As someone who makes a living editing the work of others, it is not often that I am at a loss for words. This morning, as I began to reflect on the events of September 11, 2001 as I always do on the anniversary of that awful day, the words would not come. Instead, my mind was filled with images, pictures that I saw again on my television, and in my mind:
Video of the gaping hole in the side of the first tower, and watching live as the second plane flew low and with deadly aim, into the second.
Images of the towers falling, of the Pentagon, of that black hole in an otherwise green field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
The siren in front of school that went off as I drove by to take my son his lunch that morning.
Memories of my husband's pale face as he stepped from his car that afternoon.
The sounds of the radio blaring the latest news from the windows of my children's bus as it pulled up to the bus stop.
A somber ceremony at our church later that evening.
The images and emotions are as powerful today as they were when they first happened. So much changed that day, yet in the years since, we have grown complacent as life has gotten back to normal.
I thought about that a lot this morning as my son and I had breakfast and he headed off to school. I wondered just how much of an impact the events of that day and those that followed has really had on each of us. Have we really forgotten how vulnerable and angry we felt, or have we simply chosen to go on living our daily lives rather than dwelling on the past?
Personally, rarely a day goes by that I don't think about that day because the reminders are all around me:
The flag on our front porch that flies every day in honor and support of our troops.
The basketball hoop where we spent so many hours in the evenings afterward, when we just couldn't take another minute of the continuing coverage of the tragedy.
The emergency siren in front of the local school that went off that morning as I passed by when I took my son the lunch he had left at home.
Clear, blue sky above me, just like the one here and in New York that day.
An airplane flying overhead, reminding me of the bravery of those on Flight 93, and of every person who chose to get back on a plane in the days and weeks that followed.
This morning dawned cool and gray, and in a way I was glad because I didn't really want it to be similar to that day six years ago. Of course, God had other plans when it came to reminders. Before long, the clouds broke up and drifted off, giving way to the familiar blue. I noticed this as I made my way to my son's school to take the folder he forgot, passing the siren on the way, which did not, thankfully, go off this morning.
Instead of taking the road back home this morning after leaving my son's school, I took another route and ended up in the city of O'Fallon at a September 11 Remembrance Ceremony. I hadn't really planned to go because it was just briefly mentioned on our morning newscast, and it wasn't really on my list of things to do today.
With my ever-present camera, I made my way over to the area that had been roped off for the ceremony. Behind me idled a firetruck, and before me was a piece of twisted steel that had been salvaged from the Ground Zero.
The ceremony was brief, yet touching, and included a young lady who sang the National Anthem and God Bless America, a 21-gun salute, and a bagpiper who played Amazing Grace. A haunting rendition of Taps was played by a lone Trumpeter, and it sent chills down my spine. It felt good to place a flower next to the wreath at the memorial, to shed a few tears, and to be surrounded by others who have not forgotten.
I hope and pray that we will never forget, that folks will again fly their flags at half-staff, that we will take time out to thank the men and women who serve so bravely, that September 11 will never become just another day on the calender.
We have to move forward, but every now and then we need to look over our shoulder at where we have been. It's the only way to really appreciate the journey.
Video of the gaping hole in the side of the first tower, and watching live as the second plane flew low and with deadly aim, into the second.
Images of the towers falling, of the Pentagon, of that black hole in an otherwise green field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
The siren in front of school that went off as I drove by to take my son his lunch that morning.
Memories of my husband's pale face as he stepped from his car that afternoon.
The sounds of the radio blaring the latest news from the windows of my children's bus as it pulled up to the bus stop.
A somber ceremony at our church later that evening.
The images and emotions are as powerful today as they were when they first happened. So much changed that day, yet in the years since, we have grown complacent as life has gotten back to normal.
I thought about that a lot this morning as my son and I had breakfast and he headed off to school. I wondered just how much of an impact the events of that day and those that followed has really had on each of us. Have we really forgotten how vulnerable and angry we felt, or have we simply chosen to go on living our daily lives rather than dwelling on the past?
Personally, rarely a day goes by that I don't think about that day because the reminders are all around me:
The flag on our front porch that flies every day in honor and support of our troops.
The basketball hoop where we spent so many hours in the evenings afterward, when we just couldn't take another minute of the continuing coverage of the tragedy.
The emergency siren in front of the local school that went off that morning as I passed by when I took my son the lunch he had left at home.
Clear, blue sky above me, just like the one here and in New York that day.
An airplane flying overhead, reminding me of the bravery of those on Flight 93, and of every person who chose to get back on a plane in the days and weeks that followed.
This morning dawned cool and gray, and in a way I was glad because I didn't really want it to be similar to that day six years ago. Of course, God had other plans when it came to reminders. Before long, the clouds broke up and drifted off, giving way to the familiar blue. I noticed this as I made my way to my son's school to take the folder he forgot, passing the siren on the way, which did not, thankfully, go off this morning.
Instead of taking the road back home this morning after leaving my son's school, I took another route and ended up in the city of O'Fallon at a September 11 Remembrance Ceremony. I hadn't really planned to go because it was just briefly mentioned on our morning newscast, and it wasn't really on my list of things to do today.
With my ever-present camera, I made my way over to the area that had been roped off for the ceremony. Behind me idled a firetruck, and before me was a piece of twisted steel that had been salvaged from the Ground Zero.
The ceremony was brief, yet touching, and included a young lady who sang the National Anthem and God Bless America, a 21-gun salute, and a bagpiper who played Amazing Grace. A haunting rendition of Taps was played by a lone Trumpeter, and it sent chills down my spine. It felt good to place a flower next to the wreath at the memorial, to shed a few tears, and to be surrounded by others who have not forgotten.
I hope and pray that we will never forget, that folks will again fly their flags at half-staff, that we will take time out to thank the men and women who serve so bravely, that September 11 will never become just another day on the calender.
We have to move forward, but every now and then we need to look over our shoulder at where we have been. It's the only way to really appreciate the journey.
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