened when the lights went out. But 9/11 was an event filled with real-time horror, death, dread and fear. As real as the in-person accounts were, 9/11 was hard to ignore.
So, where was I on 9/11? It was the end of tourism season and I’d just had an early morning meeting with the boss of my boss. It wasn’t a good meeting. It was a bit laughable, a bit frustrating and a whole lot unfair. It became an “offer” meeting. At the end of the meeting, I offered to clean my desk out and tell my co-workers I was finished. The boss of everyone in the organization wasn’t happy. I wasn’t happy. Yet as the hours passed, that day, my perspective changed. My day was a walk-in-the-park compared to what was going on in New York. I went home and called an OMA colleague for some moral support and a bit of insight into my “offer meeting”. She was quick to answer her phone which wasn’t like her. Before I could ask for her input, she sobbed and told me to turn on the American news. We disconnected. I watched, in horror, as a second plane hit the second tower. It was being broadcast on CBS. It was happening but we didn’t know what “it” was. And then?
And then I have to ask all y’all if you’d ever experienced one of those days when you say, “Well, that’s the third bad thing” and then pray it really is only three bad things that could happen in a day. I was hoping there wouldn’t be three things. And I didn’t actually “pray” but I hoped. I fleetingly thought “Whatever is happening in New York City is so much more than my problem with “the organization” and my pathetic meeting with the boss of bosses. It was so much more than my tiny problem caused by my inability to have an internal dialogue or my penchant for unfiltered comments on wrongdoings. As it turned out, it was so many, many more than three bad things in one day and not one of them was about me. It was all so much more than anything I’d experienced, personally. It wasn’t a good day. It wasn’t a day you could snort away or drink away or dream away or wish away. It was an amazing, awesome (and not in a good way), over-the-top sickening kinda day.
For me, so many emotions are stirred up every, single September 11th. Today, Saturday, I am still transfixed by the news videos I’ve seen at least twenty times before. I’m heartbroken by the replayed audio of the last cell phone calls made to loved ones from those planes and those buildings. I am grief stricken by the loss of lives and the rending of families and relationships. Each year, the reconstruction of the memory of 9/11 is a bit different. I am on the “Forgetting Curve”. Each year, we are reminded of the horror of that day. Each year something of the day is lost forever but a little something of the day is forever remembered.
Today, September 11, 2021, I watched a documentary about the people of Newfoundland who opened their hearts and homes to diverted travellers. The worst day brought out the best in a community of Canadians. Today, September 11th, I am humbled.
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