Tag Archives: charlotte

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Where We Were When The Towers Fell

Note: Originally Published 9-11-06

Five years ago on this day I was teaching at East Gaston High School in North Carolina, just outside Charlotte.  I was 24 years old at that time.

We taught on something called the block schedule, which, in our case, meant I had four 90 minute periods a day, one of which was a prep period. 

I had just finished teaching 1st period and stood in the hall keeping track of things.  A teacher came up to me and told me a plane had just hit the World Trade Center.  Of course, I said something to the effect of it must have been a prop plane that had somehow gotten off course.

I had a television in my classroom propped from the wall and so I turned it on to see the news coverage.  I was shocked when I saw the first tower that had been hit in smoke and flames.  I realized then that it had not been a mere prop plane that had struck it.

Reports soon informed me that it had been a passenger plane that had smashed into the side of it.  The cause of the impact had yet to be determined, but I know I assumed it had to be a terrible, terrible accident.

When I saw the second plane strike the second tower live on television, I knew it was no accident, and I think most people knew it as well.

I sat at a desk in my empty classroom completely shocked.  When the first tower fell, and then the second, I moved into whatever realm exists beyond shock.

When 3rd period started, I had students ushering in and I had a choice: teach my lesson planned for that day or discuss what was happening at that very moment.  Of course, the decision was an easy one and we talked at length about the terrible loss of life and the fact that people were dying even as we spoke.  We all were very emotional at that prospect and we watched the television in a respectful silence, as did all my classes for the rest of that school day.

Of course, when I got home to my empty rental house I turned on the TV and remained glued to it for the rest of the night.  I had just come off a bad breakup and wanted nothing more than to move back to Illinois, but I knew I had eight more months to go before I could do that.  As I sat there, alone in the dark, watching the events unfolding and thinking about how long it would be before I got back to what I considered my home, I really and truly couldn’t imagine what it would be like for the people in those towers and on those planes who would never get to go home again.  They would never hold their child, their husband or wife, their friends or family, ever again.  I thought of the loved ones of those victims and what a horrible, horrible reality they now faced.  I thought of the brave men and women rushing to rescue anyone they could, and I wondered if I could ever have that sort of selflessness and courage.

Over the next few days I started hearing names I’d never heard of before in my life.  Names that now are part of are national vernacular.  Names like Al-Qaida and Osama bin Laden.  I discovered that terrorists had attacked us, and I remember thinking to myself, “Why?”  At that moment, most terrorism I knew of were from names like McVeigh and Kaczynski.

I also remember the incredible amount of patriotism that flooded our great nation.  Everything took on an esteemed importance, as though we realized that every moment of life was not to be trifled away and wasted.  We were proud of our nation and we were proud of our heroes. 

Five years later things have not turned out exactly as we probably had planned.  I won’t go the route of cynicism, but I wish the patriotism that resulted from that terrible day still existed.  I have mixed feelings on virtually every aspect of our current political climate, but I don’t have any mixed feelings on the importance of patriotism.  We are a great nation.  Those willing to stand up to oppression centuries ago forged who we are today and we’ve always fought oppression throughout our history.  Granted, sometimes we took longer to fight it than we should have, and the fight continues on many fronts even to this day, both at home and abroad, but we are a great nation because the people that make our nation up have the potential to be true heroes. 

My parents’ generation always talks about how they remember where they were when President John F. Kennedy was shot.  I think my generation will always remember where we were when the towers fell.

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Feeling Satisfied After LOST

Last night the fourth season of LOST wrapped up and it left me feeling intensely satisfied. 

It is inarguably clear that the writers now have an end-goal in sight and are steadily working towards it.  I’ll admit, in earlier seasons, they played it pretty fast and loose with previous plot elements and characters.  That didn’t bother me, mind you, I enjoyed the ride no matter how bumpy, but I understood how it could be frustrating for some.  Those days are over, though.  Season four was tight from the get-go and only got better with each episode.

In fact, this fourth season was probably the most consistent, reliable, and well-written of any previous seasons.  And as all season finales must, it left us with plenty of questions.  Consequently, it also unquestionably answered some gargantuan mysteries posed throughout the season as well.  I’ll say it again because I think it bears repeating, I think this was probably its strongest season in terms of pure story-telling from the first episode to the last and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the pure craft and creativity involved in delivering such an intricate and well thought-out tale.

There’s such beauty in how the title has taken on a whole new meaning!  (Spoilers  ahead!)  How perfect that it is literally the island that is now lost.  I love the irony as well that Jack previously wanted nothing more than to get his friends off the island so they could be found, and now that he’s accomplished that task, he’s the one who must gather them together to take them back.  Of all people, how befitting that he’s the one most lost without the island!  It’s the classic case of not knowing what you truly want until you can’t have it any longer and then subsequently feeling empty.  Aren’t we all guilty of that in some aspect or another?

Oh, sure, there are still plenty of questions, but isn’t that entirely the fun of the show?  Those questions that leave us with such a plethora of possibilities, I can’t help but get excited to see what’s in store of us!  For instance, where (or when) is the island?  What has Sawyer and Juliet been up to for the last three years?  Was that really Locke in the coffin?  (Totally NOT who I thought it would be, by the way.  My money was on Michael, and I’m pretty sure they manipulated me into thinking so from the beginning.  I’m such a sucker.)  What is the significance of the name Jeremy Bentham?  Did Jin and Michael really die?  Is Hurley really nuts, and if not, why is he talking to dead people?  Best of all, has Sun turned evil because Jack let Jin perish?  (Oh, what a wonderful villainess she would make after being repressed for so long!  I’d love to see all her spite and anger unleashed!)  Furthermore, what’s in store for the fantastic additions to the cast in the fourth season-Miles, Charlotte, Frank, and the wonderfully quirky Daniel?  What’s Claire’s connection to Jacob and Christian?  Is that really Christian, or is that pesky smoke-monster doing impersonations again?

This season’s finale delivered the “wow-factor” in terms of surprise, action, drama, adventure, and pure excitement.  I know season five is a long ways off, but like so much in life, anticipation is sublime!  Thanks to all involved with LOST for giving us a season to be proud of!