September 11, 2001
Through a teenager’s eyes, all the way in California
A recent high school graduate, weeks away from starting my freshman year at a CSU. That’s where I was at in my life.
I was asleep in my childhood bedroom, enjoying my last few carefree days of summer when a friend called me on my analog cell phone to see if I knew what was going on.
No memory as to what was said. I don’t remember feeling scared. Maybe I was in shock. I turned on my TV/VCR combo and watched in confusion.
My initial thoughts went straight to wondering if it would affect the start date or school overall. The ignorant, privileged, egocentric mind of an 18-year-old getting ready to start her life.
I was mesmerized by how calm President Bush was when he was interrupted from reading to a class full of children.
The planes crashing, New York slowly darkening with ash, people running in the streets, and what several of us thought were papers falling from the buildings were replayed over and over and over.
Operation Yellow Ribbon
The conversations I remembered were of unity, banning together as a nation in mourning.
A popular crafting store was handing out little yellow ribbons for people to stop by and pick up, to show their support for their fellow American citizens. Through my anxiety of doing something like this for the first time, I drove myself to the store, proudly got my yellow ribbon with the tiny loops around the edges, and proudly wore it on my shirt.
Writing this and reflecting back on 9/11/2001, I don’t recall the exact purpose of the yellow ribbon. After some research, Operation Yellow Ribbon comes up. Canadians helped Americans by allowing our planes still in the air to ground in their airports, welcoming American citizens while American officials figured out how to safely proceed.
I felt the unity in Operation Yellow Ribbon more than I felt the fear of terrorism. It is something I feel blessed to have experienced and remember.
The recall of a teenager with no connection to anyone involved. My first core memory that defined terrorism.
This was when I still used aluminum foil for the carne asadas (slang for BBQ) instead of for my figurative tin foil hat.
Souls lost and prayed for
8 Children.
258 Hispanics/Latin Americans.
In the book, The Undocumented Americans, author Karla Villavicencio includes the story of undocumented Hispanic workers at Ground Zero. Although I haven’t read it yet, I’m eager to absorb these stories.
The book, The Undocumented Americans by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio, is associated with an affiliate link of mine. I’ll receive a kickback from Amazon at no added expense to you if you use the link to make a purchase. Thank you 🙏🏼.
Total 2,996 people.
Statistics that for me, bring the tragedy closer to home.
Souls that were trivialized to numbers for history, research, and quantitative purposes. It can’t be easy assigning a number to a soul. At least it shouldn’t be without some sort of esteemed reverence.
How do you even begin to offer support and understanding?
To this day, I still haven’t encountered closer degrees of separation between myself and the victims and family members of the tragedy.
The closest I came to people who experienced 9/11 firsthand, were the fictional movies influenced by the event, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and Remember Me.
This is hard to write about. It feels wrong to write about something that didn’t impact me personally. Like, no matter what I write won’t come close to honoring those who tragically lost their lives or whose lives were forever changed on that day. I can’t begin to fathom processing that.
What is the most supportive way for us who were not directly affected by such devastation to offer support from afar? Is taking the time to allow space for prayers, thoughts, and overall recognition for the souls impacted adequate? How about having an open conversation over social media or with our loved ones, sharing the moment in remembrance, together? How is that enough?
My thoughts and prayers are with anyone grieving, past or present, from the terrorist attacks on this day. May you feel God’s peace when you need it the most.