September 11, 2001
I was working for JP Morgan Chase in Tampa, Florida. My cubicle was near the window where I could look out and see a constant stream of takeoffs and landings at Tampa International Airport, which was right across the expressway from my office. That fateful morning in September, that view changed dramatically. Suddenly, there were no planes in the sky. No jumbo jets roaring from the tarmac, taking travelers to far-off destinations. No planes gliding in from the beautiful Florida sky bringing tourists to Tampa Bay’s famous white sand beaches. Odd. Eerie. Otherworldly.
A co-worker leaned into my space and said, “Hey, man. Some kind of airplane just ran into the World Trade Center.”
“What?” I asked. “You mean some kind of private plane or something? What would cause that?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Let’s go to the break room. It’s probably on the TV.”
We did, and it was. Workers from all over the floor were cramming into the little break room, our necks craned up toward the television set anchored to the corner of the ceiling. CNN was broadcasting live. Smoke was billowing out of the North Tower. No one really knew what was going on, but it was clear this was not caused by a small aircraft.
As we watched, mostly silent and horrified by what we were seeing, it inexplicably got worse. A commercial airliner came into view on the screen and slammed into the South Tower as we all watched. A collective gasp could be heard in the break room. Someone said, “Hey, we have an office there, don’t we?” Someone else, maybe two or three, wept. No one had any answers.
Twenty-five years later, there are still no real answers. Sure, we know the mechanical details. Terrorists commandeered commercial airliners and used them and the innocent human beings inside as weapons against our country. Standing in that break room, none of us knew yet about the other attacks going on, or the other victims of unmitigated hate being killed that day, and none of us could fathom how this could come about on American soil. I argue that we still don’t. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not some tinfoil hat guy saying it was all fake. No. I know better. I worked with people who lost loved ones that day. It happened. It was all too real. I just can’t figure out how such a coordinated attack, using a system that was supposed to be secure, achieved such success. And it would have been worse had it not been for the heroic and nearly superhuman efforts by passengers on Flight 93 who overpowered hijackers and drove their plane into the ground in a field in Pennsylvania.
Maybe we had it too good. Maybe we didn’t appreciate this country or what it stands for. Maybe we didn’t understand that, while never perfect, America is still the home of liberty and a beacon of self-government that people still risk their lives to reach. Maybe we spent too much time complaining and whining about minor inconveniences and petty annoyances. Maybe we had grown complacent. Maybe we had gotten to the point where we figured we were distant from and immune to tragedy we saw happening in other countries to other people.
On September 11, 2001, it all came home. We desperately need to remember that. We need to push back on any attempt to trivialize what happened that day. America is still a place worth fighting for. America is still a shining city on a hill. Sure, we’ve got our problems, and sure, we make a ton of mistakes, but there’s nothing like the United States of America anywhere in the world. I’m not proud of everything my country does, and I’m certainly not proud of every politician who struts around in self-importance and doesn’t really care about what this Great Experiment is all about, but I am proud to be an American, and I will never forget the murderous attack waged on my home that awful morning. Do not take freedom for granted. Many have died to give it to you. Many died that day, merely because of the jealous rage of deranged zealots. Those are all real human lives, and we must forever hold them in our memories, in our hearts, and in our history.
Never forget.