Eight Years Ago

The first time I had heard the name "Osama bin Laden" was Sept 10, 2001.

My creative writing teacher said she dreamed about him recently, including the night before. She was an old lady who was very spiritual and always laying down some wisdom for us. We talked about him for a good part of the class before she gave us our assignment: Journal writing.

Reading the journal now reflects how my viewpoint on the world changed in just two days. On Monday, I struggled for things to write about, talking about mundane topics like what my friends are doing and how I can't think of anything to write. Tuesday, I had no shortage of things to say.

I was so angry. I thought it was a joke at first.

There were five of us living in that two bedroom apartment with no furniture. I had my own room, where I slept on the floor. Three more slept in the living room, one more in the other bedroom. We had a futon in the living room that we drove across Jackson, MS, holding it onto the roof of my car through the sunroof and we had a television with no cable. In another week and some change, we'd all be homeless. But on this day, my own situation in life didn't seem to matter.

I don't remember what time it was (probably 9 or something, CST). I had gotten up and was headed to the living room when I encountered Shundra, who had just come into the apartment and was headed into Mike's room. She told me a plane had hit the World Trade Center.

Like I said, I thought it was a joke. Mike was full of jokes, all the time, and so I figured that this was something they'd come up with in the car on their way back here. So I laughed it off like a joke and went into the living room, where Mike had just come through the door. He repeated what Shundra said. "You're joking, right?" I said. Mike looked at me and said, "No, I'm serious." I looked at Shundra and said, "He's joking, right?" She said, "Nope." I laughed and didn't think anything of it. Mike said, "Alright, Thad." That was his way of saying that he wasn't gonna try to convince me, and with that, he walked out of the room.

When he did that, I knew that he was telling the truth, but I figured that it was something like the Corey Lidle situation sometime later, where a guy accidentally flew a small plane into a building. Not a huge deal. And their reactions didn't exactly express to me that this was something of deadly importance. It was more like, "Dude, you're never gonna believe what happened!" So I sat down on the floor, and looked at the TV. I don't remember if it was on or not and I don't remember who was there. All I remember is watching video of planes hitting buildings for the next two or three hours.

And I remember being angry. We're Americans. I always believed that no one would be stupid enough to bring the fight to our front steps. Yet, here we were, watching an irreplaceable part of the most recognizable skyline in the world collapse into rubble. Our people were screaming in the streets, running through giant clouds of dust, jumping out of buildings, walking from Manhattan to Brooklyn. Just plain insanity. When they showed how the attack happened, with almost no one getting video of the first plane, but the world watching when the second plane hit, I thought to myself that the execution was brilliant. It was like one of those movie villains planned this out, where everything has to happen with clockwork precision.

No one spoke. What was there to say? We were afraid that this was it. That the world was about to end. That the Doomsday Clock was about to strike 12. And it wasn't like we were able to reflect on things just yet. We didn't really know that it wasn't a nation attacking us, but a terrorist group. And this was before we thought about America's foreign policy history. It wasn't until days later that politics were even brought up. This is before Saddam's name was brought into it or Fahrenheit 9/11 told us how Bush snuck his bin Laden friends out of America. This was before conspiracy theories and whether or not Bush knew it was coming. Hell, we didn't even know whether or not it was over. Some really believed that maybe they'd strike the sprawling metropolis called Jackson, MS. That abandoned hotel downtown would go up right nice.

We loaded up my car and went over to Jackson State's campus, where we all attended school. Some of us had class that day, but we weren't gonna go. Good thing the school canceled class after the attack. For the rest of the day, students just wandered around campus and talked about what we had seen, considering our futures. I thought about people I knew in New York and how I couldn't call them, so I sent emails, hoping that they were alright and they'd get back to me soon. I thought about people I knew in the military and what would happen to them. I thought about the draft coming back and how we'd be invading Afghanistan soon, because that's where Osama bin Laden was. He was the guy CNN said set this up.

I was scared and didn't want to go fight World War III, but it was inevitable and I wouldn't run to Canada or try to get out of it. If I died, at least I knew it would be for something I actually believed in: Destroying Afghanistan.

Later that day, I sat down in the library and wrote in my journal. When I read it now, it's almost funny how little I knew about the world. But they were faceless terrorists who deserved to die in my mind. Eight years later, people still view people in the Middle East like that. I feel like I know better. After all, America isn't perfect and it does make mistakes. And sometimes, those mistakes have consequences. I believe that 9/11 was one of them. When I had time to really think about what would happen, I had hoped that this would change America for the better. Of course, we'd be invading Afghanistan, but I don't think anyone would see the course that we've taken coming.

There is more hate, anger, and fear in America than ever before and the last time we were truly united as a people was on September 11, 2001. Before it became a political tool or a graphic for the cable news stations, it was a real day when thousands died. There was no "us and them." No Democrats or Republicans. No black or white. "Patriotism" hadn't yet become swallowed whole by "politics." We were all just Americans and it's sad that something like that had to happen for us to come together like that. It would be nice if we could do it again without having to suffer any bloodshed or violent property damage.