Two years ago, 6:25 AM- I am in the car of a neighbor, picking up a friend on the way to school. As this friend climbs into the car, he exclaims, "World War 3 just began!" "What?" We all give him quizzical looks and he explains himself, "A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center."
I didn't believe it. Well, I should be more clear- I didn't understand it. I'd never been on a plane before. I'd never seen, up close, the World Trade Center towers. What did a plane crashing into them mean to me? I had no idea the horror just unleashed on this country. The reality of the situation didn't hit me until I was in my first period English class and I saw the footage. By then the second plane had crashed into the towers. I saw it over and over, the first tower in the foreground with black smoke billowing out and then a plane disappearing into the second tower. For a second it doesn't seem that anything happened. Then fire, huge red and orange flames, large enough, probably, to destroy several blocks here in suburbia, explodes out of the building. Later, I watched people running through the streets with clouds of dust following them. What's going on, I think? Then they show the towers collapsing. These two citadels of modern mankind, two symbols of capitalism and global economy, symbols of freedom, symbols of prosperity, symbols of America, crashing down onto a city that represents America to all the world. A scene that has never before been witnessed in the world. A scene never imagined on American soil.
It couldn't be real, how could someone do this, how could it happen? Why? Many lost their faith in God. Many found their faith in God. Lives were lost, lives were changed. Patriotism abounded. Debate began, war began, politics entered the picture. No collapse of economy followed. It faded. People forgot. Tuesday is just another day now. What did my school do? The choir sang before school started. Many people ignored them. The principal spoke over the intercom during first and played a second-rate country song about the attacks.
The most touching tribute I witnessed was the class I T.A.'d for fifth period. The teacher brought out a poem she wrote on September 11 and read it to us. Then the class wrote in their journals about how their lives have changed since 9\11. Being the T.A., I did the work the teacher had given me at the start of class, I didn't write in a journal. So the question remains, how have I changed in the past two years?
I'm an American. I am part of a family line that has lived here since the 1600's. My ancestors have fought in every American war since the Revolution. I have stories written about the Revolutionary War written by ancestors. I am descended from a Mormon Battalion member. My grandfathers fought in World War II and Korea. Today my cousins fight in Iraq.
The Mormon Battalion member was my age when he left his family on the plains at a time that they greatly needed him. When the Mormons were chased out of thier homes by mobs, their pleas were ignored by the government. An extermination order was signed by the governor of Missouri. When the country which had scorned and rejected them called for their service, however, my people freely gave it. They sent 500 of their strongest men on a march to California at a time when they needed them the most.
So, do I have an obligation to support and serve this country? My ancestors and countless thousands of others gave up the greatest gift they could, their lives, so I could live in the freedom and prosperity I live in today. Should I spurn this this country because it is dedicated to peace and liberty for all? Should I disrespect and defame the president and the laws of the land I live in, despite the blood spilled for it? What greater insult could I pay to those who have fought for Amerca. I support this country with all my heart, might, mind, and strength. If duty called me to it, I would fight for it. I would give up my life for it.
"Greater love hath no man than this: that he lay down his life for his friends."- John 15:13