Everybody wants to know: What were you doing when it happened? We all remember. Where we were, what we were doing, what our plans were that suddenly got altered on that Tuesday morning. When our country would be forever changed. Who did it? And why? How can someone hate other human beings so much as to do something so awful? What’s puzzling is how much they must have resented us, if they were willing to kill themselves as well.
Many families lost loved ones on that day. Just imagine waiting at school to be picked up; and your dad never coming. Just imagine your fiancé taking half the day off from work to spend time with you, except he never clocked out. Or your daughter, who you’ve always worried about in the “hustle and bustle” city of New York, interning to become a stock broker, and never coming home to supper.
What was I doing you may ask? My fourth week of Kindergarten had just started. I was especially excited because it was my sixth birthday. Scary coincidence? Not when you think about the time I was born: the exact time American Airlines Flight 11 crashed into the World Trade Center’s North Tower (1 WTC). Specifically, I remember being sung to and getting to pick a toy out of the prize box. We had no clue what was going on, but for some reason there was an early-out. My family picked me up, and I was still oblivious to what was going on. A trip up to the nearest town with a Happy Joe’s was in order, and after a few hours of endless pizza and fun, playing games, we left. I can still see the T.V. showing graphics of tall buildings falling and burning with dark grey smoke everywhere. Something I would be reminded of later in my older sister’s video project for school with a song that perfectly fit; “God Bless the U.S.A.”
Eleven years after my Scooby-Doo themed party and Polly Pocket present, I realize how much we have bounced back as a country. There is truly no greater comeback and no greater country in the world than the United States of America. We were and still are united because of that day. Someone came into our land and threatened our lives and safety. No one is going to get away with that. This may be the root of my interest in becoming a West Point graduate and officer in the United States Army, serving my country as much as possible.
My whole life, I’ve had to listen to people tell me how “horrible my birthday is.” They ask me questions like, “How can you celebrate on a day meant for mourning?” or “When’s your birthday?” Needless to say, they cringe when I reply. It doesn’t bother me the slightest bit. People with 9/11 birthdays (like Ludacris, the rapper) are thought to carry messages of hope, unity, and rebuilding.
Though I wish the terrible massacre had never happened and feel some guilt, I am ok with my birthday and wouldn’t change it for the world. It makes me who I am as a person; sentimental, emotional, and extremely patriotic. My destiny was chosen by God on September 11, 1995 at 8:46 A.M. I love this country, and plan to continue celebrating my birthday with remembrance for the lost loved ones and a deep appreciation for the men and women fighting everyday for our freedom. God Bless the U.S.A. J (581)
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