Remembering September Eleventh

Eleven years ago I was in college when I was told that the towers were down. I had been in class all morning reading Walt Whitman's Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, and had no idea what was happening in my home city by the real Brooklyn Ferry. After I was told to return to my dorm and "deal with whatever [I] have to deal with", I called my parents and IMed my friends. I then watched the news for hours and hours before my eyes glazed over and I realized that I wasn't actually seeing anything. I switched the channel to PBS and watched the following clip from Sesame Street:

As was the morning's poem, this short clip of children's television seemed to perfectly suit the tragic and catastrophic events of the bright and crisp late summer day. The beauty of the New York skyline, and the simple idea that no matter what shape you are, you're still a shape, are the two images that continue to surface in my brain every September 11th. I love my city and its people. I hope that as each year passes, we always remember the terrible events of that blue-skied day, and strive to come together as a community, like we did that morning, even without the threat of terrorism.

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