Remember where you were...

Saturday, September 11, 2010. Tonight in New York City, the blue towers of lights shine high into the sky. They are bigger than the bat symbol, but are still calling for help. The lights of the Empire State Building are red, white and blue. All across the city today, everyone could collect an assortment of free flags, necklaces, posters, etc. Today is a day of remembrance.

#26 Remember where you were

I am certain that everyone in America who was at least 7 years old, nine years ago, remembers where they were when it happened; when the tragedy of 9/11 struck our country and sent everyone into shock and panic. My parents still can recall where they were when JFK was shot. They can also tell you exactly what they were doing when John Lennon and Elvis died. Before their passing, my grandparents could still give a complete account of December 7, 1941 as well as the day WWII finally ended. These are not moments that we remember because we have to. These are moments that we remember because we can't imagine not remembering them.

On September 11, 2001, I was in my first semester as a freshman at Blue Mountain College. I came downstairs and everyone was crowded in the TV room in my dorm. I was on my way to acting class. I watched a few horrible moments of the repeating footage and then I went to class in a state of shock. I went to class and my professor, before dismissing us, asked us each to write a monologue inspired by the days events. I left class and proceeded to watch the footage for the rest of the day. I spent some time trying to get in touch with people I knew in NYC at the time. I cried because it seemed like the right thing to do. I called my mom. I was hurt and angry and sad. I gave blood and helped raise funds for the Red Cross. I felt as if there was nothing I could do to actually make a difference.

When events happen in our lives, events that will be talked about in history books forever, we have to remember them, one way or another. Perhaps some write them down. Perhaps some go out the next day and buy a paper or a magazine, just to have. Even though these are tragic and we might not want to remember them, we must. One day, my children will come home from school and ask me if I remember, just like I did when Irealized that my parents had been alive when JFK was shot. I need to be able to tell them where I was and what I was doing. Who I was with. Why? Because that is now part of who I am. It is now part of who I will be from now on. It is part of what this is country is now and it is a part of our history.