Today - this weekend - a lot of us are spending time thinking back to our lives and where we were when the Twin Towers fell. It's hard to believe that it was ten years ago, many of us say. It seems like we were gathered in the streets staring up at the sky, mouths agape, just yesterday. And then again, it seems that it has taken ten years to come to grips with what happened.
Most of what I remember was an overwhelming loss of innocence. Gone was the privilege of being removed from war. The threat and reality of violence now right in front of my face. I knew that others in the world were surrounded by such drastic and terrifying events regularly. I could never quite imagine it until it happened here in New York City. Our "invincibility" had been stripped.
I remember the shock. As soon as we got word of what had happened, a couple of co-workers and I ran down to street level and saw people gathered in the streets. Watching the towers from 27th and 6th. Packing into small delis that had tvs. Desperate to make meaning of what had just occurred. We talked about feeling numb. Not quite grasping what all of this meant yet. We struggled to reach loved ones as everyone started to occupy phone lines. Checking in on family and friends, or making exit strategies out of the city.
I remember both the hatred and the nationalism that spread in this country. The assumptions that angry/fearful Americans made about our Muslim brothers and sisters (people talked about a feeling of camaraderie, but it wasn't a true feeling to me, since I had Muslim friends who were not a part of that camaraderie, American or not. To me, it felt more like a banding together in order to shut out and go up against the "enemy"). There were American flags everywhere - in store fronts, as stickers placed on dividers in taxis, on windows in apartment buildings. Stars and stripes as shields.
I remember the fear and the obsession with what had occurred. I was teaching art in public schools a few months later, and regardless of the assignments I gave, my students drew pictures of planes and the twin towers; or smoke coming out of the twin towers. Over and over. Over and over. Hundreds of pictures on printer paper. They worked out this unimaginable event through crayons and scented markers.
I remember the sadness. People trying to find those they had lost through posters plastered on the tiled walls in subway entrances everywhere. Hoping that there was still a chance for re-connection. Flowers in the street. Memorials of wreaths and candles in front of fire houses.
I also remember the big reminder that life is not a game. It's not something to be squandered or taken for granted. Life is to be cherished, appreciated. Life is to be lived.
I think it's very easy (especially when you are young - I was 24) to feel invincible. Like nothing can hurt you. Like life never ends. I remember having a very different sort of consciousness about life after 9/11. Forefront of my mind was the idea that life could be short. Life could be taken at any time, so why not live? Do the things that I wanted to do, blast through fears, tell people whom I loved that I loved them. It was a huge lesson to be in tune with life.
I'm in agreement with my blogger friend, Fatemah Fakhraie, that it's not possible to forget such an event, so it's about moving forward. And so, I hope that as we continue to move on from 9/11, we will take with us the lessons about life and remind ourselves over and over to be in tune with life. To be present and to live the best lives we can, while we can.
I remember the shock. As soon as we got word of what had happened, a couple of co-workers and I ran down to street level and saw people gathered in the streets. Watching the towers from 27th and 6th. Packing into small delis that had tvs. Desperate to make meaning of what had just occurred. We talked about feeling numb. Not quite grasping what all of this meant yet. We struggled to reach loved ones as everyone started to occupy phone lines. Checking in on family and friends, or making exit strategies out of the city.
I remember both the hatred and the nationalism that spread in this country. The assumptions that angry/fearful Americans made about our Muslim brothers and sisters (people talked about a feeling of camaraderie, but it wasn't a true feeling to me, since I had Muslim friends who were not a part of that camaraderie, American or not. To me, it felt more like a banding together in order to shut out and go up against the "enemy"). There were American flags everywhere - in store fronts, as stickers placed on dividers in taxis, on windows in apartment buildings. Stars and stripes as shields.
I remember the fear and the obsession with what had occurred. I was teaching art in public schools a few months later, and regardless of the assignments I gave, my students drew pictures of planes and the twin towers; or smoke coming out of the twin towers. Over and over. Over and over. Hundreds of pictures on printer paper. They worked out this unimaginable event through crayons and scented markers.
I remember the sadness. People trying to find those they had lost through posters plastered on the tiled walls in subway entrances everywhere. Hoping that there was still a chance for re-connection. Flowers in the street. Memorials of wreaths and candles in front of fire houses.
I also remember the big reminder that life is not a game. It's not something to be squandered or taken for granted. Life is to be cherished, appreciated. Life is to be lived.
I think it's very easy (especially when you are young - I was 24) to feel invincible. Like nothing can hurt you. Like life never ends. I remember having a very different sort of consciousness about life after 9/11. Forefront of my mind was the idea that life could be short. Life could be taken at any time, so why not live? Do the things that I wanted to do, blast through fears, tell people whom I loved that I loved them. It was a huge lesson to be in tune with life.
I'm in agreement with my blogger friend, Fatemah Fakhraie, that it's not possible to forget such an event, so it's about moving forward. And so, I hope that as we continue to move on from 9/11, we will take with us the lessons about life and remind ourselves over and over to be in tune with life. To be present and to live the best lives we can, while we can.
I had to change trains above ground on Saturday at the World Trade Center site. The thing I wish that we took away from 9/11 that I feel we don't talk enough about is how these things happen all over the world all of the time and we, as a country, are often at the center of the violence. I think that moving on means acknowledging our part in the perpetuation of the world and how it is evolving, and hopefully being apart of making it better each day.
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