I am ten. I just got home from school, and as I sit down for my usual after-school meal, I notice our tube TV doesn't play my regular afternoon cartoon show.
Instead, the news is on. An image of two tall buildings with smoke coming out of it is on every single local channel right now.
My dad is behind me, baking the next day's batch of bread for our home bakery business. He doesn't speak, but I notice him looking at the TV occasionally, his brows furrowed.
I eat my late lunch quietly.
New York seems like such a faraway place, but I was told one day we will go there. At this age I think that "New York" is the whole United States. And when I think of the US, I think of snow. What does snow feel like? I don't know. All I've known is the heat and humidity of the Philippines.
After a while, my dad finally speaks. Calm and eloquent as always, he says in perfect English, "Remember this date, because this is history and this will be in the history books for generations to come."
The next day, the whole school is somber. We all feel this weight. We carry it quietly throughout the day, even though we can't fully explain it.
I have never set foot on American soil at this point, yet even from all the way across the world, a mere ten-year-old, I share this grief with America.
Dear reader,
I am currently sitting at the airport for my 3.5 hour layover. I have just been fed (as always) by the sweetest volunteers at the USO, my favorite stop at airports.
Early this morning, Pensacola Airport had a commemorative ceremony, effectively delaying security, thus leaving passengers rushing to make their flights once they opened back up. Thankfully I was able to get through before the blockade.
Ngl, flying on this day always gives me an eerie feeling. It's like everyone here feels it, but no one dares to speak about it. Coincidentally, I am flying for drill weekend with the reserve. It adds a solemn kind of purpose to this trip.
I felt inspired to write this today because I came across a post asking millennials where we were on this day 25 years ago. Because my late father instructed me to remember that day, it has remained one of the most vivid memories of my childhood, and of him.
Now, 25 years later, sitting here surrounded by veterans and service members alike, I am starkly reminded of why I joined the United States Armed Forces.
With years behind me in the uniformed services, naturally I have developed some cynicism to a certain extent, just like everyone else who have ever worn the uniform.
Despite it all, I don't take my service for granted. I know I joined because I wanted to be part of something bigger. That remains true today.
The current state of our country, no matter how much we try to avoid it or ignore it, regardless of the angle from which you are looking, is clearly and dangerously divided. There is anger, hate, and pain everywhere.
It's days like today that allows us to zoom out far enough to look at the big picture (hopefully it's the case for you), and remember that beyond the titles and political parties, or lack thereof, we vehemently make our identities, there is only this truth: we are Americans. Period.
It's cliche, I know. But at some point (preferably sooner than later), we have got to wake up and ask ourselves, what the heck have we come to? And stand with one another (whatever that looks like) as Americans and nothing else, just like everyone did on that fateful day.
Today I think of Americans who lost their lives that day, and hold close to my heart those they left behind. I hope you have taken a minute to reflect today. If you'd like, tell me, where were you on this day 25 years ago?
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Thank you for sharing your story; your message was beyond eloquent. One thing about that day is how deeply it affected everyone around the world, not just Americans.
Before 9/11, America felt impenetrable. Safety was never questioned, and there was an innate sense of patriotism, freedom, and security.
I was six years old and had just started first grade. This remains one of the earliest memories of my life.
I was getting ready for school before the first tower was hit (PST). My six-year-old mind couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening, other than knowing it was something terrible. We watched the second plane hit, a moment I will never forget.
When I got to school, TVs were rolled into our classrooms, and footage of the towers being hit and collapsing played throughout the day. Hearing the firefighter PASS devices going off will forever be a sound my brain will recognize.. I think this is why this is so ingrained in my head. A six year old brain should never have seen what we save. Then again no age is appropriate so see this. To go through this. We had an assembly, and I distinctly remember the expressions on the staff’s faces: somber, confused, and deeply worried.
I felt terrified. Like you, I was far away, across the country from this but it felt like it was in our back yard… that no where was safe. We had always been taught that we were safe and protected, and that fear didn’t go away for a very long time. In fact, a part of it is still there. Years later, when I flew to NYC in middle school to drop my brother off at college, I was still terrified that something similar might happen to our flight.
However, one powerful thing that emerged from the tragedy was how our nation came together. There was a incredible sense of unity and pride in being American.
At the same time, as I grew older, I also witnessed a dark shift, a rise in hostility and prejudice toward the Muslim and Middle Eastern communities. That remains one of the most tragic outcomes of that period, alongside the thousands of lives lost.
I had a family friend who toured during Desert Storm and chose to go back to be apart of Operation Iraqi Freedom. I remember when my brother signed up for ROTC his sophomore year of college of being terrified of him potentially going there, knowing how horribly it affected the service member we knew that did several tours.
There’s a lot of times now where it’s very hard to feel proud as an American. Our communities are not the same anymore. We are so so divided. And I think one of the biggest lessons people should always remember when remembering this day in history is coming together and supporting one another regardless of your nationality, regardless of your skin color, regardless of your financial status in the world. This act was a senseless, horrific, upon our world by people horrible people who do not define us as a world, as religions, a Country, a city, or people. We will never forget. 💚