Morning
ya'll! There are, as with that morning fifteen years ago just so many
words to say. As articulate and broad a vocabulary that I possess, I
have felt the same now in this last few days as I did that morning on
Greenspring Avenue. There are so many things to say, so many words of
expression I could use to to write a pathway of emotions from 8:45am
September 11, 2001 until this day fifteen years later. Billy Price and I
sat in that kitchen drinking coffee in panic, disbelief and horrified.
All I have is the same aching in my belly and my soul as I did that day.
It hasn't gone away, I'm not sure I have such an expectation of this
feeling ever leaving me until I pass. My friends, each of us has our
story of that fateful day and it will carry with us until only God knows
when.
For fifteen years, we've read and watched television programs, movies and documentaries on this subject. Many of us like me, not directly involved with the Trade Center, Pentagon or Shanksville have learned the names of those that played important roles in saving lives at the towers the Pentagon and those aboard flight 93 that chose the valor of what it means to be an American to make the ultimate sacrifice and take back from these vermin what belongs to us as Americans. I cannot fathom, the range of emotion and then the grasp on the situation at hand an how important it was to take back control of that plane. I'd imagine that none of those passengers knew that "They" of themselves possessed such capability, or meaning for which their actions must mean until it was time to make that call. Just the thought of such a thing still stirs an ache in my gut that I don't think will ever leave me.
The names of those people that tried to get
everyone out of the towers, they are etched in our collective brain as a
country. Those that rushed in when so many were running out and lastly
those of flight 93. I had no intention of writing on the subject this
morning with my cigarettes and coffee. Hell at best, I only chose to
change my profile picture in solidarity and remembrance of that day
fifteen years ago. I suppose as individuals our singular stories may not
mean much paled in comparison to those loved ones and families that
lost friends and family on September 11th, 2001. But in purpose for the
greater good, our singular and individual stories of what we were doing,
where we were and with whom on that day make up a collective as a
country; as a people of the United States of America. Tell your story,
remind yourself, tell your friends, your family and those you love. In
going through my memories and recalling my story, it becomes my
realization that this awful aching in my gut not only won't go away, the
horror of seeing people jump to their deaths is etched indelibly in my
mind and soul. In writing this, its my realization that this aching in
my gut isn't just mine. It has become in totality the aching heart of
us, a nation that looked on in horror, disgust, grief and anger that
someone hates us for our way of life enough to take our mothers,
fathers, brothers, sister, sons and daughters and grandchildren.
Innocent lives that on that day were used as pawns from someone with 7th
century religious ideology to attempt to tear us apart.
It
didn't work! We are a nation of individuals with freedoms and liberties
in the design of the pursuit of happiness who seek that freedom and
justice for all. But what they have done was not tear us apart in as
much as they had hoped, they did not bring us to our knees as was their
goal. Instead, we over those moments on the television screen, or radio
speakers; began to oppose they're objective. We are Americans, we did
not bow, we did not rest on our knees and certainly we did not come
apart. If you don't think so, well okay. I'll just ask you to recall
your pain, your horror and all of your emotions of that and subsequent
days. I'll ask you to recall the moment you switched on your television
or your radio and you saw or heard the President of the United States of
America; jump up on that fire truck in New York City. When with a
bullhorn he empathized and encouraged those on site to continue to do
America's work and find our people. Most poignantly, I'll ask you to
recall your feelings, thoughts and emotions as he told those there and
us as Americans. "I can hear you, the rest of the world hears you, and
the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon".
Remember what it is you felt when you saw or heard that? I do, that was
the feeling of being no longer individual but becoming part of a
collective and for the greater good. That was the moment when their
ideology failed them, when our civic pride emerged and we became again a
people. We became what we had always been, barring those moments of
horror. We are the United States of America and we are Americans. So
amidst the recollection of your thoughts, your memories of this day
fifteen years ago; along with the grass cutting, football watching and
whatever the daily business of life has you doing on this day.... Take
some time to breath, to put into effort the thought of that ache in your
belly. Take that time to honor your duty as an American, that just of
that virtue we are standing tall, we are proud and we are a collective
of individuals known simply to some as Americans. Those names, those
images and most importantly those lives lost on this day fifteen years
ago come with a cost, a debt that we can never repay fully. It is after
all, a continued balance of our collective soul and individualism that
we must commit to honor; and that debtor is the aching in mine, yours
and our belly.
It won't soon leave us, so no matter where you were, who
you were with, how near or far from New York, Washington or Shanksville,
tell your story, share your thoughts with one another, make good on
your debt of honor and gratitude. Be the voice of those who leaped,
rushed into the building when those were coming out, be the voice of
those who for fifteen years have stood an eternal watch of our freedom,
our liberty and our pursuit of happiness. We speak for them in our
stories and thus WE NEVER FORGET.
For fifteen years, we've read and watched television programs, movies and documentaries on this subject. Many of us like me, not directly involved with the Trade Center, Pentagon or Shanksville have learned the names of those that played important roles in saving lives at the towers the Pentagon and those aboard flight 93 that chose the valor of what it means to be an American to make the ultimate sacrifice and take back from these vermin what belongs to us as Americans. I cannot fathom, the range of emotion and then the grasp on the situation at hand an how important it was to take back control of that plane. I'd imagine that none of those passengers knew that "They" of themselves possessed such capability, or meaning for which their actions must mean until it was time to make that call. Just the thought of such a thing still stirs an ache in my gut that I don't think will ever leave me.
The names of those people that tried to get
everyone out of the towers, they are etched in our collective brain as a
country. Those that rushed in when so many were running out and lastly
those of flight 93. I had no intention of writing on the subject this
morning with my cigarettes and coffee. Hell at best, I only chose to
change my profile picture in solidarity and remembrance of that day
fifteen years ago. I suppose as individuals our singular stories may not
mean much paled in comparison to those loved ones and families that
lost friends and family on September 11th, 2001. But in purpose for the
greater good, our singular and individual stories of what we were doing,
where we were and with whom on that day make up a collective as a
country; as a people of the United States of America. Tell your story,
remind yourself, tell your friends, your family and those you love. In
going through my memories and recalling my story, it becomes my
realization that this awful aching in my gut not only won't go away, the
horror of seeing people jump to their deaths is etched indelibly in my
mind and soul. In writing this, its my realization that this aching in
my gut isn't just mine. It has become in totality the aching heart of
us, a nation that looked on in horror, disgust, grief and anger that
someone hates us for our way of life enough to take our mothers,
fathers, brothers, sister, sons and daughters and grandchildren.
Innocent lives that on that day were used as pawns from someone with 7th
century religious ideology to attempt to tear us apart.
It
didn't work! We are a nation of individuals with freedoms and liberties
in the design of the pursuit of happiness who seek that freedom and
justice for all. But what they have done was not tear us apart in as
much as they had hoped, they did not bring us to our knees as was their
goal. Instead, we over those moments on the television screen, or radio
speakers; began to oppose they're objective. We are Americans, we did
not bow, we did not rest on our knees and certainly we did not come
apart. If you don't think so, well okay. I'll just ask you to recall
your pain, your horror and all of your emotions of that and subsequent
days. I'll ask you to recall the moment you switched on your television
or your radio and you saw or heard the President of the United States of
America; jump up on that fire truck in New York City. When with a
bullhorn he empathized and encouraged those on site to continue to do
America's work and find our people. Most poignantly, I'll ask you to
recall your feelings, thoughts and emotions as he told those there and
us as Americans. "I can hear you, the rest of the world hears you, and
the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon". 
Remember what it is you felt when you saw or heard that? I do, that was
the feeling of being no longer individual but becoming part of a
collective and for the greater good. That was the moment when their
ideology failed them, when our civic pride emerged and we became again a
people. We became what we had always been, barring those moments of
horror. We are the United States of America and we are Americans. So
amidst the recollection of your thoughts, your memories of this day
fifteen years ago; along with the grass cutting, football watching and
whatever the daily business of life has you doing on this day.... Take
some time to breath, to put into effort the thought of that ache in your
belly. Take that time to honor your duty as an American, that just of
that virtue we are standing tall, we are proud and we are a collective
of individuals known simply to some as Americans. Those names, those
images and most importantly those lives lost on this day fifteen years
ago come with a cost, a debt that we can never repay fully. It is after
all, a continued balance of our collective soul and individualism that
we must commit to honor; and that debtor is the aching in mine, yours
and our belly.
