S E P T E M B E R 1 1 t h 2 0 0 1
A tribute to 9/11

Today is the eighth anniversary of the September eleventh attacks on the United States.

I bet most of you reading this story all can say exactly where they were the time they heard about it either on the radio or on television. I was in second grade at that time. I remember a teacher's helper came into our classroom. It looked like she has been crying, we were all confused. She asked for my teacher to go out in the hall. When my teacher, Mrs. Steimle, came back in, she was clearly shocked. She wouldn't tell us what happened.

Throughout the day, students and my friends were being pulled out of school. I was so confused—no one told us what was going on.

Then around noon maybe, my mom came to get my sister and I out of school. When we got to our car, my brother was already sitting in the car. He was in middle school, so he didn't go to our school.

My mom didn't say anything on the way home. We usually took one of my best friends home, but she wasn't in the car. I asked my mom why she wasn't, but she just told me her mom picked her up early too.

I remember this so clearly. When we got home, my mom didn't say one word. She just led us over to the television and turned it on. I was confused, once again. I mean, come on. Parents are pulling kids out of school and we're all in the dark—so we come home and watch TV?

But then, the news came on. My sister asked what was going on but my mother pointed to the screen.

"Watch," she said quietly.

So we did.

I was only seven or eight at the time, so I really couldn't understand what was going on when I watched buildings on fire.

"Do you know what is going on?" my mom asked after a couple minutes.

My sister and I shook our heads, but my brother did know.

My mom came over to all of us and wrapped her arms around us. "We've been attacked, hurt. Our country is going through something horrible right now."

I remember her telling us exactly what was happening. She even told us why Emily—my friend that was supposed to be with us—wasn't in the car.

"Remember how Kathy," which is Emily's mother, "works in the big building downtown? The tallest one in Cleveland?" I remember when she said that, I was picturing the Key Tower in Downtown Cleveland. It was the tallest building I have ever seen. "A plane could have crashed into that building, honey. So Kathy was evacuated and she came to get Emily."

Flight 93 flew right over Cleveland. It turned around right over Cleveland. And we had no idea what was going on.

It's like that day was etched into my memory. Every time something about September eleventh is brought up, I think of all the pained faces I saw that day. On the news. On the streets. In my own house.

September Eleventh—now known as Patriot Day—is a day in which we will always remember. People died for their country, for their friends.

My uncle would have been one of the firefighters that went over to Manhattan—all the way from Cleveland, but he didn't have to. Firefighters, police men, paramedics, workers, and just your average citizen helped make that day better by going in there and risking their lives to get someone else. That is what I think is courage.

Those people who died that day deserve to be respected and remembered.

This is what this tribute is for.

So, to all those brave people who are not with us today, this is for you. Thank you.

Julia—September 11th, 2009.