Where Were You?

I was curling my hair in our rubber duck-decorated bathroom.


My grandpa saved that now 15-year-old journal entry I wrote the day after September 11, 2001. I don’t need to reread it to relive that day. Like many Americans, I can close my eyes and recall each horrific moment. Like many Americans, I will Never Forget.

It’s not hard for me to believe all the pain that still exists today, 15 years after the terrorist attacks. What is hard to believe is that for the first time ever, high school freshmen are learning about September 11th in history books — because they were not yet born, and thus didn’t live through it like so many of us did. High school freshmen are just about the age that I was when it happened, and many couldn’t tell you how many planes went down that day, how many people died. We did a story on it at work, and you’d be shocked how many of the kids we interviewed didn’t even know who was responsible for carrying out the attacks.

I’m not judging; History wasn’t exactly my forte in high school either. I guess it just astonishes me that September 11th is in fact history.

Be that as it may, I promises to never, ever forget.


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