I woke up Sunday morning with a weird feeling. I knew what day it was. I think every American wakes up every September 11th and know what day it is.
There are some days, like Sunday and the 4th of July to name a couple, that Americans just feel more patriotic. If you saw me on Sunday you would have had no doubt about that fact.
After I got out of bed and washed up I got dressed for the day. I started with my boxers that have Mickey Mouse in front of the American flag. I got them when I went to Disneyland almost exactly four years ago. It’s the most patriotic underwear I have, so it seemed like the right thing to wear.
I followed that up with a pair of Arizona brand jeans. I’ve only been to the actual state of Arizona once but I seem to have accumulated several pairs of their jeans.
I put on some Adidas socks and chose what I thought was the perfect shirt for the occasion.
It was my United States of America football shirt that I got during the 2006 World Cup in Germany while rooting for my team. It has the U.S. flag and a football on the front. After several washes here in Africa, the red on the flag has started to bleed over into the rest of the shirt.
I couldn’t think of anything more appropriate if I tried.
To top it all off I grabbed my baseball cap to put on my head. Baseball is known as “America’s Pastime” back home, as the unofficial main sport of America. It just happened to work out that my hat, for my beloved Minnesota Twins, was red, white and blue.
Basically, it looked like America threw up on me. But I didn’t care. Sunday, more so than most days, I wanted there to be absolutely no doubt where I came from. I’m very proud of my country.
During the day I thought a lot about back home. The American football season started and I couldn’t help but wonder how much my hometown Seattle Seahawks (projected to be one of the worst teams in the league by pretty much everybody) were losing by.
On September 11th I always think of two things. First, did I call my sister the day before to wish her a happy birthday (this year I did, from Sierra Leone; I think I should get bonus brother points for that). Second, I think about, and ultimately relive, my September 11th, 2001.
According to a poll that ran during a CNN program last Thursday, 97% of Americans remember exactly where they were on that Tuesday. I fall into that category.
I was 12 years old, and a seventh grader at Marysville Middle School. Usually I watched television in the morning while getting ready, but that particular morning I was running late and didn’t have time to turn the TV on.
Once I got to school I was greeted with my teacher, Mrs. Monica, looking at the television visibly upset. She had her hand over her mouth as we watched the replay of an airplane hitting the second World Trade Center Tower. We spent two hours watching the news in her class, before I had to change rooms and view CNN in my typing class.
By that time, neither Tower was still a part of the New York skyline.
Then I went to lunch where I (you guessed it) crowded around a television that had been put on a cart and wheeled into the small atrium in the middle of the school. My final three classes of the day also had the news on, with very little work getting done at school that day.
I was very young and didn’t know what was going on, but I knew it wasn’t good. And I knew I was scared.
Some of my teachers cried, the principal made a small announcement over the loudspeaker and the whole day nobody really knew what to do or what was going on.
As I got older I learned more about 9/11. When I was a junior in high school, my Advanced Placement U.S. History class had received funds to get brand new textbooks.
There was a whole chapter on the September 11th terrorist attacks and the subsequent War in Iraq. It was weird having lived through U.S. history and even weirder reading about it in class.
Now, 10 years later, I still don’t understand how anybody could do that. I’ll never feel the anger that led people to a plan that killed almost 3,000 people. And I’ll admit that a little part of me was happy when Osama bin Laden was killed in May, but it still doesn’t bring back all those people.
We didn’t need any reminder this week of the 10th anniversary of the attacks. However, that didn’t stop every news station here from running specials all week relating to September 11th. The National Geographic channel even got into the mix and incorporated the Twin Towers into the logo for it’s week long 9/11 coverage, having the two towers serve as the “11” and putting a “9/” before them. I’m not sure I liked this.
I wager that 9/11 is on Americans’ minds more than just once a year. We think about it when we’re frustrated going through airport security. Or when we see an old movie with the Twin Towers standing tall. Or when victims’ family members come home and their loved ones aren’t there.
On Sunday I went to my Editor’s house and watched part of the memorial in New York City, with President Barrack Obama and former President George W. Bush together. Even though I, like most of the world, am not a huge Bush fan, it was cool to see the past and present leaders of America standing together to honor those who lost their lives.
Two years ago I made my first (and really only) trip to New York City. I also went for a night this March on the drive to Philadelphia from Toronto, but I don’t really count that as a visit. All I did was go to different bars in Times Square and watch basketball. Actually, it was pretty cool, maybe it counts.
I did all the tourist stuff, like the Statue of Liberty and Times Square. I also made sure that I visited Ground Zero. It was an incredibly emotional and eerie experience.
There was a bronze sculpture along the sidewalk that showed firefighters reaching to help people, with the phrase “we will never forget” above it. That’s sort of become the motto of 9/11 back home. Looking at the sculpture I silently promised myself that I would do as it said.
All around Ground Zero there are skyscrapers taking off into the sky. Then, in the middle of all those large buildings, was a great big hole. They are rebuilding one great big “Freedom Tower” and rest assured that I will be there to visit within 365 days of its opening.
The 10th Anniversary feels a lot like the Ninth Anniversary, and I imagine the 11th, 12th and 13th Anniversaries will feel very similar. Every year September 11th is a big deal, and it should be that way.
After all, America (and I) made a promise: “never forget.” Yesterday we kept our word.