Seventeen years ago, we owned an old hand-me-down tube television. The tricky thing about this tv was that it took a variable amount of time to warm up and be prepared to change channels. In the meantime, this crazy freebie only showed PBS in Español. (That's Spanish for Spanish.) I often turned on the junker while I was in the shower, so it might have sufficient prep time to give me the Today show while I got ready to leave to morning classes. Sometimes this plan worked; other times I was tutored with a morning review from Plaza Sesemo y mas adelante, Mimi y Señor Bobo. As poor, young, married college students, we made this dual-language television set work, as it was the best we could afford.
Seventeen years ago, Plaza Sesemo had just clicked over to English channels, as I watched the live footage of an airplane fly into the second World Trade Tower. I stood in my bedroom, in awe, to learn that what I thought must be a horrible accident was actually the second plane to crash into the buildings that morning. The shock of it all was more than I could even comprehend. (Not to mention that, of course, my courses were still being held, and absences would be counted against my grade.)
This was before the time when most humans carry high-powered, tiny computers in our hands, capable of so much more than a lesson from Señor Bobo. I had to leave the news from all channels and go to class for hours, not knowing any further information. How nearly impossible it was to concentrate on lessons. Questions filled my thoughts:
Who has done this?
How were they able to do this?
What does this mean?
Is this war?
Never did I ever think the disaster would reach the level of destruction and loss of life it did. My first class went on as normal, but the news hit campus and the rest of my classes were canceled for the day. When I FINALLY walked in the door a few hours later, I caught a glimpse of the second tower falling. I stood, watching the [good] tv in total disbelief. I was in shock. I'm probably naive, but I just never imagined that there would be a collapse. I couldn't comprehend that level of destruction and hate for America or our way of life or terrorists' ideas of our lives. My heart broke for all the families and our country. I couldn't imagine a portion of all the ways that all of our lives would change.
Today I sit in a chair I've filled for at least 50 times. I think back to all the ways our country has changed in the last seventeen years. I also ponder all of the ways my life has changed in the last 5 years, since cancer has threatened to collapse me and the hope for my future. My heart still aches for all the destruction of 9/11. However, I'm hopeful that there is still good in humanity. I hate that it takes a terrible attack to bring it out the good, but I pray that we can honor the memory of the innocent people who had their lives stolen that day and all those who were affected by loving and serving those around us.
There is hate and war and terror in the world. There is also love and hope and faith. A lot more can be done with the latter. The anniversary of this terrible tragedy renew in me a desire to make the world a better place.
Hope, faith, and love can heal this world from the path of hate it seems to be following. I continue to use those powerful tools in my fight against cancer, and I truly believe that they are what has helped me stay healthy.
That, and amazing shoes. And, flu shots.
