lc_story235.xml

lc_story235.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2004-01-10

I was at school, going to my Spanish class. I heard that someone had crashed a plane into the World Trade Center. At first I thought someone had crashed a Cessna into a window or something. But by the end of the period, we had learned that a plane - a passenger jet, not a small plane - had crashed into the Pentagon. The president of our school Fr. Arnold came on the P.A. and said, "Let us pray for the victims of the devastation in New York and Washington." I knew then that something had gone horribly wrong. I walked somewhat uneasily to my study hall, where two TV's had the coverage of the attacks on. I stood there and looked, watching the plumes pour out of the building. Then it happened - I never thought it could happen - I saw the top of the tower start to move down. There was no time to think - all I remember is that image and that horrible feeling of loss, of defeat, of sorrow. I could not believe the destruction I had just seen, all the lives I saw extinguished right there... I sat down at my desk, just wanting to weep. I saw the smoke engulfing lower Manhattan like a great pall. And then - with the one tower destroyed and the Pentagon damaged, just when I thought it couldn't possibly get worse - the second tower fell. I was just dumfounded. This was not a loss just for New York, just for America...no, this was a loss for humanity. This was a loss for the people who did it, this was a loss for their victims, this was a loss for everyone who has to carry on and rebuild.

After school, there was a Mass for Peace in our chapel. By the end of that day, I was afraid - afraid for myself, for my family and friends, for my country, for the future and what it would bring. To put it simply, I was beside myself that day. I remember singing the hymns for peace during that Mass, which for me is monumental - almost nothing can move me to sing. The image of the towers falling is burned in my memory, yes; but it was that gathering in the chapel that gave me the hope I needed for that day, a hope - despite the overwhelming evil I had seen - that God would be able to deliver us, and save us from our imperfections, and give us the peace we all so desperately need.

Without a doubt, September 11 has changed America. The days immediately following it were surreal - I can never remember a time when people could put aside their differences so readily and help each other. I saw the flag everywhere, and everyone was banding together under it. For once, we all were one - one nation, one people, all binding together to heal the nation's wounds. While I do not see that so much now, I still see the flag, and I still see police and firefighters risking their lives to keep us safe. The thing about September 11 is that, further along in history, it may be remembered for two things, just as Pearl Harbor was: its general devastation, and its affect on foreign policy. But we must never allow this day to pass into dry history - no, we must preserve its memory as fully as we can, so future generations can understand. They must know not just of the damage done on September 11, but of the unparalleled heroism of those who saved so many, of the outpouring of emotion, of the nation's rise from the fiery rubble of Ground Zero - wounded, but strong, and ready to continue as America and her citizens always have, and always will.