Remembering 9/11

Everyone old enough to remember that terrible September day has a story. Mine is not the still raw grief-stricken account of those who lost family or friends, nor does it have the immediacy of stories told by eyewitnesses in New York, Washington or Shanksville. Still, the events of that day are seared into my brain.

It was a stunning morning in St. Paul, Minnesota, the kind of day that qualifies as a "top ten weather day". I was off work, and I was looking forward to spending time outdoors after dropping off my son and a classmate at St. Agnes School, where both were freshmen. I arrived a Nativity Church a little early for 8 AM  Mass. The pastor, Father (now Bishop) Peter Christensen was talking with  someone outside the church, but I couldn't resist announcing  I'd followed advice from his Sunday homily -- something like "have the confidence to try new things", and that morning I had parallel-parked my Dodge Grand Caravan in a tight space -- a new experience for me, as I usually chose a drive-in spot large enough to park a bus. Father Peter seemed preoccupied and I apologized for interrupting his conversation.

At Mass, Father Tom Margevicius announced from the pulpit that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I turned on the radio for the short ride home, where my husband was watching coverage of the disaster on TV. We spent much of the day in stunned silence, following the tragedy in real time. My son reported later that he had seen the news on TV in the waiting room at his dental appointment.

I have little recollection of work the next day. I know I told a colleague at the Minnesota Public Utilities Commission that I had had "become an American" the day before. A dual citizen of the United States and Canada, I had taken the oath of citizenship 15 years earlier, but had always considered my primary citizenship to be Canadian. On September 11, a glance at the clear blue sky told me that I was as American as any of my neighbors.

Since then, I've been fairly diligent in trying to learn and understand US history and culture. Always a political junkie, I'm now a student of all levels of government, with a particular interest in  the separation of powers. On this twentieth anniversary of 9/11, I mourn the divisions in our country but was encouraged as I listened to former President George W. Bush speak uplifting, hopeful words in Shanksville, Pennsylvania: "... Whenever we need hope and inspiration, we can look to the skies and remember." A perfect azure sky no longer fills me with pre-9/11 unrestrained joy, but I remember with gratitude and sadness that day and those whose lives ended in such horror.