Six years ago when two planes crashed into the World Trade Center in NYC, and then into the Pentagon and a field in Pennsylvania, I was shocked.
I remember blow drying my hair upstairs when it happened. My mom had turned on the TV to watch the news and we found out what had been happening for the past forty-five minutes back East.
I remember sitting down at the top of the stairs, brush in hand, in disbelief. There I hovered, hoping and waiting for it to not be as bad as it looked. I don’t know why I stayed up there on those hard wooden steps looking through the banister to the TV screen below, when I could have gone down and sat comfortably on the couch, but there I stayed for the next couple of hours riveted to all that was happening.
I remember feeling sick inside, my face echoing the horror I saw etched on the faces shown as the towers began to fall. You see, I knew that surely everyone would make it out of the towers okay. That there would be a happy ending. And as rescuers dug through the rubble, I thought surely they would find survivors.
My sister, The Expat, told me once of that day in Washington DC. She worked in the International Trade Center in the District, and she told me stories of the evacuation. Of women running in their stockinged feet, leaving high heeled shoes behind. Of the confusion, and panic that she and her then fiancée experienced while trying to find each other in the crowds. And lastly of their long trek home, on foot, crossing over the Potomac.
But mostly what I remember from that day, beyond the horror and dismay, is the outpouring of service. Of the New Yorkers reaching out and giving aid to strangers they’d never met; the long lines of people waiting to donate blood for survivors that would never be found; the many acts of kindness to neighbors; volunteers and professionals rushing into the fray to save someone else.
It was beautiful to watch as kindness and gentleness spread across the nation as we all for a few short months were kinder to each other.
And that dear readers, is what I’d like you to remember today. Not the horror and anger. Yes, there is a place for the anger, but it doesn’t do much except eat at you from within. Instead, I urge you to reach out to others in need and do a good deed. To honor and remember those admirable and brave people that lost their lives on 9/11/01 in service.
Here's a quote from an article in Yahoo! news about an organization called myGoodDeed.org.
“The heroic acts of all those killed trying to save others that September morning has spawned a growing grass-roots movement. The goal is to ensure that future generations remember not just the horror of the attacks, but also the extraordinary outpouring of humanity during the days, weeks, and months that followed.”I urge you to remember and honor those who died that day, by reaching out and doing a good deed.
To learn more about or participate in my Good Deed, click here.
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