Balancing Evil

Eight years ago, the world stood still as the planet stared transfixed as the images of jumbo jets flying into the World Trade center played over and over and over on every TV in the nation. I still remember where I was that awful day as the worst attack on our nation’s soil since Pearl Harbor played out. I know it’s a cliche to say that we lost our innocence that day, but I felt as if my heart and soul had been ripped out as I realized that terror could come to our doorstep.

That day and the weeks that followed were filled with heartbreaking moments:

• The photos of doctors and nurses waiting outside hospitals for patients who would never come because there were few survivors.
• The walls of photos of family members putting up pleas for information on loved ones who would never come home.
• The rescue dogs who couldn’t find anyone to rescue.
• The sight of people jumping out of buildings because the alternative was to burn alive.
• The sight of firefighters rushing up the stairs when everyone else was rushing down.

However, even in those darkest moments, there was overwhelming evidence that for every act of evil there are moments where the goodness of humanity shines through. There was evidence in the smallest gesture that we as a nation were still a nation of heros, still a nation of people who cared, still a nation full of people who were and are “Proud to be an American.”

In the hours after the horror, firefighters drove hours from around the country to pull shifts in the pit that was Ground Zero. They worked around the clock in dirty, grimy, and dangerous conditions hoping against hope that they’d be able to pull out survivors. Rescue dogs and their handlers descended on the site in hopes of finding life.

Ordinary people who weren’t allowed into Ground Zero passed out sandwiches and water to the rescue workers and held up signs to let them know that their efforts and sacrifices were appreciated. Thousands attended memorial services for the grief of one was the grief of all.

The story of Flight 93 gave us all heroes and hope for these were ordinary citizens who had a choice: they could go quietly to their deaths or they could fight back and maybe save others from becoming victims of hate. They chose to fight and in doing so etched their story in the annals of history. They gave us hope in that terrible time when everything seemed wrong with the world and when we, as Americans, were hated simply for having been born in America.

The days after 9/11 were filled with horror, with hope, and with patriotism. I never felt more fully an American than on the Friday after 9/11 when I stood outside with my family, lit candles and sang the Star Spangled Banner. As we stood together outside, we saw the first planes flying out of O’Hare and we knew America would recover.

Two years ago, my family traveled to the field in Pennsylvania where Flight 93 flew nose first into the rich dark soil and 4o innocents lost their lives. Humans are comforted by memorials and in the absence of formal statues and shrines, we visit the places where tragedies have occurred and leave tokens of remembrance. It was dark the first time we saw the Flight 93 memorial and the cool evening air seemed tinged in sorrow as we looked at the hundreds of tokens people around the world had left in memory of the greatness of ordinary citizens.

Eight years doesn’t change the awful events of September 11, 2001, but the evil that destroyed our innocence has been balanced out by the heroics of those who chose to make their last few minutes on earth matter and by those who stepped forward to help heal the wounds.