Never Forget, yet already forgotten

I was driving the daughters of a friend recently and the song came on and one of my favorite songs from High School came on.  It was country artist' Alan Jackson's "Where were you when the world stopped turning?" The song went through possible scenarios of where you might have been when you heard the news about the Terrorist Attacks that occurred on Tuesday, September 11, 2001, and it reminded us that God was with us and that faith, hope, and love come from God but the greatest of these is and always will be love.  The song made me cry but also reminded me of the past.  One of the girls asked me what it was about and I answered what I thought was the obvious response, "It's about the Terrorist Attacks."  She nodded and then said, "Yeah, I don't remember that."  I was in shock which was only further added to when her sister said, "I wasn't born when that happened."  Their eldest sister interjected, "It's okay, Miss Gabbie.  I remember."  I sighed a sigh of relief until she added, "I was like four."  All was silent in the car as I did the math of how old they are versus how long it has been and shuddered.  Then one of them asked very softly, very politely, very innocently as only a child can ask, "What was it like?"  And just liked that I was swept away with memory.

I remember listening to the radio as Mama drove us to school and hearing Sean Hannity screaming about something none of us understood.  Mama had shook her head and turned off the radio, a rarity for her.  He had only come on the air on the West Coast the day before and already had a reputation for screaming a lot so we discounted much of what he said.  I remember when we finally got word what had happened and the shock that followed.  Mama took us all home and we missed school that day- an unprecedented act.
I remember the weeks following were a time of great fear.  I remember when they dug up the the ammunition stores that you could see from the highway at the joint forces military base near our house.  I remember as friends of mine said goodbye to their fathers and brothers as they prepared to go to war.  I remember going on vacation away from Los Angeles around any American holidays because my parents were afraid of another attack.  I remember the state of panic because everyone was on edge.  I remember the day I realized that every one of the planes that were hijacked were en route to California, flights that people I knew took regularly.  I remember that in many ways that was the day I grew up and stopped being a child.

"We call it Patriot Day at school," one of the girls informed me, "but it doesn't really mean much."  I began to feel very old.  "It's in the past," another said, "Why do we need to remember?"  At this point I began to lecture pretty sternly.
"Do you know what Memorial Day signifies?  How bout Labor Day or the Fourth of July?  Have you ever heard of the attack on Pearl Harbor that brought the U.S. World War II or the sinking of the Lusitania that started our fight in World War I?  Or the bomb shelters during the Cold War?"  My lecture continued on and on as I recalled events that sparked war for our nation and was nearly in tears by the time we reached our destination.  It occurred to me that like "the day that will live in infamy" we had already forgotten what we swore we would never forget.

I may try to explain to future generations what it felt like to live in fear- that we didn't know if or when there would be another attack and what it felt like being left behind to remember.  Someday I will grow old and my memory will fade.  I may not remember important dates or figures from the past and I probably won't always be this beautiful.  I may forget a lot of things, but I promise that I will never forget where I was when the Twin Towers fell, or when I saw the hole in the pentagon, or when the heroes on flight 93 brought down the plane in Pennsylvania.  I will never forget.  And for as long as I live, I will tell my stories so that others can remember through them as well.