America’s Second “day of Infamy”

Yesterday was the 8th anniversary of 9/11

It was shocking to realize that there are children to whom 9/11/2001 is a moment in history.  They were not born or were too young to make a real-time emotional connection to this tragic event.  News reports and the web are full of the need for educative material for these young citizens.

December 7, 1941 – ‘A Day of Infamy’

I was born two years (almost to the day) after December 7, 1941.  World War II was still happening and I was aware of little except my mother’s hidden worry and my father’s absence while in the service.  Still this day and its impact was very much an active subject in conversations and the media.  I vividly remember the joy of VJ day.  I remember my father’s absence again during the Korean War.

For all this remembering and all the anniversaries, tributes and commemoratives; for all my awareness of its affect on my family, there was no true emotional connection.  It was history — not an occurrence.

September 11, 2001 – American Soil Proves Vulnerable

On that day I was a daughter, a mother of two adult children and grandmother of four – soon to be five – children.  Being the proverbial night owl, I had settled down for a nap that morning.  Less than two hours later I woke up to the image on my television of a plane hitting a building.  I was still groggy and wondering what movie I was inadvertently watching.

It was no movie.  Like many others, I watched in disbelief, dawning horror and intense grief as the realization struck home.  People like myself, innocent and unaware, were dying; dying at the hands of individuals who believed they were making the world a better place — for those who believed as they did.  The day grew older but the horror didn’t fade.  Like most I went through disbelief, realization, fear, grief then pure rage.  The victims had done nothing to warrant their death.  It could have been myself or anyone else going about their lives.

The fanaticism that has plagued mankind through the Crusades, The Inquisitions, Aryan Purity, and all manner of acts based on beliefs had made its way to my home — America.  Typically I, who had plenty to say about our political system’s shortcomings, found deeper pride in my country and our way of life.  I became determined I would not let this change the way I lived.  I displayed my flag proudly and welcomed the influx of patriotic songs and art.