Twenty-five years. It didn’t dawn on me until one of my colleagues mentioned it in our editorial meeting last week. But, yes, it has been a quarter-century since Sept. 11, 2001, the line in the sand between the old world and the new, for good or ill (but mostly ill, in terms of what has come to pass since then).
I’m a lifelong eternal optimist. I’m also a realist, but one who will continually give someone the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. I believe everyone is innocent until proven guilty when it comes to life itself and daily interactions. What 9/11 did, for most folks, was shift that entire mindset in the previous sentence to the perspective we as a country have adopted at every level of society since, from your neighbor all the way to the White House, one where everyone around you is “guilty until proven innocent.” Fear, basically.
Sheesh, I mean, I get it. It’s hard to get out of bed on certain days, where you don’t want to scroll your phone or walk out the front door and into another day in a modern world of chaos and confusion, of seemingly more unknowns than knowns in the digital age of massive corporations and greed, where you and me (and you, too) feel like we’re just looked at as disposable entities in this current juncture of rampant affairs when it comes to AI and data centers.
And don’t even get me started on American relations with the rest of the planet. This isn’t even about political parties. This is about how we as human beings are being treated by those in control, and how we as a country are treating other nations that used to call us allies, that used to come together with us in our time of need or in theirs. This isn’t the country my grandfathers fought for in World War II, let alone all those who didn’t make it out alive.
I digress. Take a deep breath and remember: eternal optimist. Remember that the energy you radiate is the energy you attract. You are a magnet for what you put out into the universe. This is truth. I also believe in the pendulum swing of justice and peace. The ebb and flow of existence, of one’s intent and the powers of the ether high above us working in tandem to right the wrongs of the past. To that, karma is real. Don’t forget the importance of kindness and compassion, and practice those two things without expectation or favor.
I was 16 years old and a junior in high school when I watched the Twin Towers collapse live on national television in my second period social studies classroom. The school was located just a couple miles down Route 276 from the U.S. border crossing into Canada. Upstate New York. The North Country. Some six hours due south is the island of Manhattan. But, on Sept. 11, 2001, that physical distance was erased, just like the thousands of lives lost that day in New York City, Washington D.C., and a cornfield in rural Pennsylvania.
It’s not like the topic of 9/11 is a dead horse at this point. It won’t ever be, in essence, and nor should it be. But, pretty much everything has been said that could be expressed on that day. Again, for good or ill. And yet, that day was the line in the sand, at least when it comes to my generation, millennials. Everyone older than us were adults and situated in their respective lives and routines. Everyone below us was too young to remember 9/11. We were school kids who had our world flipped upside down. And it’s never been flipped back.
I reflect on that day, often. We all do, honestly, especially folks in my age bracket (late 30s/early 40s), with the majority of our lives spent carefully navigating the rough, choppy and heinous waters of our world post-9/11. Of course, we remember the fallen, either on that day or overseas in the ongoing “War on Terror.” I think of all my high school buddies who immediately joined the military following 9/11, many more so when we invaded Iraq in March 2003, my senior class graduating just three months later. A lot of those folks were never, ever the same when they returned home from wartorn places.
Are we any safer 25 years later? No, not really. Thankfully (and fingers crossed) we haven’t had another 9/11 on American soil. But, the lack of international terrorism on our shores has been filled with division between our own citizens, much of that rift rooted in 9/11 and actions taken by the government thereafter. Foreign wars, foreign oil, in bed with dubious foreign countries, and all of it still happening each day amid our state of things.
Regardless, I think of those lives lost on 9/11 and what their legacy is. Heroes who helped save strangers instead of themselves. Police officers and firefighters who stormed up dozens of floors in full gear to bring aid. Those who didn’t make it out of the towers alive. Those who did, who still carry a heart of compassion and perseverance within. And those who never forgot what it means to reach out and help someone. They are the essence of not only the United States, but, more importantly, of what it means to be human.
Twenty-five years. What’s next, eh? This quarter-century whirlwind of shaky economies, political strife, a pandemic, violence across the country and around the world, unrelenting emotional trauma, incessant white noise echoing from every direction, and the sheer physical exhaustion of simply standing up and trying to be a productive, caring member of your community.
And yet, I remain. So do you. Life is too precious to let it slip through your fingers. Human connection is too important to simply turn your back and ignore the person next to you. Love does make the world go-round, not money, especially since it seems only those high above are actually laughing all the way to the bank. No matter, I will always keep my head held high. I’ll always offer a handshake of friendship and understanding. And I’ll always make sure to stand up for others in need, and help them unconditionally. You dig?