The phone awoke me, not a smart phone or even cellular phone, I wouldn't possess one of those until a year later. It was a simple wireless phone purchased from Target for no more then twenty dollars. My friend from down the hall was calling me.
"Dude, turn on the TV!" he said excitedly.
"Why?" I sleepily replied.
"Just turn it on, doesn't even matter what channel."
"Dude, I'm up in my bed, and I'm not getting down unless you tell..."
"The world trade center has been hit."
"Hit? What do you mean."
"Turn on the TV!"
Yes, we did, and still do to this day, use 90's nomenclature like 'dude'.
More confused now then in a typical day of college class work, I proceeded to do my grip and slide with a nice thunk onto the tile floor, as my roommates rug did not quite extend to the base of my loft. Spinning to address my 19" tube TV, I reached for the remote that was resting directly next to the front facing power and channel buttons, and turned he device on.
The very first image was of a plane striking one of the famous twin towers buildings, with it's smoking, smoldering twin behind it.
I never really knew if that was a live shot or a replay of the scene moments earlier, and I don't know if the cries and gasps that were audible through my heavy wooden door were always there, or if I was still opening up my senses for the day. All I know is that I didn't understand.
A plane striking a skyscraper, though I had no knowledge of that ever happening didn't seem like such a far fetched concept, but two planes at twin towers. Pajamas and all I entered the dorm hallway intended to seek my friend hoping to gain some new insight, I must have passed three or four of my floor mates that shared my expression along the way. Looks of shock, shrugged shoulders, and awestruck while attempting to consider the implications.
Once in my friends room, the stuttered questions and wordless explanations came fast. News mutterings of victims counts possible being over 30,000 lives. Other students stopped in trying to garner other insights as we began to form small groups. It was in these groups that terms like 'terrorist attack' were first uttered. It was the only explanation that added up. This was not an accident, this was not a coincidence. This happened because someone wanted to harm America.
Shortly after, reports of the Pentagon being hit in a similar manner and a downed plane in Pennsylvania began to confirm this theory.
I remember thinking that this doesn't happen here. Far removed from the volatility of dictators and constant state of rebellion by oceans coupled with the prosperity and general state of domestic peace some how made American soil immune from almost any kind of attack.
I wasn't afraid, I don't recall fear ever really entering my mind. Despite how close New York felt in that moment, being on the 2nd floor of a 10 story dormitory in Iowa did allow my some sense of separation still. That myself, my family, and my friends were still safe. Perhaps that was just a reaction, as any attempt I made to put myself in the shoes of those people we saw covered in ash and running away from clouds of dust was met with an overwhelming sense of helplessness and fear. I had to take the role of spectator watching from a safe distance, allowing my mind to go anywhere else was too terrifying.
In the days and weeks to come, as we began to learn more about the motivations and identified some of the suspected masterminds I remember thinking how bold we were being as a nation. It seemed like such a petty way for a war to be declared against the United States, but unmistakenly, it was a war that had been declared.
I still struggle many days with what misguided ideals motivated those men who flew the planes. I have little doubt that they in some way had been affected by an action the U.S. perpetrated in the region at some point. That there was some aspect of them that felt victimized that opened the door for the line of logic that led them to believe such an unorthodox attack against so many civilians was justified. These deep reflections play a huge part in how my political thinking was shaped at the time.
Trying to grapple with how we dither in matters on the other side of the world while still being appalled when they dither in ours. Trying to justify launching missiles at them while being appalled when they crash planes into us.
No line of logic can perfectly justify either sides actions at any specific point over the past several decades. And we can look back for a long time at the list of mistakes we made that helped bring this moment along. Yet there is a singular guiding principle that is evoked in almost any conflict in human history, and that is, once war has been waged, each person must call upon their insight and perspicacity and envision a world in which they win, and one in which the opposition win.
We are not perfect, and perhaps we do meddle in the affairs of other too often. We strive for virtues such as freedom and liberty, yet often find ourselves wanting. This is ok, much like a child who will err from time to time so will we as a people make poor judgments, but as long as we hold those guiding principles true, that man kind's ultimate potential is realized when we have freedom, then I will always feel that our cause is just when faced against a cause that believes in a religious central state that justifies genocide.There are many innocents that will die in this war, as there always seem to be. And we will question our methods and our means throughout as any rational person would do. The most important lesson that I can take away from that September morning thirteen years ago is to remember try again to place myself in the shoes of those who lost their sense of safety and security. To remember those on Flight 93 and their bravery. And to take a moment and close your eyes, and think about those two different worlds. One were we win, and one were they win, and to use those images to strengthen our resolve.
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