Today is September 11, 2026. A date anyone who lived through it will never forget, a date to the yet unborn must always be taught.
On September 11, 2001, it was a remarkably beautiful late summer day, the sky uncommonly blue with nary a cloud. I was a mother of two with only one thought on my mind; today was my first child’s day of preschool. I excitedly got little Steven ready, no radio or TV on, when my Mom called me.
“Is your TV on?”
“No, why?”
“Planes have hit the World Trade Center.”
“Planes hit what??”
Steven’s radar ears perked up. “What plane, Mommy?”
I made a quick fib to him and moved to a different room. ‘Nana’s watching a movie, just eat your breakfast.”
I went to my bedroom and Mom explained the whole thing. It was so bizarre. So unreal. Reality crashed into our little world. I was in shock, but I had to keep going. I told Mom I’d see her shortly, as her home was down the street from the preschool. I packed up Steve and baby Matt.
When I dropped Steve off, it was so unlike what I expected from what I thought the first day of preschool would be. The kids were scheduled for only an hour as an orientation, and all the attendants were quietly smiling and nodding, taking care not to acknowledge the reality outside this little bubble. I hugged my son probably a little longer than usual, then left to see my Mom.
When I got there, I saw the first images of the event; looping footage of planes hitting both towers, then the famous second tower with its giant antenna collapsing into itself, in clouds of toxic smoke. I couldn’t even imagine the chaos of the moment for all of Manhattan’s people. A video surfaced of a woman who was called into a bodega just seconds before an ungodly wash of debris flowed across the bodega’s doorway. The woman cried to the owner: “Oh my God, oh my God, you just saved my life, thank you, Thank you!”
Mom and I hugged then talked a bit. I wanted to visit our friend Flo next door, who was born in Lower Manhattan. Poor Flo, she was devastated. “That’s my home town!” she sighed as we watched the endless footage. I wanted to turn the TV off, but Flo always kept hers on. I just held her.
Back at Mom’s, there was tea ready, although I only had about 20 minutes to stay as I had to get Steve. Mom advised me to not tell Steve about it, and knew that would be best. Even when Greg came home from work for lunch, we kept the TV off upstairs. Greg stayed home the rest of the day, and watched coverage in the basement. I only watched a bit when Steve was napping, but it was so devastating it was hard to keep on. The skies became eerily empty for the next few days. Although the expression has become overused, it was a truly a surreal moment in time.
The worst emotional response that resulted from 9/11 was the almost instant racism against anyone who was Muslim or who appeared to be of the Middle East origin. My doctor was a Sikh, and I was concerned for his safety because in this hyper-sensitive new world, his turban might be seen as a threat by anyone not familiar with his faith. (Thankfully he had no problems). Even so, I started to see this conception of “The Other” become more commonplace. This only got worse in the convening years, with a division in America which is now as far from the ideal world of Star Trek we imagined what it could be.
But I still believe there IS Hope. As the best emotional response from the events of 9/11 came from the US and the whole world, with outpourings of compassion and help with great respect for the victims of the flights, their families, and for all those passengers whose planes were diverted away from New York. Strangers opened their homes and hearts. It was a blessed moment… while it lasted. Yes, RESPECT was the key, and yet in time, that Administration chose the wrong target and threw us into war with an enemy not responsible for the terrorism*, which led to even more war, division, and in the last 10 years, abandonment of our Constitutional rights.
In the years in-between, we honored the dead every 9/11, the new tower debuted, and annual solemn memorials were held, as they should be.
But we are still learning to not let fear guide us. There are times when we pine for the world before 9/11, but we must live in the now, and work to truly make peace and respect reality, and the world a safe, caring, verdant world for all our children
Today is another beautiful late summer day with intense blue skies and puffy clouds. We must work for the United States to become respected again as it was in those few truly awful days.
- And yes, Sadaam Hussein was a tyrant, and I’m very thankful for his downfall, but he was not the cause.
