Friday, September 9th, 2011

now browsing by day

 

ten years ago

As I sit in bumper to bumper traffic, slowly edging our way across the Susquehanna on 81 S on our way to what could be one of the biggest games ever, I am reminded again of the heaviness of this weekend. Please know that the significance hasn’t escaped me.

Ten years ago I had just begun my study abroad semester in Italy. Then, just as now- and probably even more-so – I was bursting with excitement for all the adventures that lay ahead.

It was four o’clock in the afternoon when I emerged from the basement of our school to refill my water before my next class began. It was a beautiful sunny day, with blue skies and little dots of puffy white clouds. At the end of the driveway ramp stood my roommate, her face red from crying, tears still streaming down her face.

“We’re being bombed!” She sobbed. And I, in complete naivete, looked to the skies.

Shaking her head, she said “No! America’s being bombed!”

I was even more confused. That didn’t make any sense … And then my heart started thumping and my throat closed up and I asked her where. She said she didn’t know – she’d only just heard. Together we walked into the computer lab. A classmate was standing in the middle of the room reading a news report. Something about planes and buildings collapsing.

Something about New York City.

I think all Americans lives changed that day. Our bubble of safely was shattered in an utterly devastating way.  In Rome, on September 11, 2001, shop owners and deli workers stood outside their businesses as panicked American students navigated their way back to the residence halls.  In broken English they offered us the use of their phones, or anything they could do to help.  I sat on the floor of my apartment, dialing every number I knew over and over again, to no answer.

Where my parents flying for business today?  Were they on those planes?  Did I know anyone in the towers? Luckily for me, my nearest and dearest were safe ~ but others on my program were not as lucky.  We were unable to get news quickly ~ CNN was the only TV station in English, which was good ~ but it felt like we just watched the second tower fall over and over again.  No news of survivors, no way to get through to the USA.

It was a terrifying and frustrating day.

In the subsequent weeks, some students went home.  Our travel freedom was curtailed ~ we were asked not to journey to North Africa, and to strongly consider where we went in Eastern Europe.  We were advised not to wear anything that immediately identified us as Americans (sweatpants, tee-shirts with English slogans, sneakers, etc).

And then it faded into the background.  Rome, and the students who remained, moved forward, and while we talked about it, it felt as though the more time passed, the further away the tragedy was.

So it was jarring upon returning home in December to find that in America, 9/11 felt as though it happened yesterday.  It brought into sharp perspective the reality that my experience of the event, and the experience of the event for people who were on American soil when it happened, were very different.

I am humbled on a daily basis the selflessness of our troops, and the job they do when they board a plane and head overseas to ensure that our freedom and the safely of our country is maintained to the best of their abilities.  I am in awe of our country, so resilient in the face of such unimaginable tragedy.  I cry every time I hear a story of someone who lost a loved one in a tower, or on flight 93.

I am proud to be an American.  I am proud of my country.  I know that we will never forget 9/11, and I know that we will continue to honor all the heroes (both sung and unsung) from that day in 2001, through the present.