September 11--Then and Now

Amid the weekend’s memorials and remembrances of the ten-year anniversary of September 11, 2001, millions offered commentary about where they were that day and when and how they heard the news. I also heard reports that those who were pre-teens in middle school in 2001 are the ones who have experienced the greatest cultural change—these observations were made at the five-year anniversary as well. Those much younger than middle school couldn’t grasp the situation. Those much older had life experiences to help them cope.

I was 13 in 2001—eighth grade. Old enough to know and understand what was happening at the time. I have memories from before the attacks—the ease of airport security, not being patted down at professional sporting events, effortlessly traveling to and from Canada, not having a tub of Vaseline confiscated during a random purse search on my senior trip.

Ten years later, I’m a college graduate. America has been at war all of my teenage and adult life. My classmates—13 when the planes crashed—have served in Iraq and Afghanistan as Marines. We were kids during Desert Storm, but the War on Terror has always been our war.

It changed how we travel, our sense of safety, our country’s patriotism, and how we looked at Muslims. At 13, terrorism was a new word to me—one I hear almost daily now.

During this week of remembrance, I’ve read the articles about those who lost family members and friends on that day. I’ve tried to imagine what it would feel like if I had been in New York City, instead of Owatonna, Minnesota. And I’ve tried to be thankful.

While this tragedy has changed so much about how I grew up, it had very little personal impact on me. No one I knew died that day. We all lost our sense of safety and some freedom, but that’s nothing compared to losing a spouse or a child.

I’ve realized it doesn’t matter where I was when I found out the towers had been hit. What I was doing is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that I was not in the World Trade Center, in the Pentagon, or on one of those planes.

My story is not important. It’s only important that I never forget.