Memories of 9/11

“We must welcome the future, remembering that soon it will be the past; and we must respect the past, remembering that it was once all that was humanly possible.”

~George Santayana

Last week, I listened to the various news stories on the radio commemorating the anniversary of the attacks on the Twin Towers on September 11th, 2001.  I paid more attention to them than in recent years when one of the stories pointed out that that a large number of people, young adults and children had no direct, personal memories of the events that took place that day.  Being too young to recall, or not having been born when it took place.  

It made me think of my memories of 9/11.  Specifically, three things that I saw, experienced, and heard.  

The first was going to work that morning.  As I got ready to go to work, I was listening to the news on the radio.  Something I had done for years before and still do today.  Just before leaving I heard the news of the first plane striking one of the towers.  A weird, freakish, and tragic accident by the sound of it.  By the time I got to the office, the second plane struck the remaining tower, and immediately all the news stories were saying it had to be a purposeful attack.  

Nothing was getting done in the office.  Everyone was standing in their cubicles, talking with their neighbors, or clustering in the aisles, to talk about the events.  Repeating all the questions that were being asked on the news.  Who had done this?  Why?  What was going to happen next?

A new sales rep arrived late.  Acting more dazed and confused than the rest of us.  He apologized for being late and went to the office he was borrowing where he just sat down at the desk and stared out into space.  

A few of us talked to him and he revealed to us that he was worried about his brother.  He was a NYFD fireman.  His mother had called to tell him that his brother was listed as MIA after the towers collapsed.  No one knew where he was or his state of being.  

Several of us asked him at the same time, “Why are you here?”  We told him he needed to go home.  Get in touch with his mother and his family.  Do what he could to be with them.  He agreed, put away his laptop, and left the office.  

A few days later he quit the company to go back to New York.  A few days later, he sent us a message, thanking us for our concern, and letting us know that they’d found his brother.  Alive.  Trapped under a metal beam that fell on his chest.  At that time, he was the last survivor found in the rubble after the collapse.  

Shortly after the sales rep left, the company told everyone to go home.  I drove home listening to the news on the radio.  Listening to them repeating the same recap of events, talking to “experts,” asking the same question over and over again.  Who?  Why?  What next?  

I missed my normal offramp going home.  I took the next one, which would make me cut through Old Town of Pasadena.  Stopping at each intersection to wait for the light.  

I was waiting at an intersection to cross Colorado Boulevard, waiting for the light to change, when I started wondering what it would have been like.  If I had been one of the people working in the towers.  Sitting at my desk.  Logging into my computer.  Starting my work day.  Then, turning to look out my window to see one of the planes heading straight toward me…

The next thing I knew, I was accelerating through the red light.  I had slammed my foot on the accelerator.  Fortunately, no one was crossing from either direction.  When I got to the other side, I pulled over.  I stopped.  Put the car in park and sat there.  I waited for any policeman on patrol that had seen what I’d done to pull over, talk to me, and give me a ticket.  

I had wanted to escape.  Seeing that plane in my imagination, bearing down on me…  I had felt trapped.  Wanting to escape.  Even though it was too late.  

No policeman pulled up behind me.  After calming down, I put the car into gear and drove home.  Taking care to drive slowly and carefully.  Just thinking about getting home.  

In a very real way, I believe that all of us are still running away from that moment.  Changing the context to be angry rather than afraid.  

Anger and Fear are the same emotion.  Based on the flight or fight instinct all animals have.  When something threatens us and we decide to run, we call it “Fear.”  If we are threatened or attacked, and decide to fight back, we call it “Anger.”  

The third thing I remember from that day came from the news stories I listened to.  Several people repeated the same observation about what happened.  That it created a new world.  The world of “After 9/11.”  Verses the world we had before.  

There was unity after the attack.  And there was also a righteous anger.  We would go to wherever those that had done this to us and do something to them.  To keep the “Fear” at bay, we decided to embrace “Anger.”  

To this day, we still are.  After the attack, we started a war against those protecting the people that had done it.  A war I supported, wholeheartedly.  Then we expanded it to a “War on Terror.”  “Terror” being an extreme form of Fear.  We went looking for the weapons they might use for a subsequent attack, WMDs, Weapons of Mass Destruction.  

The cycle as continued.  We’re still there, fully involved in the region.  Still attacking enemies.  Looking for the weapons they might use against us.  Still fighting the Fear.  Still embracing Anger.  To the point where the Anger has expanded.  Toward people fleeing that area and the wars we’ve been involved in.  Toward people that look like them.  Toward each other, for not being as resolute in the embrace of Anger.  

For the people that don’t remember the day, this is all they have to experience.  Just listen to the news we have today.  

In fiction writing, there is a point where the protagonist, the “Hero,” has to make a choice.  When they reach the point in the story where they feel as far from their goal as they can possibly be.  When they have done their best, tried everything, given all they have to give, and can no longer see a way to achieve their goal.  

At this point, what I’ll call the Crisis of Faith, they have a choice between two directions.  The first one is to, “Keep the Faith.”  Believe in the path they’ve taken.  Redouble their efforts.  Dig down deeper than they think they have resources or resolve, and try again.  One last charge to overcome the obstacles and succeed.  

The second option I call, “A Leap of Faith.”  A decision to recognize that what you’ve done time and time again isn’t working.  You’ve tweaked it, revamped it, gave it your all, but it simply hasn’t worked.  It’s a decision to stop the exercise of insanity, trying the same thing again and again, expecting a better result.  A decision to try something else.  Something that at least has the benefit of not having been tried before.  

I do not dare to listen any possibilities.  I’m no expert.  Anything I might suggest will be filled with pitfalls and obstacles I can’t imagine.  Any choice would give rise to legions of people who will cry out that we MUST KEEP GOING.  And believe in the cause.  Otherwise we’re doomed to failure and our enemies will win.  

To that, I have only one response.  And that is to remind them of a more famous quote by Santayana than the one I used at the top of this posting.

“Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.”