From the Mouth's of Babes: A September 11th Rememberance
Posted: Thursday, September 11, 2008
by Sarah Bryson
As an outsider peering in, it's hard to believe that seven years have passed since the fateful morning of September 11, 2001. For the families affected intimately by that morning, I'm sure the passage of time has been skewed in a way that only they know. As I sat in my favorite chair, watching the news and drinking my coffee this morning, I was reminded of how similar this morning had been to that morning seven years ago. The children are older and my husband no longer works days and the cigarette is no longer perched between my fingertips, but for the most part, life as it was then has continued on. In writing this, I dusted off my old journal from 2001 and revisited that day that changed all of the United States forever.
Tuesday, September 11, 2001
I awoke at 6:30 in the morning. The day started as any other day. I woke, showered, dried my hair, brushed my teeth and got my son ready for school. We fought over whether or not he would eat oatmeal for breakfast. He picked on his little sister. He smeared oatmeal all over his clothes. He needed to be changed and washed up. Time was flying by and my son was going to be late for school if we didn't leave in exactly 3 minutes. My husband was going to be late for work unless he had invented a time machine to transport himself 15 minutes into the past. I was quickly losing my patience and in the end I yelled at my son, my daughter and my husband. Off to work went my husband. We made it to my son's school only five minutes late. Upon arriving home, I sent my daughter to her room to play for a little while. More or less, it was a normal day. Little did I know, it would become a day, forever burned into my memory. I sat in horror as I watched the events that had been unfolding all morning. Events that were changing thousands upon thousands of people's lives. Wrapped up in my own little world that morning, I had been totally oblivious to the tragedy that had been occurring. The World Trade Center hit by terrorists. The Pentagon hit by terrorists. The news of a plane crash in Pennsylvania, suspected of being occupied by terrorists. People jumping from windows in desperation. The two bohemoth World Trade Centers crumbling, falling to the ground. With tears of great sadness and this immense feeling of shock , I wondered how and what would I tell my children. Not only on this day, but in the years to come. As I reached for my cup of coffee, that had been forgotten until then, I realized it was cold and it was a coldness I felt right down to my very core.
Then I thought some more. I thought of all of the peaceful people from the Middle East living in this country. I knew they would share in the blame for this action taken by a few fanatics, and I knew it was wrong. I knew this was something my kids would have to be taught. I also knew that there would be various people around them, especially my school age son, who would be trying to convince him that all Muslims were to be blamed.
Once again, my thoughts switched. I thought of my husband. I had fought with him that morning. How many other spouses and parents and so on had fought with their loved ones that morning? How many of them had loved ones who would no longer be there in body, but only in spirit and memory? How many children no longer had parents? How many couples would now be seperated by death? I had no answers.
When my son arrived home, he knew something was wrong. He had felt it at school, where the administration made the decision to not discuss what had happened that morning. We sat down and watched the news together. When they announced they would be showing the plane crashing into the second tower, I had a split second decision to make. Would I allow him to watch or turn the channel?
As my son watched the plane crash into the tower, I watched him. His first reaction was "cool, just like a movie", it then quickly dawned on him that there were people in those buildings. "Mom," he said,"there were moms and dads in there. Wasn't there?" I could see he was hoping there wasn't, but I gently told him that yes, there was. As tears filled his eyes, he had one question, "Why?" It's a question still being asked to this day.
I explained that these were "bad people who like to scare others." That answer was enough for the time being. After school the following day, he came home saying the words I knew I would eventually hear.
"We need to kill all these people. What they did was wrong. Why are they in our country anyway?"
I told him that yes, it was wrong, but not everyone of that race or religion felt the same way. The people that did this were a very few individuals. I went on to explain that they are in our country because we are very fortunate to have the freedoms that we do and where they used to live was not a good place, so they moved here.
"Dylan says we are Americans, mom and that they aren't. If they aren't, then why are they here ?"
"Well", I said,"yes, you are an American, but so are they. They may not all have been born here, but that doesn't mean they aren't as American as you are."
"An American", I say, "is someone that lives in this country and goes to school in this country and works in this country. They like living here as much as you and I do and want to protect others in this country, just like you and I do."
"Well, Dylan's wrong then, because they are Americans, too. I don't think I want to play with Dylan because he's not very nice right now."
As I watched my son run off to play, I knew that the world was ok and that we as a nation and a world would come together one day. I just hoped that it would be within my children's lifetime.
That night, as I tucked my son into bed, he told me he'd been thinking and he thought most people in the world were "nice and cool and great." and I knew that he was right. Leave it to a five year old to see the truth! From the mouths of babes, so to speak.
So, here it is seven years later. We have an African American running for president and a woman is running for Vice President. A war that started in October, 2002, still rages on. Bin Laden is still out roaming a mountainside somewhere and those memorials to honor those killed on 9/11, are still waiting to be built in New York and Pennsylvania. Deep down, I honestly believe that most of my fellow human beings are good. I don't live with rose colored glasses though and I am far from naive.
The one thing that I have taken away with me from the last seven years, is that children need to be reassured of their parents love and that while there are evil people out there, most are good, decent people. Children need to be taught peace, empathy and understanding. Toleration is the greatest gift we will ever be able to give our children. It is a gift that's free and crosses all boundries and borders. Rich, poor, young or old, toleration is a gift that will last a lifetime.
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