Like most reading this article, I was fairly young when the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon occurred. I remember being shocked and saddened, but my life was not terribly altered by the events. Perhaps it was the narcissistic nature of most teens or maybe it was the geographic remoteness of living in Utah, but I picked up and moved on pretty quickly.
The passing years found me making token efforts in an attempt to commemorate the day, such as visiting local flag memorials or observing a minute of silence. Unfortunately, along with a good portion of America, 9/11 lost some of its emotional intensity as the years rolled on. I felt a vague sadness at my complacency but remained emotionally detached nonetheless.
This past spring, 9/11 became personal. I was in New York for an internship with a newspaper and was relaxing at the end of my first week. Late that Sunday night, May 1, I received a few texts that Osama bin Laden had been killed. I waited in a packed common room in the International House near Harlem for President Barack Obama’s announcement. After he appeared and delivered the announcement we all had been waiting for — the U.S. Military had killed bin Laden — my friend looked at me and asked if I wanted to go to ground zero. Without hesitation I said yes. This city was where it started and I knew I would regret not going. At midnight, six women took a subway to ground zero and emerged into a massive celebration. People were climbing on light poles, carrying banners with the words written ‘Obama 1; Osama 0,’ singing ‘Hey, Hey, Hey, goodbye’, and the like. When people in the crowd around us became more rowdy and intoxicated and it became apparent there would not be any formal ceremony, we headed back. Although the celebration was not what I had expected, I left satisfied in having made the attempt.
The next day I was assigned to go to ground zero and cover the stories of people gathered there. It was late morning when I arrived and the change in mood was palpable. The loud celebration present only a few hours before had been replaced with a mood of pensive contemplation. Various citizens dotted the benches, curbs and sidewalks, streaming in and out of St. Paul’s chapel — housed across the street from the emerging trade center construction — and weaved their respective ways through paths surrounding old graves in front of the chapel.
The chapel housed several memorials dedicated to the 9/11 victims and their families, ranging from thousands of origami cranes to teddy bears to photos of the deceased. An orchestra played at the front of the chapel and lit candles burned in their red votive.
During one of my turns around the courtyard, I saw former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani, flanked by media and staff. I arrived just in time for a man to present Giuliani with a flag containing the names of the victims in 9/11 and to hear Giuliani tell the man, “God bless you.” Later, at a news conference across the street, Giuliani was still holding the flag.
Throughout the day I set my reporter’s hat aside and became a citizen. The most memorable was when I sat and comforted a young man who was weeping inconsolably over a lost loved one. I sat with my arm around him and, unsure of what to say, I assured him I would keep him in my prayers. I spoke to some girls in their late teens who were protesting the celebration of bin Laden’s death, claiming although he was a terrorist, he was still a human and a death should never be celebrated. A few carried pictures of loved ones lost in the attacks and shared their stories of feeling relief and closure when they heard the prior evening’s announcement. Former firefighters swapped stories of what it was like to be there that day. I met a man that day who told me he had been fired from his job because he insisted on taking Sept. 11 off from work each year, something his boss at the time did not agree with.
True to my word, I kept the young man in my prayers. More than that though, I kept the events of the day in my heart. I have often since been amazed at the liberties afforded us: the young man’s liberty to sit on a corner and weep; the liberty many have to take work off and remember loved ones lost; the liberty for those young adults to protest what they thought was a noble cause; the freedom to quit a job we do not like; the freedom of religion; the freedom to sometimes forget how many have sacrificed and died so we at times can take these liberties for granted.
It is hard to talk about 9/11 and the ensuing events without sounding trite. With this in mind, I hope to kindle in the reader a sense of remembrance and honor for the sacrifices made. As Nathaniel Hawthorne said, “Time flies over us but it leaves a shadow.” The shadow cast by the 9/11 attacks will forever remain in our hearts but in true American fashion we will continue to progress and move past each successive roadblock. As a country, may we move forward but never forget.
Whitney Evans is the tab editor at The Daily Universe and was interning in New York when Osama bin Laden was killed.
