As September 11 approaches and you reflect on how it has been ten years since that tragedy occurred, are you also reflecting on what you were doing? Where you were? What you were feeling? Where you might have been if fate didn’t intervein? Do the memories come flooding back? They do for this writer. It is amazing and sad all at the same time to see where this country was to where it is now. That day brought a nation together, brought people together.
The day, for this writer, started out normal with putting the youngest child onto the bus only to walk back into the house to see the chaos that was happening on the television. Could it really be? Was what was on the television really happening? No thought of terrorism came to mind at first. Just the thought that a plane had lost its way and hit the tower. But when the second tower was hit disbelieve reared its ugly head. Could this really be terrorism? Then the second question, who and why? What had we done that was so bad that the enemy felt the need to do this to us? Then being a former fire fighter the urge to go down and help creeped in but people were being advised not to go down to NYC. The feeling of helplessness was not a pleasant feeling. What could be done? The television was on the tragedy for the rest of the day. As the events unfolded the every day activies had to continue. However, at one point a poem had been written. Was it to make one feel better, was it so it was never forgotten or both.
Later in the evening, rehearsal for Me and My Girl, which was being done by Salt City Center for the Performing Arts, was still going to continue. The cast arrived and rehearsal began. The atmosphere felt heavy and sad. They were lost even though they had rehearsed the show over and over and knew it almost by heart. The events of the day had left them feeling, well, helpless. Until they could find a way to release this feeling rehearsal would not be a productive one. At one point, someone asked the director if they could go out onto the steps of the old Jewish Temple where the shows were performed and take a moment of silence for those lives that were lost. The director agreed and so the cast emerged onto those steps some sitting, some standing and most crying. A moment of silence. Someone began to sing a song, not sure what the song was now but it was beautiful at the time. Then the poem was read, not particularly good but it was filled with feeling and emotion. Afterwards, the cast went back inside and rehearsal was the best it had been. Maybe they were doing it in honor of those who were no longer with us or maybe they just felt like they had done something at least and those feelings of helpleness had disappeared? Whatever their reasons were they performed well that evening.
This was this writer’s day and how it is reflected today. What are your memories, for this writer would like to hear them.