I took the day off from work today. Not because of the date, but for other reasons. Serendipitously, my 15-year-old, the youngest child, asked me to walk her to school today, instead of being driven. We’re about a mile and a half from her school, as the crow flies.
So, I put on my shoes and we headed down the beautiful greenbelt which is a highlight in the Pocket-Greenhaven community where I live. Someone, god bless them, had the foresight to plant a tree lined grass trail with pedestrian bridges and canal views throughout this space. It’s a pretty space in an increasingly un-pretty city.
We talked about a number of things, my teen leading the conversation and asking questions. She’s inquisitive and bright, and in a US History class, so naturally, today’s significance was noted.
“Do you remember 9/11?” She asks, as we plod down the trail to school.
“Of course,” I reply. “I remember exactly where I was. My dad called us on the landline and told me to turn on the TV.”
I pause, seeing the screen in my mind.
“The first tower had been hit. I was watching when the second tower got hit. The plane went right into it. And then it all went down. It was something I never imagined I’d see.”
Her oldest sister was in kindergarten that year, at a school near the California capitol. We lived a few blocks from the government center, closer to a federal building and the Capitol Mall. We kept the kindergartner home from school. Just in case. The situation was evolving.
We talk more about the other planes. The plane that was heading towards California, the one that went down in a field, thanks to the actions of a few brave people, one of whom said “Let’s roll.” And they did.
We talk about the Pentagon, long associated with America’s military might, and how it was hit.
“I saw the Pentagon for the first time in person this year. I had no idea how close it was to other critical infrastructure. It makes it even more disturbing now, to know.”
We continue forward, as we reflect on the tragedy of that day and how it is my generation’s Pearl Harbor.
“There’s a popular meme, though,” I say, watching her face pique with interest, as she turns to me.
It says “I wish we were the country we were on 9/12/01.”
“Why?”
Because we came together as a country. We all had watched the events with horror. We didn’t know yet if we were going to go to war. 9/11 was horrible and sad, but 9/12 and the days following were emotional and focused. We had hope as they cleared rubble, and grieved. We grieved together. The message that came out of that day was simple.
United we stand.
More recent days have been divisive. Groups have splintered. Politics have destroyed communities and families. A friend recently posted about the country being ‘troubled.’ What is most troubling, perhaps, is that we’ve forgotten how fortunate we are to live in such a place. A place where people are still dying to enter, with or without papers. A country that still has opportunities and spaces safe enough to raise families. What’s troubling is how entitled and dismissive we have become.
We arrive at the school and the flag is flying half-mast. I point it out.
“Seems fitting. The right thing to do,” my kid says, before hugging me goodbye and entering the school grounds.
It does. It is fitting, today, to fly the flag. To fly it at half-mast. To note the loss, to note the many years that follow. It’s Patriot Day.
I count the flags on my way home, more than usual, boldly flying in the September sun here. The day will be hot, another scorcher after record-breaking heat this week.
It’s Patriot Day. We remember. I remember. I’m still a patriot, after everything.
United we stand.
The Bear View 
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