I didn’t know anyone on the planes. I didn’t know anyone in the buildings. I remember the day. My mind was on an allergy appointment and a dermatology appointment and how I was going to juggle the couple of hours off between them. When the first plane hit the first tower, I didn’t see it. I went to allergy shots and came home and my mom had come in and said that there was some sort of accident. At that point, no one knew it was a terrorist attack, just that some sort of plane had hit the tower.
A few minutes later the second plane to hit the second tower. By then we had an inkling of what was going on. Time starts to slow down. Reports came in of some sort of fire at the Pentagon. Another plane down? In PA, accident? Who knows. Things seem to be getting under control and then the first tower fell. No one believes what’s going on. About 30 minutes later, the second tower falls and this is where time has stood still for me for 10 years.
I remember driving to my dermatology appointment. Cars were pulled over on the highway with people just listening to their radios. Rumors were everywhere in the waiting room offering hope for survivors (90% of them later proven false), but my mind was stuck in the moments of the last hour. The horrific images on my TV and events that could not be forgotten.
Again, I’m the least connected to the events of anyone. I didn’t know anyone in the buildings or on the planes, in the years that followed I’ve had friends with kids who have served in the military during the wars that followed, but I didn’t know them. Yet I saw them die, live, in living color, on every channel, and have seen them die, again, in living color, nearly every day since that day.
In the years that followed, America as a whole hasn’t given them the peace that they deserve or given us a chance to move out of those horrific moments. It’s become a morbid fascination and a snuff film that never ends. The footage of their deaths starts up again in July of every year with new specials on the “historic” and “learning” channels. Every nut with a theory about that day begins to make the rounds promoting their books and the networks bring us right back to those moments of their deaths and replays them over and over until things culminate in the over the top media frenzy of September 11th.
There are moments in your life that you want to forget and there are moments in your life that you need to come to terms with. When someone dies in front of you, the very last thing you want is to relive that moment. Often, there’s no choice, but eventually you come to terms with it and you move on. It is part of the healing process. We all have gone through it, we all have had that chance to move on. But with 9/11? How can we, when it’s become a virtual spectator sport.
As I speak, my Facebook wall is being flooded with tributes to those who died. Each one contains their deaths in graphic detail. People mean well, but dang it, when you go to a funeral or a memorial for someone who died, you aren’t presented with grisly autopsy photos or a video replay with commentary of the exact moment they stopped breathing. You take the time to honor the person as they were in life and give your hopes and your prayers and your wishes that that person finds peace where ever you believe they go after their life ends. You don’t replay their deaths on a video screen over and over because frankly, no one will ever heal that way. It’s like picking at and reopening a wound each time, you’re never going to recover if you keep doing that.
In the past ten years I’ve been known for not freaking out and for trying to keep composure even when the ship has sunk and there’s no way to put a happy spin on things. I try my best to keep calm and salvage what I can from the situation as I come to terms with it. But in this case, I can’t. You say the words “9/11” and I choke up. I think of those images and to this day it’s like I’m right back in the moment, frozen in anguish as they die in front of me. I spend the months around the anniversary with the TV off or avoiding channels I love for the rest of the year because even after a decade, I can’t deal with those images without reopening the wounds. I’m sitting here holding back tears as Facebook dinged again and there’s yet another tribute with their deaths in grisly detail on my wall. I know they mean well (at least on Facebook), by posting the tributes (network TV is another matter entirely), but with every post the recovery stops as soon as I see them die.
I think about the people that died that day, all those families and friends and the nation (if not the world) impacted by that day and they deserve peace. I think we owe more to all of them, all of us, really, than to stop using the images of their deaths in the never ending media and social media frenzy that the day becomes. They will never find peace until we start to give them the respect they deserve and remember how they were in life rather than this endless fascination about the moments of their deaths. It’s the only way we’re going to heal, but I know we’re not ready to give up and do that just yet.
So I am choosing to spend today in silence. The TV will be off most of the day, so will the radio. I’m going to avoid Facebook as much as possible. It’s going to be a very quiet day, I might walk the dog, might listen to some music or catch up with old episodes of ‘Northern Exposure’ on my computer before watching my Seahawks and mutter about how this is going to be another awful season. It will be like every Sunday was before 9/11, a peaceful day as life marches on and I start to recover, it’s how I respect them and honor them and all I know how to do.
I hope you find your peace as well.
Jim