"I have tried simply to write the best I can. Sometimes I have good luck and write better than I can." -Ernest Hemingway

“The only living works are those which have drained much of the author's own life into them.” –Samuel Butler

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Musings of the Smart Girl with Pink Hair and High Heels (I Remember)

Here’s how it happened for me:
I was seven years old. Being a good little second grader, I worked on whatever assignment that had been put in front of me. All around me voices droned on as other little second graders talked with their friends. The room was noisy, but not unpleasantly so.
Breaking through the clutter of chatter, a voice spoke through the intercom. It asked for all the staff leaders (or something like that) to meet. My teacher wasn’t included in that exclusive list, but there was a sudden hush that fell on the class like a heavy fog. Intuition told us something was the matter and all the squirmy second graders were getting anxious.
My teacher excused herself, telling us she would be right in the hall. With no supervision, the class drifted back to their normal activities. Their short attention spans wouldn’t allow them to dwell on the developing drama unfolding in another city. I think I went back to work, but I know there was a whisper of worry and wonder in the back of my mind.
Our teacher came back distraught. All the little second graders had to know what upset her. She told us a plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers in New York.
Our little brains couldn’t grasp the gravity of the situation. It was a city away and we couldn’t see it, so we didn’t seem to care. We were slightly fueled by our teacher’s distress, so we couldn’t go back to class as normal, but we weren’t upset.
Later on, almost in a daze, our teacher told us a story about how she had eating her Thanksgiving dinner in the South tower (I think this was after it had gotten hit by the second plane). Her story got me to thinking of how my dad would sometimes go on flights. Irrationally, because of my underdeveloped brain, I started to worry that my dad could have been on one of those planes. How horrible would that have been? (Such a naïve second grader’s thoughts in light of the pain so many more were feeling because they had really just lost a loved one.)
I remember one girl in my class had gotten upset because her dad was actually traveling that day. I think everything turned out fine for her.
When I got home, I heard my mom’s version and I found out there were four planes: Two for the towers, one for the pentagon, and one for the white house (that was luckily thwarted).
That day, eleven years ago, will live on in all of our hearts. We will never be able to understand the twisted minds of those who planned those horrific events, but we won’t forget those we have lost. 

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