#On911

#On911 I was 13 and confused. Our teachers were told to turn off their televisions, keep us away from the computers and go about the day as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. Something big. Something called a terrorist attack.

I didn't know what that meant. To me monsters and bad guys wore capes and battled Spiderman and Batman. They weren't REAL people. They were cartoons, movie characters, and fictional reads. Maybe I was naive, or maybe it was the first time I realized that the Joker could actually exist, that the Green Goblin was out there--that it didn't take super powers, that it just took a dark heart.

Today marks the 10th anniversary of the attacks on our country. That means today marks the day when my blog matches nearly every other Americans blog in telling the story of 9/11, in unmasking the villain of Osama Bin Laden, in laying out feelings and memories of that day.

It's exactly ten years later and I don't understand it much more than I did when I was 13. To me, it's still a graphic novel: Good vs evil, evil hurts good, good seeks revenge, good kills evil, evil somehow still exists.

What I do know, believe, and understand is that the lives of too many were lost that day--too many people just going to work, too many who had just said goodbye to their husbands and wives and kissed their kids on the forehead, too many who were just making a subway transfer, too many who were just sticking to routine--too many who had just boarded a plane for a get-a-way, too many who were silent heros, too many who were innocent. #TooMany.

Today we remember those people. We remember the tragedy. And we remember our pride. May those memories and this feeling of pride continue on September 12, on September 13, and every day there after. Togetherness is something I do understand.

The 3 Things I Learned in 26 Flights of Stairs...Aside from knowing never to wear heels when you work on the 26th floor...

As the 26^th floor of the New York City Municipal Building (see tower of building pictured) began to shake earlier today, I turned to my co-worker who was already swiveling her chair around to look at me. Moments later, a third co-worker came to the doorway and said “I am getting out.” Not before long, our entire floor and the two floors of our company stationed above us were racing down 26 flights of stairs (some 28) to reach safety down below.

“What was going on? Why were we shaking? Why were people going so slowly to get to the bottom?” My cameramen were yelling at those who were taking their time on their stairs, and some of my female counterparts were kicking off their shoes to go faster. “Not too much further” I whispered to one of my friends and mentors, “We got this.”

In three weeks, the tenth anniversary of 9/11 will be upon us. While I may have just been thirteen years old at the time of the attack, sitting in a middle school code of conduct assembly in Pennsylvania—many of the people beside me, ahead of me, and behind me were New Yorkers at the time of the attack. Many of these people had an itch of terror scratching their backs as their right foot landed and then their left on the steps below.

Again questions knotted themselves together like loose cords thrown into a bag. “What news would we learn at the bottom?” “Was everyone with us?” “What was happening?”

It wasn’t until 26 floors later that I received a text from my best friend, in Pennsylvania, asking me if I had felt the earthquake that she had just heard from a police officer had rumbled through New York City.

I turned back and looked at the building which I felt as though I had conquered and breathed deeply, my adrenaline still driving hard through my veins. I thought to myself, “I felt it…I felt all of it—the shake, the terror, the adrenaline…I felt all of it.”

The whole experience reminded me of TED video entitled “The 3 Things I learned while my plane crashed.” During this intense and vivid talk, Ric Elias discusses everything that crossed his mind while the plane he was on crash landed safely into the Hudson just a few years ago.

His three lessons?

1. Everything changes in an instant—our bucket list—the things we want to do in life—we should no longer postpone any of it.

2. Regret existed in his life.

3. That dying is not scary—that he just wanted the chance to see his family again—to see his kids grow up—to be a good father.

And I get it. Before today, I had never experienced, head-on, a terr-or-ific occurrence. I didn’t inhale the smoke from the Twin Towers, I didn’t feel the wind, rain or devastation from Hurricane Katrina.

And while a 5.8 magnitude earthquake, that caused little or no damage to the city, compares very little to the tragic aftermaths of either of these happenings, I did learn some of my own important lessons.

1. I learned that it’s important to experience fear—that it’s important to know how you will handle yourself in the moments that will test you and your strength—the moments that will ask you to be a teammate—the moments that will challenge you and teach you—the moments that will define you. Today, I learned that what was important to me wasn’t just myself, but those people who have been around me for the last year and a half—who have pushed me to be the best I can be at work and that have taught me how to exceed in this working world. Like high school field hockey, I cheered on my teammates to safety and quickly make it to the bottom. From my head-on-encounter with fear, I learned that I don’t panic and that I can lead.

2. I learned that material things don’t matter—and that when a unforeseeable accident is lurking, it’s better to just go, get to safety, and concern yourself with missing items later—that the wallet with your ID, the credit cards, and the social security card mean nothing if you aren’t there to claim them—that if there is less than 10 minutes to leave a space that could fall to the ground, then you better leave the rest behind so you don’t get left behind too.

3. And finally, I reaffirmed exactly what was most important to me. Twenty minutes before the floor began to shake, I emailed my mother who I hadn’t heard from in several days and asked if everything was okay? It is odd to go half a day without an email, let alone three. As I reached the 13^th floor of the building, my body felt as if it had just received a direct IV of adrenaline and my family’s picture flashed into my foresight. Now, the bottom of the building didn’t look like the plaza I normally come up off the subway into each day. No, it instead resembled my home, in Pennsylvania, which I remembered vaguely shaking during a terrible storm when I was younger. During that storm, my mother, my brother, and I sat and watched as things fell from shelves, but after a moment, the shaking was over. Now, I hoped that when my right foot hit the last step, the shaking would be over—the storm would be passed—and that I could call my family to let them know that I was okay—that it was just a building malfunction, that the construction work on the 25^th floor caused something awful to happen on mine—that 9/11 hadn’t just happened all over again. As I neared the bottom, it was less important what was happening—than who I may not get to talk to after it all happened.

Sunlight began shining through the doors as we passed under exit signs to the outside world. It had felt like we traveled through a warp hole, as people were leisurely sitting and speaking to one another outside. “Did we just all imagine the building shaking?”

I was thankful to see a calmness in the world. It was an instant relief that nothing serious was happening—that my race down 26 flights of stairs wasn’t one that was with a collapsing building—that there was no attack—and that what we had experienced was a minimal natural disaster.

I reached for my cell phone, which I had fortunately kept in my pocket for the majority of the day. I quickly learned that cell phone calling service was down, texting worked, and that email was functioning.

Rushing across traffic, still a bit nervous that the tower of our building may collapse due to some sort of after shock, I emailed my family, counted my lucky stars, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did you feel the earthquake,” my best friend texted me.

I sure did.

While we continue to praise our present condition, we must not forget to protect our future

Nearly ten years ago, there was a teenage girl, sitting in an 8th grade history classroom, who was denied the right, with the rest of her fellow classmates to watch history unfold in the United States--to see the news that surrounded the 9/11 attacks. Nearly ten years ago, there was a teenage girl who questioned how anyone could purposely attack another country, how anyone could take the time to plot an attack on thousands of innocent people. Nearly ten years ago, there was a teenage girl who heard Osama Bin Laden's name for the first time.

"They think it was the terrorist Osama Bin Laden," my friend's mom said to me as we sat around a kitchen counter. Our field hockey practice was cancelled that day, but none of us had a true understanding of why. By 10:00 our teachers had been asked to turn off the televisions in all of the middle school classrooms and to keep their students off of computers. I was 13 years old when the twin towers came down, and by the time I actually knew the full extent of what had really happened, I was 5 hours older.

(This of course doesn't mean I understood it--I still don't to this day).

Each September 11, I am reminded of these memories. Each time I walk past a sign that says World Trade Center, I am reminded of these memories. And each time I look out the window at my office building and see the day-by-day progress of the new World Trade Center going up, I am reminded of these memories. Last night, at 11:00, these memories were again brought to the forefront of my mind as I turned on the television, following a text message that told me Obama was just about to announce that Bin Laden had been killed. This time, instead of sadness assisting my memories, my memories were paired with questions: "Where did they find him?" "How did they do it?" "Were any Americans harmed?" "What's next?"

Watching people gather outside the White House and seeing newscasts of the area outside the World Trade Center, I was instantly filled with chills--my skin covered in goosebumps. "This is a moment we will never forget," I said out loud and to myself.

And now it's time to move on--and remember that despite our victory, last night, despite our old memories now being kindled by newer, better memories, that now what we do to protect our country--will be even greater, that despite reaching a stepping stone--there will be many other obstacles to face, and that we will need to continue standing together, as we embrace what we hope to be a safer-and-better world.

While we continue to praise our present condition--we must not forget to protect our future.

Those who died on September 11, 2001, in the buildings, in the Pentagon, and on the planes- those who died due to injuries, cancer, or other life threatening ailments--and those who died fighting for our country because of the attacks will always be remembered: Their lives, their stories, and their families will always be with us.