Where were you...

My parents can recollect with great detail where they were when JFK was assassinated. What they were doing when they heard the news that John Lennon had been shot.

In my own childhood, I can remember watching history unfold as the Challenger space shuttle exploded and the Berlin wall came down.
But I don't remember anything that compared to the global impact of the falling of the Twin Towers on 9/11/01.

Jason and I had been in tech for 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' with The Shakespeare Theatre at the time. Jason was playing Puck, I was playing Titania. When I didn't have the kids in my care, it had become quite common to stay the night at Jay's apartment after late rehearsals because my apartment was so much further from the theatre.

Ten years ago today... at exactly this moment in the late night/early morning, we were having one of our first 'big fights' as a couple. We had made plans to move into a two-bedroom apartment together and the logistics (in addition to being in the middle of tech week) were stressing us out. I don't remember the details of the argument (as is usually the case) but I remember that we had kept each other up until 3 or 4 in the morning.
After reaching an acceptable resolution (whatever it was) we decided to call out of work the next day and play hooky together.

We had only been asleep for a few hours when Jason's cell phone started ringing. I remember assuming it was work-related until he bolted straight out of bed and towards the computer with a, "Dude, WHAT? Slow down...." It was his best friend Bill, calling with the news that we were under attack.

Jason didn't have cable in his apartment (and it was silly to hook it up for the final month before moving out) and so our only news source was radio or internet. (In retrospect, our unintentional boycott of network news was NOT a bad thing at all.)
I remember rubbing the sleepies out of my eyes while Jason pulled up a his internet browser. No search was necessary - photos of the plane hitting the WTC were already plastered everywhere we looked. We were watching the streaming video and trying to make sense of what happened when we saw the second plane hit.

I remember going outside onto the patio. Jay's apartment was in downtown Phx, not too far from Sky Harbor airport - but what was usually busy airspace above the apartment was just an empty sky of blue. There wasn't a plane in sight.
I remember thinking that the eery silence must be an echo of what was happening in New York. I refrained from calling friends, knowing they would have family trying to reach them - and sure that the phone lines and emergency services were already overloaded. Over the course of the day, reports trickled in from friends that were there. Desiree was safe. Albert was safe. And I breathed a little easier.

I remember very vividly our preview performance on 9/12.

Our director and artistic director had briefly discussed pulling the previews in light of the national 'mood'. As a cast, however, we wanted - needed - something to distract from the tragedy and the trauma. We were surprised to have an audience that night (albeit a small one), but what surprised us even more was how freely and appreciatively they laughed.

I think it was then that we realized what laughter can do. I mean, we've all heard that "laughter is the best medicine" but it wasn't until the events of 9/11 that I realized the necessity for true human fellowship. As actors and artists, we were only too happy to delve into a Shakespearean world where "war" was between two quarreling fairies and 'terrorist acts' involved nothing more than a daughter's rebellion and a mischievous sprite with a magic flower. Our audience was ready and willing to be taken along for the ride - and at the end of our preview, we took our curtain call to a standing ovation. For those few sweet hours, it was bliss to be able to just forget. We needed that. The grief was new and raw. We needed to forget - however briefly - about the tragedy and the sorrow and the anger. We needed to be reminded of the beauty in humanity.

After our preview, I remember sitting with a group of friends at an Applebees or a Chili's while 9/11 footage rolled on silent TVs in every corner. We were animated and boisterous when we entered... but the mood inside sobered us instantly. That happened a lot in the days immediately following. We would forget... for an instant... that an entire culture of people hated us. But we would be swiftly reminded with smoke-plumed, fiery news footage.

More than saying I have a predominant 'memory' about 9/11, I'd rather say that the day brought about a realization - a self-awareness, if you will.
Prior to September 2001, I thought that the U.S. was a bad-ass (but compassionate) global superpower that other countries respected and wished to emulate. We have global ambassadors and causes and organizations... we HELP people less fortunate than us. Right?

There was a huge sense of patriotism and loyalty that permeated the U.S., but something else started to happen that day. People began to ask questions.
We started asking, "Why?"

Prior to 9/11, I had never heard of Al-Qaeda and had little idea where Iraq or Afghanistan were located. I've heard a lot of words and catch-phrases thrown around in the ten years since then. Media scrambled for clever soundbytes from the administration - who were calling for righteous indignation, retribution, justice and vindication.

9/11 changed the way I look at war. It also changed the way I look at peace.

The employees of the World Trade Center did not enlist in our nations military or otherwise take oaths to serve and protect. I suspect that most of them (like me) would never have imagined they would have to consider enemies (foreign or domestic) that actually wanted to take their lives. We were not at war. They were on their home soil. Going about their mundane daily routines. What was there to worry about?

As a collective, we managed to piss off a nation - whether through religious, cultural, or financial practices, we incurred the wrath of another collective and no one felt it more than the innocent civilians.

I say 'we'... but in reality, I speak of our government agencies - the foreign representatives and policy-makers that come in direct contact with dignitaries of other countries. Our 'representatives'.
But in warfare, it is always the innocents that suffer. The officers and dignitaries stay home (or in secure locations) while our sons are sent to face the front lines; armed with a government-issued firearm and a sense of 'duty'.

When I see the words "Never Forget", it means something different to me than I think is intended.

I will never forget that day.
I will never forget that I live in a country that is bold and beautiful, but also arrogant and intolerant.
I will never forget that there isn't always one right and one wrong and that sometimes conflict can be resolved with love and acceptance.
I will never forget the day that almost 3,000 of our brothers and sisters were sacrificed in the name of hate.
I will never forget the day that ordinary people became heroes.


2,977 people died from the attacks on the Twin Towers and the Pentagon. Since then, approximately 4,404 armed forces have died in Iraq and 1,140 in Afghanistan. Total U.S. casualties of this war: 8,521 and counting.

In return, the U.S. has been responsible for the deaths of 107,152 civilians in Iraq (still unverified - some counts go as high 150,000) and 8,813 in Afghanistan. Total non-U.S. casualties of this war: 115,965 and counting.

I won't ever forget.
And I won't stop asking how many more innocent people have to die before we remember.