Ten Years Later, Remembering 9/11

In these days and weeks leading up to the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I had been doing my best to avoid the coverage that was inundating television, newspapers and the Internet. I don’t like thinking about 9/11 very much, and I knew that sensationalist media would come across as insincere and exploitative. This was proving to be too difficult a task though, and I eventually gave in. It turns out I’m glad I did.

I was 15 on Sept., 11, 2001, a junior at . As far as I’m concerned, no age could have been worse. Had I been a few years younger, I might have been blissfully ignorant of what exactly the attack meant, just as I was when, at age nine, the Oklahoma City bombing occurred. Had I been a few years older, I might have been able to develop a firmer and more educated grasp on what exactly the attack meant, just as I had when, at age 25, Osama bin Laden was killed.

Instead, I was left confused and scared, unable to understand how America, economically and technologically dominant over the rest of the world, could be vulnerable to invasion. While I had no family in New York or working at the Pentagon, I shared the fear felt by friends and classmates who did. I remember one particular girl whose mom or dad was at the Pentagon, and after learning that the rest of the school day would not be cancelled (a decision that was later reversed), told an administrator, in not such polite words, “I don’t care what you say, I’m going to make sure my family is safe.”

It was that fear that has been present for a good portion of my life. Those younger than me may have little to no memory of a pre-9/11 world, which is why I thought it was ridiculous that the millennial generation was criticized by baby boomers for celebrating the death of Osama bin Laden on the basis that they couldn’t properly remember just who and what bin Laden had been. I certainly wouldn’t question someone born in 1965 celebrating the end of the Cold War just because they weren’t alive for the Cuban Missile Crisis, and the same logic applies today, especially when some of those 10-year-olds in 2001 are now fighting the same war that came as a response to the attacks. While I don’t rejoice in the specific death of any man, radical terrorist or otherwise, bin Laden’s death represented a tangible end to an era of fear that defined the 21st century and was a lone bright spot amid news of a crumbling economy and political divisiveness.

So it seemed natural that as America continues to struggle in so many areas, I was reluctant to pile on memories of our darkest day, especially ones that are already so nebulous for me. It was then that I stumbled upon story after story of heroism and sacrifice that saved lives on that day. I finally realized, as I hope many of you already have, that to remember 9/11 isn’t to remember the pain and suffering of the aftermath, but rather to remember the bravery exhibited by so many and the indomitable spirit that isn’t strictly American, but inherent to all humankind.

I was drawn particularly to the story of one man, Welles Crowther, a 24-year-old who died when the South Tower collapsed. Crowther made several trips up and down the tower to usher people to safety, and has been credited with directly saving dozens of lives. While I think everyone likes to imagine they would act courageously if the opportunity arose, I can’t honestly promise myself that I would have done the same thing as Crowther, a feeling enforced by the fact that he was just about my age at the time. He must have realized that there was little time before the building would collapse, and that if he was to continue to help the injured and trapped, he could only have slim hope with regard to his own life.

In an interview with Rolling Stone in November 2007, The Daily Show’s Jon Stewart had this to say about the events of September 11: “The reason I don't worry about society is, nineteen people knocked down two buildings and killed thousands. Hundreds of people ran into those buildings to save them. I'll take those odds every [expletive] day.”

I think that’s the frame of mind we have to have when we reflect on what happened 10 years ago Sunday. To remember it any other way would be a disservice to both the victims and survivors, and the sacrifices they all had to make.