Day Two.
Today marks 10 days from the 20-year anniversary of September 11, 2001.
A truly sobering though. Particularly as we consider how far — or perhaps not — we have come from that point in time. And how far — or perhaps not — we have come from understanding the who, what, when, where, and why behind the events that transpired that day, as well as everything that has happened since. We didn’t understand any of this at the time. The question is — do we now?
I am not going to try and pretend I have any right to discuss the personal impact of this day for so many others. I was not in New York, Pennsylvania, or Washington DC on the day of the attacks. I did not lose a family member, friend, colleague, or acquaintance. But I do remember.
I was in elementary school in Maryland. Starting late morning, our teachers began shepherding the whole student body population into the basement cafeteria and multi-purpose room. They then called for an early dismissal, asking parents who were able to pick up their kids from school. We didn’t understand this.
Unlike many other schools where the images of the day were being shown on classroom television screens, our school shielded us from what had happened. They thought it was best for the parents to fill their own children in on the events of the day, in however way they wished. We learned later there was concern around our proximity to both Washington DC and the BWI airport. Hence the movement to the basement.
Get LM’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
I offer no judgment on the decision to not inform students about what was happening; everyone was operating in a state of unknown shock and response. But as a result — oh, the rumors started swirling. I overheard one in the girl’s bathroom about a man who was kidnapping children in his white van. Of course — I ran out to tell all my friends of this horrid and terrifying news, only contributing to the rumor mill spinning. We didn’t understand this.
My siblings and I were lucky in that my Mom was home. She was able to come pick us up. She also picked up my best friend, as her Dad worked nights and was, thus, both likely unavailable and unaware of the news. I still remember the image of my Mom walking up to the front door my friend’s house, ringing the doorbell, and the half-asleep face of my friend’s Dad coming to the door. She delivered the latest. His face changed dramatically. He seemed to understand.
I also remember when my Mom told me what had happened that day — out of earshot of my younger siblings.
My first response — wow, I am so glad it was only this; this is so much better than the kidnapper rumor going around school. My Mom’s response to her 10-year-old — why yes, honey it is.
I didn’t understand this.
