The Day I'll Never Forget And the Gratefulness With It
As I went on about my weekend, which turned into Monday, I realized I didn't have anything written down for blog entries. Normally, I would write ideas down in a notebook with the dates, and a few sentences pertaining to the topic at hand. I ran on four and a half hours sleep after a dinner party last night (thanks Theresa) and went on about my Monday with my 4-5 year old class. It was this morning that I had planned to tell a Jay Cutler joke or two following the NFL opening season yesterday (and Bears loss). Tell me Miami, how is Prince Jay working out thus far?
Then I realized what day it was, and that became my topic. The day that America as we know it changed forever. The day that we, as Americans, watched lower Manhattan succumb to a devastating act so profound, millions of lives changed.
September 11, 2001.
I was working on the north side of Milwaukee at a childcare center. When news of the Towers hit, I thought it was a joke. Sure enough, it wasn't. We, as a staff, watched as a landmark crumbled to the ground, contributing to the deaths and injuries to thousands of people in Manhattan. The media coverage, both national and local, brought the realization that our beautiful country was faced with the threat of terrorism. Speculation was that LA or another city could be next. As I thought about it, I knew how I would feel if something happened to the Sears Tower or Hancock Building, two Chicago landmarks. Chicago is my birth city and very special to me.
The mood within the center was somber and quiet. Each of us lost in our thoughts as we went on about our day. Nobody said much, and the agony, along with despair, grief and sadness stretched beyond the five boroughs and NJ turnpike. It stretched down Interstate 90 westbound, spreading through the entire country. What Manhattan felt, we felt. I went to bed that night wondering what if Milwaukee was hit? What if I was there when it happened? Knowing I was safe, I went to sleep that night, praying that God would keep us from another terrorist attack.
The next day, it was back to normal. Normal as in normal routine. Not so normal as in the Towers were gone, WTC demolished and New York, along with America, began putting the pieces back together.
My father was born in Yugoslavia and has lived in this country for over sixty years. My mother was born here. I was born here. In Chicago, to be exact. When I was sixteen, I traveled to my father's country to see my paternal grandmother, presumed dead. I'll never forget flying over Italy and seeing country from the air, including Sicily. Or the jet lag and my Uncle Bojo pouring me a shot of plum brandy.
In 1994, I spent the summer with a friend of mine on State Street in downtown Madison. She was working on a project about homeless people. We spent the day and night with them, getting to know me and seeing how they lived. An eye opening experience, I was grateful for that experience, as it taught me a lot about life and everything that comes with it.
I think back to that teenager in a foreign country, and that young woman on State Street walking around with a screwdriver in the middle of the day. The comforts of home and the joy of living here in America. The things we have in America that couldn't be found in other countries. Now the entire world has a piece of America in it, from restaurants to I phones. Civilization has changed over the last twenty years, and some of us may have lost our gratitude along the way.
The gratitude of being thankful that we have many conveniences and live in a beautiful country with many landmarks. But that is just part of the gratitude of which I am speaking.
I'm talking about the people who serve our country, making it a safer place to live. The ones who are away from their families days, weeks and months at a time. The ones who sacrifice their lives just so we can live ours.
When I drive to work, or run errands, work out or do something, I think about those victims of 9/11 and their families. When I drive to Chicago and explore the city, I think about the fact that Chicago could've been destroyed, not NYC. And lastly, I think about the people who protect and serve this country, so I can do the things I do.
Thank you to those that serve this country. I appreciate it.
On this day of 9/11, I will never forget where I was, or what I was doing. And I will always be grateful to the service men and women, along with God, for protecting all of us as a nation.
Then I realized what day it was, and that became my topic. The day that America as we know it changed forever. The day that we, as Americans, watched lower Manhattan succumb to a devastating act so profound, millions of lives changed.
September 11, 2001.
I was working on the north side of Milwaukee at a childcare center. When news of the Towers hit, I thought it was a joke. Sure enough, it wasn't. We, as a staff, watched as a landmark crumbled to the ground, contributing to the deaths and injuries to thousands of people in Manhattan. The media coverage, both national and local, brought the realization that our beautiful country was faced with the threat of terrorism. Speculation was that LA or another city could be next. As I thought about it, I knew how I would feel if something happened to the Sears Tower or Hancock Building, two Chicago landmarks. Chicago is my birth city and very special to me.
The mood within the center was somber and quiet. Each of us lost in our thoughts as we went on about our day. Nobody said much, and the agony, along with despair, grief and sadness stretched beyond the five boroughs and NJ turnpike. It stretched down Interstate 90 westbound, spreading through the entire country. What Manhattan felt, we felt. I went to bed that night wondering what if Milwaukee was hit? What if I was there when it happened? Knowing I was safe, I went to sleep that night, praying that God would keep us from another terrorist attack.
The next day, it was back to normal. Normal as in normal routine. Not so normal as in the Towers were gone, WTC demolished and New York, along with America, began putting the pieces back together.
My father was born in Yugoslavia and has lived in this country for over sixty years. My mother was born here. I was born here. In Chicago, to be exact. When I was sixteen, I traveled to my father's country to see my paternal grandmother, presumed dead. I'll never forget flying over Italy and seeing country from the air, including Sicily. Or the jet lag and my Uncle Bojo pouring me a shot of plum brandy.
In 1994, I spent the summer with a friend of mine on State Street in downtown Madison. She was working on a project about homeless people. We spent the day and night with them, getting to know me and seeing how they lived. An eye opening experience, I was grateful for that experience, as it taught me a lot about life and everything that comes with it.
I think back to that teenager in a foreign country, and that young woman on State Street walking around with a screwdriver in the middle of the day. The comforts of home and the joy of living here in America. The things we have in America that couldn't be found in other countries. Now the entire world has a piece of America in it, from restaurants to I phones. Civilization has changed over the last twenty years, and some of us may have lost our gratitude along the way.
The gratitude of being thankful that we have many conveniences and live in a beautiful country with many landmarks. But that is just part of the gratitude of which I am speaking.
I'm talking about the people who serve our country, making it a safer place to live. The ones who are away from their families days, weeks and months at a time. The ones who sacrifice their lives just so we can live ours.
When I drive to work, or run errands, work out or do something, I think about those victims of 9/11 and their families. When I drive to Chicago and explore the city, I think about the fact that Chicago could've been destroyed, not NYC. And lastly, I think about the people who protect and serve this country, so I can do the things I do.
Thank you to those that serve this country. I appreciate it.
On this day of 9/11, I will never forget where I was, or what I was doing. And I will always be grateful to the service men and women, along with God, for protecting all of us as a nation.
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