I am reading When You Were Older by Catherine Ryan Hyde. Ever heard of her? She's got a few books under her belt. This is the first I've read of hers, but throughout the whole novel thus far, she's had me thinking and I want to read more.
One question that comes to mind is "where was I for 9-11?"
That's easy. I was home. I was "sick". I hated high school. For me being "sick" was a common theme. Hell, I'm surprised I graduated, not because my grades were bad, they weren't, I just never went. When I was there, physically at the school, I was never in a classroom. I had connections.
I remember my mother calling me and me having to get out of bed in order to answer the phone. All I heard on her end was "Oh my God, Mands are you watching this?" Watching what mom? I was sleeping before you rudely interrupted my blissful rest. Sleep was better than the history or gym class I was most likely missing at the time of the phone call. I turned the news on and then became glued to the screen. By the time my parents got home, I was able to tell them everything that the news reporters knew verbatim. I became more attuned to what was going on in the world on that very day.
I grew up in New York, like mentioned before, but the city was a good two and a half to three hours away from where I lived. So the accident didn't affect my every day activities like it did those in the city. But I knew people who were there, people who sat on the runway waiting for their flights to take off, only to find that they were not going anywhere any time in the near future. I knew people who went to school there. Knew people who lived there. I am fortunate to say however, that I did not know anyone who's life was taken far too soon on that horrific day. I just knew people who were in the right place at the right time, not in the air, not in the towers, not around the towers. I certainly didn't know anyone in the pentagon.
I went to school the next day and everyone was a buzz about what happened. I remember after that, we started having what the school called "lockdowns". Where everything would stop. Everything would shut down. We would have to find places to hide, turn off all the lights, and remain silent until the police and their dogs came around or the school administration thought we had been through enough and could resume with our days.
Having the planes fly into the towers and into the pentagon and destroy all those lives did not make me go to school more, it did not make me think less of Muslins, or be hateful to those of a different race or beliefs, it did not make me grounded. What it did do, was make me relish in my family more, it did make me take a second to think about whether I want to fly or drive anywhere (flying usually wins because my legs drive me batshit crazy after a few hours of sitting) and it did make me follow the news more and more. When I get home every night from work CNN of Fox (depending on how I want to view the world that day) will be on my television at some point throughout the evening.
I can argue the lefts and rights, I can argue the rights and the wrongs, I can argue the whites and the blacks and even the grays. I became more aware of what was going on around me.
The novel isn't so much about 9-11, but its about someones story after 9-11 and what he did, how he overcame and what he had to deal with in his life. So far it's a great story and I would recommend to anyone who wanted to listen.
Do you remember where you were when the towers were hit?
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