Eight Years

I wasn't sure if I wanted to write a "remembering 9/11" blog entry, mostly because it would feel fake. I was extremely lucky to come out of that day without losing any loved ones. As the day unfolded, I didn't even take the event seriously at first. I was a freshman in high school eight years ago, and it was an ordinary day. Bright and sunny, the first month of being a high school student, and I was just settling in.

The first bit of news I received was in Dr. Weiner's biology class. A friend came in, saying a helicopter had flown into the Trade Center. I didn't think much of it, other than "Wow, worst pilot ever." That rumor was way off, of course.

It wasn't until I got into Spanish class that I learned what had actually happened. The teachers were told not to talk to us about the attacks -- for fear there would be a panic, or something. Luckily, my Spanish teacher realized we weren't in elementary school and told us everything she knew. She was also too upset to teach; her son-in-law worked in the city and she was worried sick. (He was O.K.)

I walked home from school that day, with the smell of the burning city heavy in the air (I live in central NJ). I went on the computer, checked minute by minute news and watched T.V. at the same time. It was a weird feeling, watching reporters at the scene and hearing what sounded like giant water balloons hitting the ground. The noise was actually people who had jumped from the towers. That memory sticks out the most in my mind.

That day will always be very clear in my mind. The days, weeks, months and years after are a blur of fear, anger, sadness, patriotism, declarations of war and ultimately, more fear and anger. There were the inevitable conspiracy theories, people who believe our government planned the whole attack. With the years that followed -- mainly, Bush's presidency -- I can't really blame the theorists. But on that whole subject, I have no comment.

I can't say any more than that; what I experienced on that day. I didn't lose anyone I love, and for that I am grateful. I can't pump any unreal emotion into it. As I remember, it was a very surreal day. It was a bad dream; it didn't make sense.

As a resident of New Jersey, New York has always been a part of my life. I have a love/hate relationship with the city (see my entry about Peanut Butter & Co.). The towers themselves always reminded me of going to Shea Stadium with my dad. And it's always a sad reminder, driving into the city and seeing the gap in the skyline.

Personally, I think they should rebuild the towers -- that'd be the biggest "fuck you" to the culprits. No freedom tower, no corny memorial garden that defies phsyics (A.K.A., wouldn't work). Just a way of saying Americans can overcome.