September 11th, 2011

Yes, I know it's not the 11th anymore. I meant to write this earlier but I've had a headache for most of the day so I'm just now getting around to it.

If you were in America this past week up through Sunday, you've been saturated with 9/11 coverage. Hell, I'd be willing to wager you saw plenty of coverage even if you lived outside the country. A ten year anniversary, for any monumental occasion, is significant and you knew that all the networks would go all out. I DVRed a lot of programs and the memorial service, and have watched a bit, and from what I can tell, it all looked very tastefully done (the services in NYC, the Pentagon & Shanksville, PA), none of it garish or overblown. The two waterfalls where the Towers stood are simple, yet lovely, with all the names engraved. I'm not sure how it will look completely once it's all done, but I think it'll be a peaceful spot in the midst of the hustle and bustle.

If anything, there was too much saturation, too much programming. I think every previous 9/11 program that had ever been done in the past 10 years ("102 Minutes that Changed America", "The Man Who Predicted 9/11", etc.) was shown at one point, plus the new programs that had been done by various networks. All tasteful, with some new stories and information, but maybe just a bit too much. Even for someone like myself (who, on the day it happened came home and recorded the news nonstop, filling up 3 video tapes of coverage over the week) who studies and absorbs historical events as they happen, I had to shut it off a couple of times. I felt drained and considering I was already down, it was sapping my emotions to the point where I felt zombie-like. I had to turn it off.

After a shower, a snack and some aspirin (whenever fall and spring come along, my allergies act up and I get headaches a lot), I started feeling introspective. They say that everyone who was of an age to know and understand what was happening on that day has changed. Certainly, the country itself has changed, but so have it's people. I started pondering what changed in me and my life on that day and afterwards.

The major thing was that my eyes were signficantly opened and more aware of the world at large. Sure, I'd had an interest in history and current events, but 9/11 led me to start learning much, much more. My library increased (although it took a few more years for my interest in American history to kick start), but most importantly I took an active interest in politics. Being that I was still fresh out of school and my parents (specifically my mom) were Republicans, my path led me into Conservative Republicanism. I saw Democrats and Liberals as weak people, I read and owned all of Ann Coulters books, most of the coverage that I recorded was Fox News, and I listened to Rush Limbaugh whenever I could. In 2004, I campaigned for President Bush and a local Congresswoman, Anne Northup. When our troops went into Afghanistan, I watched the coverage avidly and when Bush said there were WMDs in Iraq, I believed him and supported the war.

I always had to be plugged into the news. At work I would have the radio on, at home even if I was in another room, there was always a tv on with one of the 24 hour news channels on. I was, and still am, a news junkie. I want to know. This curiousity, this need to know, was always a characteristic of mine, but if anything it increased after 9/11. Heck, half of the Twitter accounts I follow are news, American and world-wide.

I'm happy to say that in 2005 and after, my political views changed to become more Progressive/Democratic. Now, I'm sorta ashamed for how gung-ho I was and trusting, but you live and learn from your past. What matters is that I became more involved and aware of the world beyond my little circle. That can only be a good thing.

The other major thing I learned from 9/11, the other major way it changed me, was to realise just how suddenly your life can end. The people on the planes, they were going about their business. Whether for business or pleasure, they innocently got on a plane, like hundreds of thousands of people do everyday in every country, never suspecting what was going to happen. The people at the Trade Center and the Pentagon did what they always did - they went to work. It was just another Tuesday for these folks. They never realised that for some of them, their lives would come to an end.

That's a damn sobering thing to dwell on. Its actually bringing tears to my eyes to type this as I think about what they must have thought and felt before the end came. The main thing is they were living their lives; it was just another day for them. They had no idea they would be a part of history. They had no idea they would never see their loved ones again. Some managed a last call, to get a last message out, but many didn't.

It makes you realise how fragile life is, and how uncertain it can be. That's a powerful realisation. And it can apply everywhere, everyday. None of us are promised tomorrow. There's always the possibility that you may not wake up tomorrow; that the car you're driving or riding in may crash; that the bank you're making a stop at might be robbed and shot up. These scenarios happen every day - this sounds really fatalistic, but 9/11 drove home the fact that each minute or day may be our last.

It was after 9/11 that I started telling my family that I loved them whenever I hung up the phone or left the house. It's such a simple thing, yet before that day I didn't think anything of ending the conversation with a simple "Bye". But that changed - my mom, my dad, my sister, my grandmother, I started telling them, "I love you" before ending any conversation on the phone or leaving the house, whether it be to go to work or just up the street. It didn't matter. Now it's become routine, but that doesn't mean I don't mean it. I still mean it.

Everytime I tell someone I love them, I mean it with all my heart and soul. Because I realise I may not get the chance to tell them later. Even if I'm not in a good mood, or I'm upset with the person, I still say it. I've been mad at mom before I've left for work, yet I've still looked at her and said, "I love you." Because I mean it. Moods are temporary. Tempers flare, but love is a constant, steady, enduring thing to me. It runs deeper than any temporary roadbump. And usually by the time I'm at work and I'm calmer, I wind up calling mom and apologising for my part in the argument.

My love runs deeper than any argument, any mood shift, any flareup.

That is one thing I wish everyone would learn, from 9/11, or anything - don't waste a moment. If you love someone, tell them! If you're sorry, apologise! Dying with regrets is a horrible thing, and I'm sure many of the folks that died in that day died with regrets in their hearts. 9/11 taught me how precious life is and a few months later, my family learned the same lesson in a hard way.

In late March 2002, my mom's mom (we called her Nannie) who lived with us (and had called us with regular updates on 9/11 since we weren't by a tv), had a seizure. The doctors ran tests and discovered she had a brain tumour from cancer that had gotten there via her lymphnodes and had originated in her lungs. They said that she could have as much as 6 months but that wasn't likely at all.

She died on May 3rd, in the very room I'm sitting in. 5 - 6 weeks. Those were the hardest weeks, on all of us, but mostly on mom. She insisted on caring for her. The Hosparus people came in for the last few weeks, God bless them, but mom did the bulk of the work. She stopped talking on Wednesday - her last words were to me. She wanted me to stay home and read to her, but I had to go to work. She died on Friday, struggling for breath - in '96, she had had heart surgery, quadruple bypass. In the end, her heart was the only thing that kept her alive, even after everything had shut down. She was gasping for breath, even after we had all told her it was okay to go. I remember I was in my room, and I thought I would go in and read to her when I heard my mom go into Nannie's room and I heard her gasp.

It was too late. I'm crying typing this, it's still very raw to talk about. But I have a few regrets with Nannie, mostly the fact I didn't spend enough time with her. I read to her once, maybe twice, but it was so hard to deal with, I didn't do it nearly enough.

Maybe I sound like a hypocrite, saying to not have any regrets while I have a few, but I learned the hard way with Nannie, and again with Andrew. On 9/11, when I got home from work, Nannie was there to greet me. The first thing I did when I walked in the door was hug her and tell her I loved her. I am glad I did - I didn't know we would lose her 8 months later. But at least I told her. Everyday. Right up to the end.

Those are the two major ways September 11th, 2001 changed me. I could write more about that day and all the heroes, but I feel drained again. My face is streaked with tears because I haven't talked about Nannie in a long time and I hadn't thought about her death in a while. Not deeply, and not with that connection she had to 9/11. I'll carry my regrets with me for the rest of my life - but I'm doing my best to take the lessons I've learned from 9/11, her death and Andrew's death and apply them. Sometimes I fail, but I'm learning.

That's what life is. As long as you live, you learn. You hope, you love, you dream. You live.

Where were you on that day? What have you learned from it? I'd like to know if you are willing to share.