Remembering

I'm not going into where I was 10 years ago today. Anyone who was over the age of 7 remembers where they were. What they were doing. It is not a day anyone wants to relive but we must honor the innocent lives lost and those who walked into the face of danger without blinking because it was their job; one they did every day without question, without fail.

There is no danger of this generation forgetting. It is seared into our memories. The pain is still fresh. It is painful to watch TV. As it was 10 years ago but I find myself turning to it or the Internet until the emotional pain becomes too much and I walk away. Then the numbness returns and I go back to watch or read more. It is a viscous cycle but one that bears repeating.

I have this insatiable desire to know the story of each and every person who perished that day. 10 years later and I am learning, for the first time, some amazing stories of ordinary people who, through selfless, courageous acts of their own, saved so many lives while sacrificing their own.

There is a movement to gather the stories of the Greatest Generation because of the rate at which we lose them on a daily basis.

It is time to put a movement to gather the stories of 9/11 because within the pain there is an amazing story of hope. Because within the sorrow, there is honor. Because within the horror, there is bravery.

Because there is so much that the phrase "Never Forget" encompasses.

It encompasses the way the plan was put together and then executed. It encompasses the horrific way people died that day. It encompasses the lives of loved ones lost. It encompasses how one sacrificed for many. How a group, facing a certain death, took control of their destinies and in doing so, saved countless lives. It encompasses the number of people who were spurred to have positive impacts on the lives of others in response to the horror.

As I sit here today remembering this day ten years ago, I struggle with how I will explain it to my son. Each time the story became to painful and I ended up in tears he would comfort me. Each time he would ask me what was wrong. Each time, I answered that I read a sad story. This year, that answer is acceptable. He doesn't push for details but for how long can I keep him in his bubble? For how long can I keep him from knowing just how evil some people can be? For how long can I keep him innocent?

As I pondered, it brought me back to my own childhood and what I've lived through. I am a child of the Cold War. I remember drills in elementary school in the event of a nuclear war. I remember learning, a tad too young, that those drills were a waste of time; that there were multiple Russian warheads aimed right at my city. If the button was pushed, it wouldn't matter how well I cowered under my desk. The city would no longer exist minutes after the button was pushed.

I lived with that fear for years before the Soviet Union imploded. A fear that has yet to be realized.

I watched the Challenger explode live on TV.

Then I watched the Berlin Wall crumble.

I found out that evil people can be as close as your own family and such evil can rip a family apart.

I refuse to let that evil define me.

I stood helpless on the sidelines when a loved one suffered a miscarriage.

I experienced the joy of watching loved ones grow their families.

I had to say goodbye to my father too soon.

I still remember the overwhelming joy of meeting my son for the first time.

I think back and realize I've lived life. Good, bad and shitty. No one sheltered me. No one could. Sometimes shit just happens. Does it suck? Hell yes but I regret nothing. More importantly, not once did fear define my life. Not once did fear control my life (hmmm, maybe we won't discuss my claustrophobia).

The first time a plane landed at National airport after 9/11, I cringed as it flew down the Potomac. I fought the urge to hit the deck. I did freeze. For a second. So did everyone else on the street. A few weeks later, I bought a ticket, boarded a plane and flew home. Not once did I worry about what may happen. Why? Because at that point, I had no control and I was not going to live in fear of something that is going to happen anyway. I am going to die. Some day. I don't know when. Yeah, I hope not for a long freaking time but I don't know. It could be tomorrow.

That is what I am going to teach my son. Yes, life sometimes sucks and yes, sometimes it is really hard to put one foot on the floor and drag your ass out of bed but life does go on and if you push the fear to the back, the good times will come back. Those good times have a tendency to hang around longer than the bad and the memories of the good times can pull you through those bad moments.

So I'll hug him a few extra times today. I'll keep him innocent for one more year and when the time comes that the innocence must leave, I'll strive to help him understand without the fear. I just hope this isn't one of those times I fail as a parent.