Today a day of memories, reflections of the past, unless we have learned from our mistakes, one question remains; will history repeat itself? We watch, listen and perhaps wonder. No longer living near the epicenter of this remembered tragedy, I wondered: would people understand, would they feel the same emotions as those who had once witnessed the grandeur that had so suddenly been destroyed; did they know anyone who had witnessed this horrific event? Questions unanswered, people asked, "did you ever see the Towers before 9/11?" "Yes, of course, the Towers stood high above the city skyline." With that, memories began to surface, our brood all accounted for, I thanked my Maker, I new no one that was lost that day, yet for the people that filled the little restaurant on West Main St., that moment seemed to be frozen in time.
As we turned on the old TV, eyes became fixated on the screen, the first Tower, smoke pouring from all sides, debris and my God, people screaming and free falling from the Tower, news cameras capturing each morbidly disturbing moment. Then as if a giant predator were invading from the heavens, that second plane hit. We watched, no words spoken, only gasps, from the growing group of patrons. As the door opened, many more filed in, looking for friends. I wondered as I gazed upon their faces, what was possibly passing through each mind.
Today as we look back, I close my eyes and still see those faces, eyes upturned, locked on the TV screen, but it is the dazed and utterly confused looks, I remember most. There was no usual banter between our patrons that fateful morning, no laughter, no greetings or playful jabs. Just silence, frightening uncertain silence. Wanting to hear noise, I walked from the little restaurant. Upon reaching the sunlight, I began inhaling large amounts of fresh air, "Please dear God, make it go away." The fresh air exhilarating, but the usual sounds of traffic passing, voices and laughter from people walking by, strangely missing. Even the usual soothing sound of the cold fresh and vibrant waters of Beaver Brook, tumbling over the stones, worn smooth from years of cleansing, seemed as though it had disappeared, stopped and confused much like the people, now standing alone, yet altogether, inside my little restaurant. Today, it is the faces my mind has pulled deep from within.
Remembrance is everything. For those to young to remember it will be their thirst for knowledge that may stop the world's craziness, laying to rest mankind's need to self destruct. The answer is always, how? Hopefully through open-minded education, not just "what they want us to hear." Opinions, truths and myths will always bombard our inner most psyche, but it is the opened mind, in search for answers, that needs to prevail.
Yesterday, in passing conversation, a young woman, intent on teaching her young family what is so right with our world and how we must protect it, shared a conversation she had with her five-year old son, who has just begun school. "Joey you weren't even born ten years ago, you have no idea what happened on September 11th!" "Do so Mommy, so sad and very bad, alot of people we don't even know, died that day!"
The sounds of nature still heard, the hustle and bustle of everyday life returned. Through tears of horror and disbelief, our world continues. If my little friend Joey has anything to say about it, this piece of history will not repeat itself.
As we turned on the old TV, eyes became fixated on the screen, the first Tower, smoke pouring from all sides, debris and my God, people screaming and free falling from the Tower, news cameras capturing each morbidly disturbing moment. Then as if a giant predator were invading from the heavens, that second plane hit. We watched, no words spoken, only gasps, from the growing group of patrons. As the door opened, many more filed in, looking for friends. I wondered as I gazed upon their faces, what was possibly passing through each mind.
Today as we look back, I close my eyes and still see those faces, eyes upturned, locked on the TV screen, but it is the dazed and utterly confused looks, I remember most. There was no usual banter between our patrons that fateful morning, no laughter, no greetings or playful jabs. Just silence, frightening uncertain silence. Wanting to hear noise, I walked from the little restaurant. Upon reaching the sunlight, I began inhaling large amounts of fresh air, "Please dear God, make it go away." The fresh air exhilarating, but the usual sounds of traffic passing, voices and laughter from people walking by, strangely missing. Even the usual soothing sound of the cold fresh and vibrant waters of Beaver Brook, tumbling over the stones, worn smooth from years of cleansing, seemed as though it had disappeared, stopped and confused much like the people, now standing alone, yet altogether, inside my little restaurant. Today, it is the faces my mind has pulled deep from within.
Remembrance is everything. For those to young to remember it will be their thirst for knowledge that may stop the world's craziness, laying to rest mankind's need to self destruct. The answer is always, how? Hopefully through open-minded education, not just "what they want us to hear." Opinions, truths and myths will always bombard our inner most psyche, but it is the opened mind, in search for answers, that needs to prevail.
Yesterday, in passing conversation, a young woman, intent on teaching her young family what is so right with our world and how we must protect it, shared a conversation she had with her five-year old son, who has just begun school. "Joey you weren't even born ten years ago, you have no idea what happened on September 11th!" "Do so Mommy, so sad and very bad, alot of people we don't even know, died that day!"
The sounds of nature still heard, the hustle and bustle of everyday life returned. Through tears of horror and disbelief, our world continues. If my little friend Joey has anything to say about it, this piece of history will not repeat itself.
Nor will Joey let us forget.
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