As is so often the case with momentous occasions, distance from them diminishes not their importance, but their impact on our emotions. It is as if the farther one is away from such an event, the denser the film between it and their eyes. Physical and temporal distance seem to drape an ever thicker veil over the mind's comprehension. Like a television flattening out the world for all to watch, separation flattens these events onto another plane of existence.
For the majority of the world, such were the events of 9/11/01. Terrific, yet far away. Important, yet not real. Relevant, yet incomprehensible. A hundred million dualities were created that day; the working memories seared into minds not able to grasp their magnitude. Apocalypse.
Despite the seeming incomprehensibility, the import of the situation had its day. There is not a soul who doesn't remember the moment they heard the news. I know where I was, what class I was in, what row and what seat.
High school.
Grade nine math.
Second row.
Middle seat.
The principal entered, and with a tone that much more deliberate, that much more sombre, he broke the news. To a handful of fourteen-year-olds, it was a tragic action movie, playing back as slowly as the principal spoke it. Had he left right then and there, we as a class might have turned back to the board half expecting to get on with polynomials. But that split second pause, that moment where he seemed to make eye contact with everyone at once, gave his words the gravitas to make us waver. The silent concussion of comprehension emanating from the teacher hit us with terrible force. I remember, as a group, looking outside half expecting to see an airplane headed straight for our insignificant building. I remember expecting dozens of phone calls calling children home to safety. I remember thinking, maybe school will be cancelled. I remember wondering if this was some twisted version of war. There was an action movie happening just next door, but the actors were real, and there were no second takes.
Within six hours, there wasn't a soul who didn't watch the twin towers crumble to the ground like a house of cards. There wasn't a person alive who didn't watch endless replays of billowing dust, explosions, and seemingly toy-like planes flying into miniature TV buildings. There also wasn't a soul left who wasn't confronted with blood and tears and an estimated death toll that just didn't seem to slow down.
What is one to do at a time like this? Too late to do anything really, and too soon to want to do anything. There was really only one option: keep one eye on the TV screen, and one eye on the rest of your life. Watch the victims and the families of victims grasp the moment while also watching the timer on the oven. Do nothing but stare at the carnage, and do your homework.
Ask yourself how while also asking why.
With a sickening lack of emotion, life moved inexorably on. No matter how hard one dug their heels in, they got dragged through the mud. With a certainty devoid of affect, days went by. One was left to wonder what the point was. What's your roll if you have no roll, no import, no impact? If people die, and life doesn't care, then who cares?
The answer is simple. We care.
Whether one minute removed from the crushing weight of a building collapse, or a thousand miles removed from Ground Zero, the single duty of every human being is to care. And to care one must remember. That is it.
3,051 children lost a parent.
2,977 lives were taken.
1,609 lost a husband or wife.
623 police and firemen did not go home.
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