It was strange that my bedside phone would be ringing before 8:00 in the morning. This particular phone was one of those old rotary Celebrity phones that had sat on my night table in my first Dallas apartment through a couple of other places and was here in the house Karl and I had then been living in for 13 years and still live in today. While it still had that place of honor, it did not have caller ID. So I roused myself up to try not to sound like I had been on a bender the night before as I had no idea who was calling.
It was a friend of mine asking if I was up, which he surely knew I wasn’t likely to be. He told me a plane had flown into the World Trade Center, and I thought he meant the one in Dallas. Of course, he quickly clarified he was talking about one of the towers in New York. I stumbled around to turn the television on, while he excused himself to make more calls. (Back then, the only way to know what was happening was to be watching television.)
I made my way to the big TV in the den, which was not so big by today’s standards, and settled into my usual chair and tuned into The Today Show. Within minutes, the second plane flew into the second tower. It was clear something coordinated had been happening. Before much longer, we knew about the attack on the Pentagon. And then Flight 93. All of this in just over an hour.
Alone at home, I called Karl and my nephew at their offices but couldn’t reach them. As things were shutting down all over the country, they were both back home early, and my vigil in the den continued until Karl told me to stop obsessing and come to bed around midnight.
Probably everyone who has what might be called an adult remembrance of that day has some story to tell about September 11, 2001. On anniversaries of that day, there’s been a kind of standard phrase that goes with the event. Simply put, it is “Never forget.”
Well, we’re 25 years out now, so a question is begged. Have we forgotten? I’m pretty sure most of us couldn’t forget even if we wanted to do so. The issue seems to me to be less about remembering what happened and more about accepting that the Americans who experienced that trauma are aging out.
The median age in the United States is 39.5 years. That special person who right this instant is exactly in the middle of the age range would then have been born in 1987. On the other hand, to have an adult remembrance of September 11, one would have needed to be born no later than 1983 (which would produce an 18th birthday in 2001). Think about that for just a minute.
The majority of Americans have not forgotten. The majority aren’t old enough to remember that day, at least not in all its implications. Even though a study by the Pew Research Center indicates 93% of those 35 and older remember where they were on that day, I would posit that current adults who were prepubescent 25 years ago did not experience that day as their parents likely did. There are a whole bunch of baby boomers who remember where they were on November 22, 1963, but they did not fully experience the assassination of John Kennedy.
Let’s look at what Osama bin Laden gave as some of his reasons for his two fatawa in 1996 and 1998. There was financial support of the Saudi royal family by the American government, and American intervention throughout the Arab world, and continued support of Israel, to name just a few.
Many folks get touchy just thinking about bin Laden. But it is true that many Americans are concerned by the current administration’s relationship with the Saudis, particularly reporting around the word “nuclear.” Nothing says intervention in the Arab world like bombing Iran, a country in whose history we have been meddling since the Eisenhower administration. This war, if it should be called a war, is not supported by the majority of the American people according to the latest polling, and it gets more unpopular the longer it drags on. As for Israel, I’m only going to say it’s complicated. Deeply complicated.
I won’t be watching any coverage on the anniversary any more than I watch documentaries or movies about the AIDS epidemic. I know that many, if not most of us, haven’t forgotten and never will. But did we collectively learn anything?
Not much, which truly compounds the tragedy.
