Darkest moment in nation's history holds stories of inspiration, courage
Like most people my age who grew up in or around New York — in my case, northern New Jersey — I try to not think about Sept. 11 much. It was the worst day of my life. It was the worst day of all of our lives.
But when I do think back to that day, I do my best to reflect on its hope and light rather than its tremendous horrors.
I don't dwell on being at the doctor's office a few weeks after the attacks and seeing a severely burned woman walk in the lobby and be unable to sit down, forced to stand against the wall in quiet agony. Instead, I think about the heroic actions of Father Mychal Judge, the New York City Fire Department chaplain who rushed to the World Trade Center when it was first hit. Father Judge prayed, comforted and offered aid to many until being killed by falling debris when the South Tower collapsed. He is considered the first official victim of 9/11. In death, his legacy of compassion and love, one so many in the city had been touched by, became known to the world.
I avoid recalling how I went to bed that night, fearful our neighborhood would be coated in ash and soot floating through the air from ground zero. Instead, I think back to the amazing stories that passed through the community, from friends and family in the days after — like that of my uncle's friend. Working in the World Trade Center during the first terrorist attack on the buildings in 1993, he bought a high-powered flashlight to be used in any future emergency. He no longer worked at the WTC by Sept. 11, but his flashlight was still in the office. It helped his former co-workers navigate the dark stairwell and escape safely.
I avoid reliving the walk into the kitchen that afternoon after school and seeing the tower collapse for the first time. I'd rather remember the joy of when a handful of survivors were rescued from the wreckage a day or so later, giving the region what it needed most: good news. Or the magical moment when Mike Piazza's eighth-inning home run cleared the fence at Shea Stadium in the first sporting event the city had hosted since the attacks, giving us all something to be excited about again.
I was in New York this summer. I took the train into Penn Station. I walked along Broadway. I rode the subway. I sat in Yankee Stadium. I visited the Museum of Modern Art.
And not for one moment did I ever feel unsafe or fearful for my own safety. A decade ago, we likely never would have thought that possible. But it is, because the city, and the entire nation, picked itself up, dusted itself off and kept going.
There is a reason Paul Simon so famously sang "The Boxer" to begin the first episode of "Saturday Night Live" after 9/11. It is because, as the song goes, even though the reminders of every glove that laid us down and every cut that made us cry out was there, the fighter still remained, and has ever since.
Remember what happened a decade ago on Sunday. Remember all that was lost that day, all that was broken. But also remember what came in its midst, what extraordinary things ordinary people did.