(Originally Published on September 9, 2021 in The Pine Belt News.)
It’s my birthday. This is the first time one of my columns has been published on my birthday. That raises the question: What to write about? Age? OK. I'm old. That’s enough about my birthday.
Suffice it to say, I've been around for a generously long time and this old head of mine is filled with memories. Most good, some bad. Since 2001, though, my birthday has been joined by memories of another event no American will forget. Two days from now, Sept. 11, marks the 20th anniversary of the terrorist attack on New York City's – no, make that America's – World Trade Center. The tragedy has become known simply as 9/11, the day four commercial jetliners were hijacked by terrorists.
Two of the jets slammed into the Trade Center's twin towers, another into the Pentagon. We watched in horror as much of it unfolded on live television. By the time passengers on the fourth airliner, United Airlines Flight 93, realized what was about to happen to them, a group of heroic passengers overtook the hijackers. In a true act of heroism and sacrifice, they caused the airliner to crash into a Pennsylvania farm field, killing everyone aboard. It is believed the hijackers on that jet were headed back to Washington, D.C., with the U.S. Capitol or the White House in their sights.
More than 2,990 people died in the attacks that day, including the hijackers. I'm betting we all remember where we were when we heard the news.
I'd awakened on a typical Tuesday, ready to enjoy my morning coffee and read the Clarion-Ledger. Watching NBC's “TODAY Show” was part of my morning routine, white noise as I sipped my coffee and read the paper. Turning on my TV, though, I was taken aback by what I saw and heard. Gone was the usual cotton-candy banter between Katie Couric and Matt Lauer, replaced by much more sober tones from the show’s anchors. As I took in the images on the screen, my first question was, "Why is the World Trade Center on fire?" Of course, we all know the rest of the story.
I tuned in just after the first jet, American Airlines Flight 11, crashed into the north tower of the World Trade Center. Katie and Matt were still trying to figure out what had happened. They, along with me, had so many questions. What was the size of the aircraft? Was it a commercial jet, or smaller private aircraft? Why would it have been flying so low over Manhattan's skyscrapers? But even as we questioned how and why, from out of nowhere, the second airliner, a United Airlines Flight 757, crashed into the south tower.
I will never forget Couric's words following that second impact, as she stated the obvious: "This was no accident." She was right. By then, we all knew the United States was under attack.
As fate would have it, on my to-do list that morning was to book airline reservations for, of all places, New York City. Back then, I took an annual trip to Manhattan to meet up with friends I worked with for an extended weekend of fun in the Big Apple. As the events of 9/11 unfolded, those flight reservations were put on hold. In fact, it seemed all of America was put on hold.
I phoned my friend, Linda, in New York City, the host for our annual pilgrimages. I also called the other member of our team, my dear — and, sadly, late — friend Frank, who lived in Birmingham. The big question was, do we still take our trip to the city? After waiting a day or two, we decided yes, our trip must go on. The way we saw it, if we didn't go, it would be like letting the terrorists win. After all, one of their goals was to disrupt our lives and make us live in fear.
A few weeks later, I arrived at New York's LaGuardia Airport. My taxi ride across the East River into the city was different this time. Downtown Manhattan's iconic skyline was interrupted by a hole in the sky where the 110-story twin towers of the World Trade Center once peeked through the clouds.
My friends and I decided to visit the site, some catharsis for Frank and me, even though Linda was reluctant to join us. As a native New Yorker, seeing the remains of the building was emotionally harder for her. She lives in Greenwich Village and would see the twin towers almost every day of her life.
Hundreds of people were there as if paying respects to those lost on 9/11. A mountain of rubble was all that remained of the massive buildings. A full month later, smoke still smoldered, accompanied by the acrid smell of burning electrical wiring. It was all the work of a band of evil men who'd pulled off the greatest tragedy to strike our country since the attack on Pearl Harbor.
And yet, New York City proudly soldiered on. The subways were running, Frank and I attended "The Producers" on Broadway, tourists crowded Times Square and Macy's flagship store in Midtown was as busy as ever. The energy that has always defined New York City was there. But still, the memory of what had happened a month earlier was inescapable.
Memorials for those lost in the 9/11 attack dotted public spaces around the city. Even more sobering were photos of the missing, accompanied by pleas for help: "Have you seen this person?"
Passing a fire station on Eighth Avenue, there were a number of well-wishes left by visitors. More than 170 New York City firemen lost their lives in selfless efforts to rescue victims of the attacks. One greeting in particular at the station stood out for me. It was a handmade poster with the heartfelt words, "Hattiesburg, Mississippi is praying for you, New York." I've often wondered who left that sign.
So, here we are 20 years later. And just as Pearl Harbor drew us into WW II, the 9/11 attacks, orchestrated by Al-Qaida and its leader, Osama bin Laden, led us into war in Afghanistan. Our stated mission was to get bin Laden, a goal accomplished by U.S. military special forces in 2011 while President Obama was in office.
As far as bin Laden's demise, I believe it's safe to say that few of us felt pity over the death of a man who dealt in wholesale death.
After killing bin Laden 10 years ago in his Pakistani compound, wasn’t our mission in Afghanistan "completed?" Maybe that was the time to leave the country, rather than turning it into what seemed like a "forever war." Our chaotic exit cost the lives of more U.S. military personnel and innocent Afghans. The war may be over but the debates over the withdrawal will continue for decades.
The dreadful memories of Sept. 11, 2001, are seared into our minds. Still, in those days immediately following the attacks, I can't help but remember how our country pulled together and united as one, behaving the way a national family should.
Al-Qaida? The Taliban? They are enemies of our country, two groups that are evil personified. Worse though, in our days of political division, joined by a pandemic, we seem to have gone and made each other the enemy. With the multiple crises we are facing, I long for that feeling of unity we experienced following the events of 9/11.
Twenty years later, on my birthday, I've never been more frightened by the divisions I see today in our country. And, yes, that includes the tumultuous times I lived through that defined the 1960s, with Vietnam and the fight for civil rights.
For now though, is it too much to hope that we stop fighting each other and instead work together, fighting for each other? Never mind my birthday; that would be the perfect present. For all of us.
Elijah Jones is a proud Hattiesburg native who enjoys writing. Email him: edjhubtown@aol.com.
