"You never know what you have until you lose it."
I saw the movie World Trade Center this evening at the local movie theater. It takes the stories of a couple Port Authority police officers who were called to duty at the site of the twin towers on the day of the airplane attacks back in 2001, and highlights their struggles while trapped underneath the rubble. After the movie I had a discussion with a friend as to where we were on that day when it happened and how it affected each of us. As we were talking, it got me thinking back to how close I was to the *ahem* action even though I was in a completely different time zone when it happened.
I don't recall much from the day itself, but I remember during my 8 AM Algebra 2 class sophomore year in HS, Mr. Doar, the head of the school, entered the classroom and whispered in my math teacher's ear. She then told us "the US is under attack. The World Trade Center has been destroyed." If you've seen the movies Independence Day and/or Deep Impact, you'd get a pretty accurate description of what I thought had happened. I imagined the twin towers as either knocked over or perhaps still [barely] standing but with a bunch of weird holes in it. Or, perhaps half the buildings had been sliced off and tossed in another part of the neighborhood. It didn't help that the school cancelled classes for awhile (I think it was an hour or so) and we spent time listening to the radio. So I had no idea what was going on, because I had no visual; it was all reporters talking, so I was left to try to imagine what was going on.
It wasn't till around noon or so when I finally saw for the first time what had happened. And believe you me, I was devastated. Knowing that only a couple years before I had gone up to the outside observation deck with my dad and taken some pictures, I had a hard time grasping that a place that I once stood (several times, even) was no longer there. Thusly, I had a very hard time accepting that such an incident had happened. Technically I'd only seen it on TV at the time, so there was still a good chance that it was all a hoax, and I could return to NYC and it would be like it was before. I recall I had several recurring dreams about it, more for trying to understand for myself why it happened.
The first time I returned to NY post-9/11 was in 2004, when I returned to St. Thomas for Dr. (and Dr.) Hancock's retirement party and final service. On the bus going from the Newark Airport to the Port Authority, I couldn't help but stare in wonderment at the NYC skyline, since it was the first time I'd seen it live since the collapse. So of course, given my refusal to believe that the towers were destroyed, I was excited to see a pair of "twin towers" in about the same spot that I'd expect them to be. Unfortunately, it was kind of a misty day, so it probably helped in creating such illusion. As the bus got closer to the Lincoln Tunnel (we were on the road in NJ at the time) I noticed that the "twin towers" had drifted off to the right, and were currently in front of a bridge. It was then that I realized that I was looking at a pair of smokestacks.
The following day, I went to Ground Zero to look for myself, and I was shocked to find that it still was true. By that point it looked more like a construction site (the rubble had long since been cleared out), but I spent a good long time (probably an hour or so) trying to accept that everything I knew about the place was gone, different. I was pretty much consumed by this sad awe. I didn't show any emotion, but perhaps it showed in that it was hard for me to pry myself away from this place.
When I returned to NY earlier this year we had some free time at the beginning of the trip. We pretty much ventured the extremes of Manhattan Island, and it did include a stopover at Ground Zero. A couple people from our group had to excuse themselves from seeing it; it probably would've been extremely emotional for them. It was definitely easier to go this time; by this time I had accepted this ungodly hole as reality. By this time I had let go of the evil that stemmed from the attack. It helped that I had been reading more news about the construction of the next tall structure that would stand in the place of the twin towers.
Since that day there have been numerous attacks and bomb attemps across several parts of the world. Last summer there were three separate explosions in London's Underground, plus another one on a city bus. And not too long ago, British authorities foiled another possible terrorist attack, having detected several liquid bombs at a security checkpoint. Of course, now all liquids and gels are being temporarily banned from airports. [I'm not happy about that at all, especially since I'm flying in 10 days.]
But that's life. Like several other situations that I've witnessed and/or dealt with, this one will pass. To some people, it's been only five years since the September 11th attacks. To others (myself included), it's been five years. I was talking with a friend from home a couple springs ago about a whole slew of life situations (including several bad ones). When the conversation steered toward the 9/11 attacks, he made a great point about how it's understandable to mourn for the first year or so after the attacks, but after a while, there are other things in life that demand more attention. So while it's important to "never forget," it's equally if not more important to let go and move on with life. Just like continued mourning won't bring back a dead friend or loved one, it sure as heck won't bring back a couple of destroyed buildings or undo a few stupid political, militaric, social, or economic decisions.
I recall a fellow HS'er remark on September 11th that we need to move on. [Yes that's true, but it's the wrong time to say it.] It wasn't time to move on yet for most of us. It was still fresh in most everyone's mind; it's damn near impossible just to forget about something that just happened. But over the last few years, as the incident and its memories grow more and more distant, it's been time to move on. I can think of several incidents in my life since then where I could apply the same logic (at least to me anyway): the Bartman Ball game, the fall of St. Luke's, and the deaths of Michael Lefkow and Allen Strehlow (there are others as well). I do know that for some more closely affected by each event that it is still hard to let any or all of these events go, but there comes a time when we must move on.
Therein lies a rare true beauty of human nature: resiliency. It's what keeps John McLoughlin and Will Jimeno (the two trapped surviving officers in the movie) going. It's a gift we so rarely thank God for, but we should try to do it more often.