At 10:46 PM on Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I was dragging myself up the stairs after an evening "showing the plan" to some unlucky soul (I was an Amway distributor at that time, in addition to being a missionary teacher on the island of Saipan. Long story). Memory is a funny thing, because the way I remember it, is that I was headed up to the master bedroom in the three bedroom duplex that housed the school principal. But this could not have been true because Barbara was not the principal of the school at that time, and we didn't even move into that apartment until the start of the 2002-2003 school year. No, our principal at the time, Evan Hendrix and his family lived in that apartment, and I was headed up to the loft bedroom in our little studio across the compound. And my memory of when I found out is definitely in that little apartment.
If I had been the type to turn on the TV and catch the eleven o clock news and Jay Leno, I might have known then (though perhaps not, because all the networks in Saipan were a week behind. My understanding is we got the tapes from a local affiliates in the San Francisco Bay area. I would have to have been watching CNN, which was live). As it was, I dropped into bed blissfully unaware of the horrific events unfolding on the U.S. Mainland half a world away.
So where I was, when I found out about eight hours later, was in our kitchen Wednesday morning, September 12, 2001. We were getting ready for school when one of our students' parents, Susan Schwarz called. "Turn on the TV," she cried. "America is under attack!" Those words seemed insane. "America under attack"? What did that even mean? Who would be attacking us? What would such an attack on us--the mightiest nation under the sun--even look like? We turned on the TV as instructed and quickly found out.
By this time, the Pentagon had been struck, the heroes of Flight 93 had thwarted the terrorists plans and their plane had crashed into the ground near Shanksville, Pennsylvania, the twin towers of the World Trade Center had come down--all of the major events had happened hours ago and the images were playing on grim repeat on CNN: The smoking towers, the silhouette of second plane streaking towards oblivion, the horrible collapse of first the North Tower and then the South. Seeing the images of America under attack made no more sense than hearing the words. It was madness.
We went ahead to school, but didn't stay long. The principal (I remember it was Barbara, but again it was not--she wouldn't take that role for another few months) let out school by noon. It's not because we were in any danger. Indeed, our little corner of U.S. soil tucked away in the midst of the Pacific Ocean was probably the safest place in America to be. No terrorist would have considered an attack on the virtually unknown Commonwealth of the Northern Marianas Islands a way to bring America to it's knees. No, it was just because we were all shell shocked--teachers and students alike. We needed to process, time to make sense of the senseless.
Ironically, though we were infinitely safer where we were, I longed to be back on the Mainland that day. It was one of the very few times during our eleven years in Saipan that I longed to go "home." I felt a need to be with my people, to mourn with them, to stand shoulder to shoulder with them. I never felt more American than I did on September 12.
Here's what I wrote in my journal that Wednesday:
"I'm not really sure what to say or how to begin. We found out around seven o'clock this morning that about eight hours earlier the United States was attacked by terrorists. It's a disaster unparalleled in our country's history. Terrorists commandeered four jetliners filled with passengers and forced them to crash. Two into the the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, one into the Pentagon in Washington D.C. and another somewhere in Pennsylvania. So horrible were the crashes that we have no idea how many have died or been injured and won't know for awhile.
It just seems so unreal, so impossible. It seems more like a movie, but it is real. I just can't believe it and I know that things will never be the same."
And so it was. Some things have never been the same. So much changed with 9/11. The lives of the families and loved ones of those who were stolen away that day were forever changed. Even now, twenty years later, the grief surely remains and is especially painful today. But even for the rest of us, the way we travel, the way we live, what we fear has changed. Two wars were launched to right the terrorists wrongs and thousands more gave their lives in those conflicts. Whole new divisions of the government were created to ensure such an attack could never take place again.
But it's important to note that not everything changed. The terrorists hope of bringing our nation to its knees was a colossal failure. We went down hard, like Billy the Kid, as Tom Petty sang. But we got up again. We took the hit, but paid the ultimate tribute to those that lost their lives and those that gave their lives to save others. On their behalf, we kept living, kept loving, kept thriving. What the terrorists didn't understand about our national character is this exactly the kind of crisis our nation was built to meet. We are willing to throw ourselves into clear and present danger, to risk our own lives to go into the fire, to wrestle a madman away from the controls of an airplane. We are ready to come to the aid of those coming out of the smoking haze of collapsed buildings. And when all that is done, we are really good at rebuilding, and continuing on with our beloved way of life. That is what we do. If jihadists goal was to throw our nation into existential crisis and eventual decline, the September 11 attacks were exactly the wrong way to do it.
Today, we pause to remember. I hope that while we remember the evil atrocity committed on September 11, we will also remember that incredible good that so many displayed that day as well. I hope that we will remember that we still have the capacity to come together, shoulder to shoulder, and do what has to be done.
Well the sky was falling and streaked with blood
I heard you calling me, then you disappeared into the dust
Up the stairs, into the fire
Yeah up the stairs, into the fire
I need your kiss, but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love bring us love
You gave your love to see, in fields of red and autumn brown
You gave your love to me and lay your young body down
Up the stairs, into the fire
Yeah up the stairs, into the fire
I need you near, but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love bring us love
It was dark, too dark to see, you held me in the light you gave
You lay your hand on me, walked into the darkness of your smoky grave
Up the stairs, into the fire
Yeah up the stairs, into the fire
I need your kiss, love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love bring us love
May your love bring us love
--Bruce Springsteen, "Into the Fire"
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