10 years since 9/11

It's hard to believe it's already been 10 years. I still remember where I was when I found out. I was in the S building at Reseda High School, and it was my senior year. My dad and I had just arrived at school and Vicki Arnold told us to come in her class room where she told us about the World Trade Center. We turned on the TV and watched the devastation. I don't think it really hit me that morning. I'm not sure it's ever fully hit me. I think 9/11 has unfolded itself to me over time as I hear the individual stories that have been told over the past ten years. Tonight I watched a two hour documentary in honor of the ten year anniversary, and it flooded me with memories of that day, but it also told me new stories of men and women who died who I had never heard of before.

I remember when I went to Germany, to Dachau's concentration camp, in the summer of 2005. I had been overwhelmed by the tragedy of the holocaust, but it was hard to make meaning of the loss. At Dachau, more than 33,000 people had died of malnutrition or flat out murder. What does 33,000 mean? It's hard to quantify the value of human life. Not without a face, a name, and a story.

But then a week later I was in Amsterdam visiting Anne Frank's house, looking at the board game which she described in her diary. The game she played with the young boy who also shared the attic with her and her family. And I was looking at this board game, thinking about how I read HER words when I was in 8th grade. That's when I "got" it. That's when the tears came. That's when I knew what the value of a single human life was. When I had a name, a face, a story, a memory. Anne Frank was a part of my own life when I read her diary many years ago.

And today, I found a single story to share with my students. A man named John Viggiano who lost both of his sons on 9/11. One of his sons was a fireman and the other a policeman. They both died trying to save other people. He spoke about his sons for a few minutes and I had the kids listen. My students are only 13. They were 3 when this tragedy happened, and I don't think they really "get it." But you know what? They "get" a father's love. They understand the pain in that man's voice when he described his last conversations with each of his sons.

So for John Viggiano and his family, I dedicate this post. Because I can't begin to comprehend the loss of 3,000 lives. But I can understand the loss of two.

So on Sunday, I know I will remember. I will remember standing in that hallway when I was 17 years old. I will remember watching the trade center collapse and I will remember moments over the past 10 years like when I saw United 93 in the movie theaters or when I saw an interview about a woman who talked about her husband who helped take that plane away from the hijackers. And I'll remember the Viggiano family. And I'll pray something like this never happens again even though I think we all know that as long as there is life on earth there will be evil and atrocity. I hope, however, that there will be more goodness and virtue to defeat the evil which we know will always be with us.