remember

I remember listening to my mother recount the day of JFK’s assassination when I was a child. I couldn’t fathom how the memory remained so vivid in her mind. She remembered where she was, what time it was, even the smell of her classroom when his death was announced at her school. How could a moment be so definitive that you can almost relive it in your mind many years later? I just couldn’t grasp it.

And then September 11, 2001 happened. And I understood how a single moment can redefine history, a nation, a culture, a generation. Now I am not ordinarily a nostalgic person…you know, the type who wants to relive and recount every defining moment of their life, but this day was different. It has affected every area of life, cascading down through national security to military to general culture to individual mindset.

I was blowdrying my hair. It was the day of my 9:35 to 10:50a class my sophomore year of college. i was bent over drying my roots for more volume when my roommate and best friend Jessie appeared in my doorway. I remember she kind of startled me when I threw my head back over. She looked somber. ‘someone just bombed the world trade center,’ she told me. ‘really? That sucks,’ I reply. And I turn off my hairdryer and go into her room to watch the news coverage. I watch for a few minutes and then get back to getting ready for class. About 20 minutes later she came into my room again. ‘a plane just flew into the pentagon and my mom works a few blocks from there and I can’t get in touch with her.’ What? Oh my gosh! Well keep trying. I sit with her for a few moments and then announce that I am off to class.

I am one of those people who sometimes take a while to process things and really realize the impact of them. It is not until I reach the door to the lecture hall that it all hits me. no one can talk about anything else, with good reason. Quite a few students are missing, and in typical Peabody fashion, my professor facilitates a question and answer and discussion time. We adjourn early and I rush home to be with jess. She and tyler are parked on the couch when I walk in and I explain that it took me a while to process everything and ask about her mom. She is fine, and jess notes that she had been totally befuddled by my reaction earlier that morning. I was too, in retrospect.

Vanderbilt didn’t officially cancel any classes, but many professors did and/or they offered lax attendance policies for the next few days. I watched in awe as the city where I had been just days earlier for the US Open struggled to find itself and as a nation unified under a tragedy. It was amazing. During the next few weeks, it didn’t matter whether you were black or white, democrat or republican, rich or poor, northern or southern. I think we identified ourselves only as Americans, rocked by tragedy, compelled to do something for our fellow citizens. It’s strange how tragedy draws us together.

I remember President Bush declaring that our ‘nation would define our times, not be defined by them.’ This statement has always been true about us. The United States is far from perfect. We have fallible humans leading us. We as people who struggle to find balance in our differences. But we stand for justice, morality, and those who cannot stand for themselves. And that is what makes our country great. That’s why I am proud to be an American.

Every year, as 9/11 approaches, I project that it will be a day just like any other for me, that the ceremonies and vigils won’t really affect me. but they always do. I got chills this morning listening to a compilation of stories and speeches that were told shortly after 9/11. I got teary-eyed as I listen to a family’s story of the struggle to find their son. I swell with pride when I hear the resolve of our leaders and our people. It still affects me. and I bet it always will.