On September 11, 2001, I was 7 months pregnant with my first child. I was living in Chicago, and it was a beautiful, clear, crisp, sunny morning, which I was happy about because I had a flight at 8:30am, and I was happy it would be a smooth one.
I got to the airport and I still remember so clearly, I was standing in the Starbucks line and there was a woman in front of me on her phone with her daughter, saying “Mommy will be home tonight,” “Have a good day at school,” and “I love you.” I remember thinking, ‘That’s going to be me soon!’ I was so large and so uncomfortable, but I was over-the-moon excited for the baby. I was an older mom–36, and considered a high-risk pregnancy. The only reason I was flying today was that my doctor told me I could go on one last business trip, but after this, I had to stay home.
I got to the gate, where several of my co-workers were, and as always, they were making a huge fuss over my very large belly. As they all talked about work things, I glanced over to one of the TVs and saw footage of a plane hitting the World Trade Center. I asked someone who was watching, “What’s going on?” The man replied, “I think someone accidentally flew their plane into the World Trade Center.”
“Oh, that’s awful,” I replied.
If you can believe it, they started to board our plane, and I got on, thinking that was all that was going to happen today. Plus, I had great faith that the FAA would not let anyone fly if we were in danger.
Once on the plane, all the coworkers continued chatting and this went on for over an hour. I glanced out the window and looked at the sunny, blue sky and thought, ‘Why aren’t we taking off? It’s beautiful out.’ All of a sudden, people’s cell phones started to ring and I looked around and saw their faces as they were getting the news I didn’t know about yet.
“I’m getting off this plane!” one guys shouted.
Now I was afraid there would be panic. There was a lot of talking and the voices seemed scared. Shortly after, the flight attendant made an announcement that we would not be going to St. Louis, and that we would be de-boarding momentarily.
While this was all happening, the baby started kicking really hard and I thought I was going into labor.
“Do we need to go to the hospital?” one of my coworkers asked me.
I wasn’t sure. I got off the plane, walked to my car which was parked in long-term parking, and drove home. The mass exit at O’Hare caused a 2-3 hour drive back to the city. I tried to call my now ex-husband and my family, but I couldn’t get a cell, I guess, so the calls weren’t going through. I was particularly panicked because my sister was living in Manhattan and worked near the World Trade Center.
When I finally got home, my ex-husband had the TV on, and explained that this was definitely terrorism, and that a second plane had hit the other tower. From that moment on, we literally sat there for the next couple of days watching the news with devastation and fear.
Devastation and fear: two feelings that have never, ever, ever left me since.
We watched bodies. We watched firefighters and police officers die in the rubble. We watched our country go to war. We heard stories of devastation that was unimaginable. We watched over and over again the burning buildings with people jumping off and or burning inside. We learned who was responsible: Islamic terrorists. We found out that they had taken flying lessons right here in the U.S. to learn how to take off but not to land! We saw them celebrating all over the world the deaths of almost 3000 Americans. It was almost unimaginable…until we saw the celebrations again after October 7.
It’s 25 years later. My baby is now 24, and I have a daughter who is 22. Since they were born and all the time they were growing up, I talked about 9-11. I told them about it. In 2017, I took them to the 9-11 memorial and museum in New York. I sobbed the entire time I was there. They saw that. They didn’t understand and yet they did.
The reason I bring this up is because there are some people who like me, educated their kids about 9-11, to ensure that this could never happen again. There are also parents who did not educate their children about 9-11, and now it seems more did not than did. Here’s why it matters.
According to the U.S. Census Bureau, there are 100 million people living in the U.S. who were not born yet on 9-11-2001. That’s approximately 29% of the U.S. population, and 3 in 10 Americans.
If you ask a lot of people in their teens or twenties, “Do you know who was responsible for 9-11?” They can’t answer you. They don’t understand what it was about and they have no idea how severe the impact was. Why is that a problem? I think you know. It’s not just a problem, it’s a HUGE problem, and for the life of me, I cannot understand why in 2001, elementary school curriculums didn’t include the history of 9-11.
When I was in 5th grade, we spent months in my elementary school in Pittsburgh learning about the Bicentennial. We made flags and other decorative art for the celebration of the 200th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. That’s exciting and happy and celebratory, but isn’t it just as important, if not more important to teach our kids about the devastation of 9-11?
I truly feel like we have done our children a disservice by how little they know of 9-11. When I was a kid, I was taught to love and cherish and respect America. I was taught that I was beyond lucky to be a U.S. Citizen and have this life. It was drilled in my head to be patriotic and to love and defend my country. That’s not to say America is perfect, or that we don’t have racism, or that everything is fair. All I’m saying is look around at all the countries in the world. We live in the best country of all. There is no better. Yes, we have so much room for improvement, but if you were born here, you hit the jackpot.
My dad was the son of immigrants. He grew up poor. He didn’t finish high school. He joined the military, and when he got out, he started a business, and then another business. He married my mom and they had the four of us. He sold his last business and retired at 60. That’s the American dream, and guess what? My dad wasn’t given any special treatment. He did it all on his own. That’s what America offers. Anyone who wants to work hard can achieve. That’s capitalism and it is undeniably the best way to live.
I learned how to be an entrepreneur from my dad, and I am now a successful small business owner, and I too have this great country to thank. But I am worried about this great country because kids are not informed about what actually happened on 9-11 and who was responsible. If you want to call me a racist, go ahead. But I’m not a racist, I’m a proud American, who loves seeing immigrants come here and bring their beautiful, interesting cultures, but who are here to honor our country’s laws and live here as Americans, too. Anyone getting the benefits of being a U.S. citizen should respect the U.S. Makes sense, doesn’t it?
I think I will always be traumatized by what happened on that bright blue sunny morning of September 11, 2001. I will always think back to that lady in the Starbucks line talking to her daughter, and to the thousands of moms who that day, probably said similar things to their kids and then died.
Today, like every year on 9-11, I will pray. I will pray for the families of the people who died that day, and I will also pray for America. For those who hate it here, I invite you to leave. You have the freedom to move somewhere else. But for those who love it here like I do, I urge you to educate your children and grandchildren, so that we’re all on the same page about what happened that awful day.
I’ve heard people say, “Never forget…but now we have forgotten.” I don’t think that’s the case. I think that no one has forgotten. I think people just forgot to tell their children about it, and there lies the danger of our future. If we want a happy, healthy AMERICAN future, we need to start talking about September 11, 2001, not just on every anniversary of it, but as a form of education to preserve the foundation of freedom.
God Bless America, this wonderful nation I love so much.