So naturally, I often randomly think about what my life was like five or ten years ago. It just so happens that now, this weekend, the thought holds a stronger significance. Where was I on September 11th, 2001 and who was I? I can’t say that I was personally impacted or knew someone who was impacted but I can look at what I learned about myself and people through the experience.
I’d been in high school for just over a month and had so much to learn. I was insecure and completely oblivious. I had only been living in the south for a little over a year and was still getting used to the different culture and belief systems (but that, my friends, is a whole different topic). Although I was only 14, I had already bought into the lie that my value and significance came from guys. If guys (even ones I didn’t like and found to be annoying) paid me attention, if they were trying to talk to me or get me to date them, then it gave me power and a sense of being worth something. I was worth time and energy, I was desired and I was wanted (even if it was just to show off). Man, was I a dope!
So on September 11th, I went to school like every other day. My first class was Russian from 8-9:30. We were in the 800 building (a building that as far as I know no longer even exists) at A.C. Flora High School in a classroom the size of a closet. Louis, Molly, Jamie and Brandi are among the people I remember being there with me and we were cut off from the world, completely oblivious of anything that was going on around us. At 9:30, we switched classes and there was a buzz in the air. Something was off but we still had no clue. Math with Coach Jackson began at 9:36 and I walked into the room completely unaware of why the television was on and the Coach was just sitting at his desk staring into space. People weren’t quiet but they weren’t loud, they were just sort of fuzzy. Some, most likely the ones who actually understand, were extremely shaken up while others, more like me, just couldn’t seem to grasp what the big deal was.
I was fourteen years, selfish and unaware, living in my own little world. I sat at my desk with two of my closest friends, Rey and Joseph, as people whispered about the images on the TV screen mounted above the door. I was being told that an airplane crashed into a tower in NYC and another crashed into an important government building in Washington D.C. I feel like an idiot now but I just didn’t get it. I couldn’t comprehend someone doing this on purpose. The terms “hijacked” and “terrorist” meant nothing to me. I didn’t understand someone had done this deliberately, I also didn’t understand that there were people on the planes or that there were thousands of people in those buildings. My brain wasn’t processing that. I only saw it as an accidental fire and I couldn’t understand why this was news to stop school, didn’t planes crash all the time? But then, another plane came crashing in and I understood it wasn’t an accident.
Coach Jackson kept picking up the phone and trying to make a phone call but it wasn’t going through. Our big, funny, tough guy teacher was terrified and we didn’t know why. We later discovered that his sister worked next door to the Pentagon and he couldn’t get her to pick up her phone.
I don’t remember anything else from the school day. My memories from math class are vivid but the rest of the day is a blank. I imagine we must have continued to watch the news and discuss it in my other classes, especially since they were ROTC and History.
Now that I think about it, I probably don’t have any memories from History class because the boy I liked was in that class and I can tell you for sure that he was just as stupid as me. Not one of us had a clue about the significance of that day. Or maybe he did but he just really didn’t care. It is hard to say but I do remember sitting on my front porch that night talking to him on the phone. He told me that his little sister (who was a year or two younger than me) was glued to the television and she was “making this huge deal about everything”. As he mocked her, I remember feeling as if I knew better, that his words were cruel and that I would be much better off watching the news than talking to him. But I continued right along with my conversation and even pulled the “so when are you going to ask me to be your girlfriend already?” card. That’s right ladies and gentlemen; I was so self-absorbed that in the midst of destruction, heartache and devastation I felt it necessary to get this boy that I had been flirting with to be my boyfriend. I am ashamed to say that my biggest care of the day was whether we would officially start dating. It was all about me.
Now ten years later, I don’t know that girl anymore. That relationship only lasted about a month but it was one of the ugliest experiences I have ever had with a guy. I wish I could tell you I got a clue right after that breakup but I didn’t. The experience only added fuel to the flame of the lies I believed about my worth. It has been ten years since September 11th, the first five years I spent believing lies about how little I was worth and learning to dream small so as not to be disappointed. The five years after that were spent uncovering the truth about who I am, learning to identify lies and counterfeit thoughts and discovering what I was created for and where my purpose and value comes from.
At times I can still be pretty selfish but I have learned to look out instead of in. Now, my greatest pleasure does come from serving those around me. I have found that through reaching out, I form the greatest bonds and memories.
I realize this is not the typical September 11th but I wasn’t directly impacted and I will not pretend I was. That would be wrong. However, I am an American and this is my redemption story.
