I don't know why Graded had this system then, it really doesn't make much sense at all, but they used to have students who had that time period free pick up the attendance sheets next to the door within the first 15 minutes of every class. Leo picked up our attendance sheet that day, and when he walked in, he announced that terrorists had just crashed planes into the twin towers in New York. Leo was a bit of a clown, and we didn't believe him. This was before internet phones, so no one checked up on it. After about half an hour, there was an announcement for everyone to meet in the auditorium.
We sat there, all together, and watched CNN replay the scene of the planes crashing into the twin towers, and then we watched as the towers fell, as people jumped out of the building, and as New York changed forever. Graded is an American school, and many people had connections to New York, so there was a lot of crying and desperate phone calls. Classes were suspended, most of us were taken home, and the news kept playing the scene, over and over again.
I felt a huge sense of sadness at the time. Reactions around me varied. Conspiracy theories, bem feito, my god, I knew..., I lost..., I can't believe..., Why?, How? It was the only thing we talked about for a few days. But then weeks went by, and we had exams and boys and plays and other things to think about. 9/11 faded into the background, for the most part.
My family visited Ground Zero 6 months after 9/11/01, in a trip where we also visited a Holocaust memorial in Germany. At the Holocaust memorial, there was a monument that read, "Never Again;" words that haunted me when I stood over the empty space in downtown Manhattan shortly after. At one point, I looked up at the sky, and felt a sharp pain in my chest. The presence of the towers, magnified by their absence, loomed over us, and I remember thinking, so this is what a ghost feels like, this is what a tragedy looks like.
I didn't know that ten years later I would not only be living in New York, but would also have fallen madly in love with this city and called it my own. This is the only place I know of where people from all over the world can feel comfortable, as if it were always meant to be their home. It is a place of big dreams and endless hope. Small wonder people take 9/11 personally, even if they didn't live here at the time.9/11 is always a hard day for me. I take dates seriously, and I am more than a little bit skilled at empathy. Anniversaries of tragedies always touch me deeply. The past few weeks have been filled with conversations of "Where were you when it happened?" It is amazing to hear the stories of fellow new yorkers, of people who were here and saw it happen.
I went to Ground Zero today to pay my respects, and it was really sad. There were a lot of tourists, cameras, and people promoting their own agendas; all of which pissed me off, but I wanted to be there nonetheless. I wanted to look up at the sky again and see that empty space, which still causes me so much pain, and honor the people who were affected by that day in my heart and prayers.
Do they make too big of a deal of it all? Does this whole thing reinforce American narcissism? Don't tragedies of this scale happen all the time in other countries, and never even make it to the news? I don't know, and I don't care. What happens elsewhere and how people deal with this here doesn't change that it happened. It was a tragedy, and it shook the world.
New York, on the 10th anniversary of this tragedy that changed you, I honor your spirit, your passion, and your survivors. I love you and carry you, my city, in my heart.
Share your 9/11 stories. It's important. I think it's the best way to honor this day.
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