Lily Writes

Today is the 25th anniversary of the September 11 attacks on the United States—the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, Shanksville.

I’m old enough that I was alive when JFK was shot. Not quite old enough to remember it. My older siblings do. My parents did.

We all remember 9/11.

I was at work, executive director of a chamber of commerce. My sister called me around ten. Unusual for her to call. She used my business line.  Her voice was tense. Turn on the news. Turn on the news!

I did—and was shocked to watch the first of the towers collapse.

My staff came in to see what was going on and huddled around my computer screen. We all watched as the second tower collapsed.

The news played the images over and over.

A plane crashing into the tower. Over and over.

We were all shocked.

Stunned.

Afraid.

Buildings with towers, including the Renaissance Center in Detroit, were being evacuated.

Flights were grounded.  It was days before some of our chamber members were able to get home from business trips. They were stranded and had to find rental cars or vans. Pooling with other stranded travelers, they used anything they could find to get home.

September 11.

My birthday is two days after that.

We also had a major festival coming up in less than two weeks.

How do we go on with it when the nation is grieving, afraid?

How can we not? It was a major fundraiser, providing nearly 40% of our non-membership operating funds.

There are times when you’re the one in charge when you really don’t want to be.  I met with the fire department, police department, and the sheriff’s department. Had an emergency meeting with the mayor and my board of directors.

They all turned to me. “What’s your recommendation?”

I wanted them to tell me what to do. They expected me to tell them.

The show must go on.

And great care was given to how we did it.

Area first responders brought a ladder truck with a giant American flag. Our team worked to set up vendor booths. As the start time for our festival approached, we held our breath.  The flag unfurled in the evening darkness, spotlights illuminating the rippling red, white, and blue.

Will people come out when we’ve all been hunkered down in our homes since the attack?

It started slow and then picked up fast. People came. People connected. People sought out friends, neighbors, people they didn’t know—and they talked. Ate. Mingled. Some cried as they recounted their personal connections to what happened.

And it turned out—the festival was exactly what we needed. When we needed it.

The ripples of that day were felt for a long time. They continue to be felt, though sometimes I look around and listen, shaking my head.  You’re missing the point. HOW can you forget the most important lesson we learned on 9/11?  We are not isolated towers of self-interest and safety. We are one. One nation. One people. One world.

I don’t want to go through something like that again… but history isn’t going to listen.

Being a writer, I soak up a lot. Read a lot. Pay attention a lot. Humanity is a curious beast. And one very susceptible to manipulation. We forget that our differences don’t erase our shared humanity or our responsibility to one another. Why does it so often take tragedy to remind us of something we should already know? The way forward is to care for each other.

Yet we forget that lesson again and again and again.

We cannot afford to be complacent.

We have a responsibility to remember what fear can do to us, reject attempts to turn neighbors against neighbors, and vote according to the kind of country we want to be. Midterms are coming (cue Jaws theme track). Things must change.

This isn’t about taking the country back from somebody; it’s about deciding where we go next, together.

We need each other—and fear should never make us forget it.

Abstract oil mini-painting by Penny S. Shanks