9/11 Hope, Love, and Hate

Hello again...and yes I know it's the 13th but it's taken me a while to put my thoughts in order.  So this is what has been in my brain about 9/11 and it's greater impact on me.


Everyone remembers what they were doing when they found out.  Some of you heard on the news and probably thought there was some mistake or that the media had blown it out of proportion.  Some of you may have heard someone mention something about it and were sure it was blown out of proportion.  Some of you, like me, witnessed the horror live.  I was in class.  It was a normal morning until Mr Karney pushed open the door and said simply "Channel ##".  I don't remember the channel number but I won't forget the look on his face.  My teacher didn't either so naturally the first thing we did was turn towards the TV.  To this point in time Tomah didn't really have TVs hooked up to cable in the rooms so even that was a bit weird but even the relatively new feeling of the situation didn't take away from the gravity in Mr K's voice.  As a unit we all turned and watched.  It just so happened we tuned in early enough that even those broadcasting were still trying to figure out what happened.  There was much conjecture and just a repeat image of smoke poring out of the side of the tower.  Occasionally, mixed in with different feeds of the billowing smoke, were commentaries about the amount of people that worked in the building or possibly could be affected.  There was still no notion of why.

For some reason, why seemed so important.  Why would someone do this?  What motivation could someone possibly have?  Then they showed to crash from a different angle.  It was this point in time that my brain quirked for a moment.  Something wasn't right because we had been seeing reruns of the limited coverage and this didn't look real...and then it dawned on us all.  We had just witnessed the second crash.  I was numb.  At this moment, in front of my computer, I still remember the screen shot and heads I was peering over to watch.  I remember my heart pounding because I wasn't sure and I wanted so badly to be wrong.  Someone in the class had just said "that can't be another one...it had to be the first one" in such a way that it sounded like a prayer.  


All of you have your own story of how/when/where you heard of the tragedy and we've all heard of many stories of heartbreak and heroism.  Lately I haven't been thinking so much of these stories because I have been so focused on WHY.
You know that quote that every History teacher has said at least once and regrets to this day..."Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it" or something to that effect anyway.  I believe there is a nugget of truth there.  But the reality is that I hated what happened that day and I couldn't rectify it in my brain. Why was there so much hate?  How could that have been condoned by religion?  Who could have done such a thing?  In my mind I hated them.  I thought of scenarios in which I was the hero saving the day by smashing those responsible into oblivion.  In my mind my hate was justified.  It was through my hate that we would be saved.  


As a country we then became distracted by tales of heroism.  We heard of old firemen who snuck their way into "ground zero" to fight tooth and nail to save those that could be saved.  We heard of men and women working for hours and hours on end with no regard for their own safety to dig through rubble and mess just to search for survivors.  And as a country we hoped.  As a country we clung to these stories in hopes there was a brighter tomorrow.  We watched our TV for inspiration and we longed to see stories of the human condition we could rejoice about in light of this terrible attack.  Immediately after this horrible experience America was glued to the hope of making tomorrow better.  But in order to make tomorrow better we had to remember those and the sacrifice they made.  


I had a coach in college that spoke of the opportunity that current players had of playing football and how we built our program on the backs of those gone before us.  America regained some of it's identity on the backs of the firemen, servicemen, and all of the volunteers, supporters, and contributors to the efforts of moving past this monstrosity.  But throughout this process one thing remained if only on the surface.  One simmering emotion that spawned backlash across the country.  There was still one part of our American experience underpinning the emotional status of the culture...hate.

I hated...We Hated.  We hated those responsible.  We hated those who thought this kind of thing was okay.  We hated those who might have had a chance to stop this and did nothing.  We were outraged that someone would slaughter all of those innocents to get back at the US.  And we were JUSTIFIED.  

Now to be clear.  To lose a loved one in the way that 9/11 happened is something I will never comprehend because I didn't live it.  I have no judgement for those people who haven't been able to forgive nor do I expect that they do so.  My thoughts centered only around how we can prevent ourselves from becoming perpetrators of similar tragedy in the future. 


The common theme here is hate.  If we allow hate to dominate the way we see a given situation we have already become someone who sees somebody else as a roadblock to be averted in order to reach our goal.  When we define our world with hate we devalue those we share this world with to the point that they become secondary to our passion regardless of what is right.  It is my prayer that we, as a nation and culture, can find a way not to hate but to love.  Love doesn't mean free passes and forgiveness to all those as long as we hear the words "sorry".  Love demands accountability but the questions is accountability to what.  


I hope that future generations can say that love defined them and not hate...am I now a hippie?  


my thoughts such as they are