From Tragedy Came Inspiration
Daniel L. Bamberg
columnist
There was something strange about that day from the beginning, as I recall. Until the events, which would shake the very foundations of our country, occurred I wasn’t sure what it was. Call it intuition, some sort of psychic sensitivity, or what have you. Something was peculiar.
Portable radios, which were placed in various locations around the custom woodwork shop I worked in, were going through a normal music cycle or belting out one of the many annoying morning shows. Suddenly, the news came in and everything stopped for a moment. A small commuter plane had hit the World Trade Center. Unusual and tragic, yes, but seemingly this was an accident. It wasn’t enough for us to stop any routines. Then everything did stop at not for a moment, but for the rest of the day. I saw the hearts of grown men sink before my eyes. These men who were usually diligent workers and could simultaneously do their job while busying their minds with the next practical joke they would play, were suddenly struck. So was I. A second plane had hit. This wasn’t an accident. These weren’t commuter planes.
All I could do was listen to the radio. I clearly remember one guy who worked at a table beside me throw his hands up in the air shouting “What the hell is going on?.” He’d never admit it, but his comment was the only reaction I believe he was capable of showing without revealing an underlined fear and perhaps panic. Looking back, I think the entire shop was in shock. I halfway expected there to be a PA announcement ordering us to all get back to work. The office however had emptied onto the production floor. Everybody was standing around a radio, listening to the events unfold. Someone brought a portable television into the break area. It wasn’t long after all of this that a gut sinking feeling swept over me the likes I hope to never experience again.
When I heard one radio disc jockey tell a caller “Sir, please repeat to the audience what you’ve just told me,” I was immediately certain this would be the worst news yet. The caller then said, “I live in an apartment building with a view of the Pentagon. A plane has just struck the pentagon. We are at war.” The co-host of the radio broadcast then said simple, but profound words which seemed to be scripted right out of Hollywood. “Oh my God!” Dead air followed for what seemed like an eternity.
My father spent the majority of his Naval career in the Virginia / D.C. area. This was not only an attack in my country, but near places where I had childhood memories and close to one of my childhood homes. The pentagon is a beacon of America’s defense. If someone could attack there, where would they attack next? If the government didn’t stop that plane, how were we going to stop any others? It was too strange to believe. It felt like a movie. When the towers fell I didn’t know when the nightmare would end. I thought, like everyone else did at that moment, about everyone I cared about. I wasn’t brought to tears, however until I saw the news of people looking for lost loved ones the following day.
Some say they played images of 9/11 far too much. I personally don’t know if I have seen them enough to not feel some form of the original emotions even to this day. What I remember about the events more than anything was the positive, which came from the negative. I heard more people say “I love you” or “be careful” to friends and family in the week that followed than I ever had in my life. There wasn’t a racial tension anywhere that I could see. For the first time in my life, and the only time since, we were all Americans. Black, White, Hispanic, Asian, Native, all of us in this country were American. There was a pure sense of unity. It however went nearly as soon as it came. Within 3 years politicians would begin talking about a divided America. The self-proclaimed intellectual elite would begin declaring 9/11 unities as “false patriotism”, comparing it to “mass hysteria.” Suddenly ideological snobs had a forum to stand against a positive change.
Why did it bother individuals, that for a moment we were all one? Why did the psychological truths behind our unity matter? We were united, and that was all that needed matter. Intellectuals have called the image of our “united” Congress singing “God Bless America” on the steps of our nation’s Capital that day a “false publicity stunt.” I don’t care if it was false or not. I am an advocate for truth, but sometimes we just need inspiration. 9/11 was a tragic unforgettable day for the United States of America. The immediate days that followed were the strongest days in our nation’s history. The days, which followed our so-called wake from “mass hysteria”, however have been shameful. With each passing day of pathetic division we mock the phoenix of humanity, which rose from the ashes of our most trying moment as a nation. Each year since on 9/11, I look for that inspiration again. If only for ten minutes I need to hear the story of our county united. The images of planes hitting towers and New Yorkers running from debris are important. What I want to see however are the images, which show for a brief moment in time we were all Americans. I think the children who were too small to experience it need to see that more than anything.
We Americans are a spoiled bunch. We have luxuries many other countries do not have. We find tragedy and drama in reality television. We feel aggravation in dial up Internet and microwave dinners that remain cold in the center. We argue passionately about petty ridiculous things. Our eyes sit focused narrowly on the national debt, the racial divide, and who is cheating whom. The moment the reality of true tragedy hit us, however we stood as emblematic unity in spite of our melting pot divisions. From our greatest tragedy came our greatest inspiration. Everybody has an opinion, but everybody needs more reasons to shed tears, to feel bonds of love and be moved beyond measure.
Dedicated to those who lost their lives during the tragic events on September 11, 2001 and the families they left behind. Dedicated to the heros who rose on that day and everyday after and the families of those who continue to sacrifice for our freedoms.
