Never Forget.
I remember exactly where I was.
I was young; I was naive, and I was a kid.
I was in my sixth grade math class.
When one of my teachers ran in, on the verge of hysterics, I thought it was just another bad day; that something had happened far away. I knew that nothing could ever happen here, though. This is America, I thought. What could happen? Who would try?
And then they rushed us downstairs to the television. We watched replays of the first plane hitting the first tower, and it was then I began to realize something might actually be happening. But as the minutes passed, I slipped back into my naivety. I chose to believe what they were saying on the news, that perhaps this was just an accident.
Then we watched the second plane slam into the second tower and it hit me: this was real. And that belief was further solidified by the near-collapse of my art teacher. She broke down, cupped her hands around her nose, and began to cry, saying, “Oh, my” over and over again.
I was scared that day. At that point, we thought “they” might bomb somewhere in the Midwest. No one had any idea what was going on, and the people we’d always trusted were at a loss for words. The only thing we had was each other and our faith in God.
In the days that followed we held out that the survivors in the rubble would be rescued, but with each hour that passed, even that hope grew dim.
The official count grew and grew, and in the end, nearly 3,000 people died that day.
But the story didn’t stop there. Thousands of emergency workers, airline staffers, air traffic controllers, and 911 dispatchers handled calls and rescues and held and listened to these victims as they spoke their last. In many cases there are recorded calls of people dying as the towers collapsed. Those people are burdened with the fact that they are the last human beings those people ever spoke with on this earth. They listened to them as they screamed in agony and fear and then continued to listen until there simply was no more.
Even after all of this, some people choose to disgrace the memory of these normal, everyday Americans that had their lives ripped out form under them and destroyed by the work of Islamofascists bent on destroying America by denying the events occurred or choosing to ignore them, to “move on.”
But in utter defiance, we flew our flag. And she still flies today.
As I handed out flags today on the Pittsburg State Campus in memoriam of the lives lost eight years ago today, I was encouraged with the hundreds who gladly accepted them and utterly repulsed by those who gave me a look that said Why would I want a flag?
America, may you never, ever refuse a flag on September 11. May you always remember and honor the memory of our fellow citizens who were brutally mass-murdered on that fateful day eight years ago today.
May you never forget the sacrifices made that day.
