Unsolicited Testimony

Growing up, I remember my parents talking about the morning JFK was assassinated. They were so young that what they really remember is the cartoons not being on TV. I never thought there’d be an event so significant that I’d always know exactly where I was when I heard.

Then came Tuesday, September 11, 2001.

I remember it was a Tuesday because I had flute lessons after school. It started like any other day. I got my younger brother to school on time, with no help from him. Second period was English literature with my best friend Ashley. We didn’t have cell phones then, so you spent most of school catching up with your friends.

The rumbles had already started. The hallway was quiet. Mrs. Hicks got us settled and told us there had been a crash in New York City. She calmly explained that not much was known yet.

Third period is a blur. Fourth period was band, my family, really. I’d been in band with those people for six years. Our directors rigged up a TV to show the news, and we watched the second tower fall together. It was all so scary.

They canceled every after-school activity. I called my dad from the band hall phone, and he said to come straight home. No flute lessons. The whole week felt strange. I think about that now whenever another country is attacked: the confusion, the stress, the chaos. My parents did the best they could, but it was disorienting.

Looking back, I think about everything that changed after that day: travel, security, how we talk about terrorism. And how it came full circle when President Obama announced we’d finally found Osama bin Laden.

I wonder about the ripple effect. How many families were destroyed that morning? How many soldiers went overseas and never came home, or came home and were never the same. Forever changed.

Was it all bad? I don’t really know. There was a lot to learn then, and I’ll probably keep learning.