The Angry American

Flashbulb memories. I learned about them in Psychology last year. These are the types of memories that are photographic. The ones that you can picture what you were doing, where you were, who you were around, maybe what you were wearing, what you smelt but most importantly, what you saw.

This was one of those memories.

It was my first week at H.B. Lee Middle school. As a new sixth grader I was ready to face the challenges and adventures that middle school brought with it. Maybe this would mean I would meet new cute boys. I would FINALLY get to wear makeup and I chose classes that interested me, not that I was necessarily forced to take.

Because I was new to school, and although my middle school could be seen from almost every location in my house (aka, I walked to school with my sister and my best friend Rachel everyday during middle school. Even in the rain and snow), I insisted upon arriving to school fifteen or twenty minutes to socialize, put things in my awesome blue locker or settle into my seat and wait for Mr. Cosby’s homeroom class to begin.

This day was supposed to be like any other day. Rachel would meet us at our house and the three of us would walk to school together.

Little did we know this day would change America forever.

For today, was September 11, 2001.

I remember standing in my parent’s room next to TV. My dad was in the process of getting ready for work and my mom was sitting on their bed. I had heard their gasps of surprise shock and their hurried conversations and I knew something was wrong.

I looked at the television screen and saw the first tower of World Trade Center in New York City burning. The news stations kept repeating terrorists and a plane hitting the tower.

I remember standing there watching my parents faces but not fully grasping what was happening. I kept thinking to myself “c’mon Ali and Rachel, we have to go or we’ll be late.” Even then I was an overachiever of sorts.

But then I saw the second plane hit and both towers were smoldering, flames lapping at the air.

My parents made us leave for school.

While there, people were crying. Everyone was distracted. Parents were coming to pick their kids up and my classmates were complaining that they should not have to be in school that day.

We watched the towers collapse in class. We saw the people running with covered faces, people crying and bleeding in the streets, begging for help. We heard that a plane had hit the pentagon and another landed in a field somewhere. We heard that America had been attacked.

I was 11 years old.

Nine years later and this tragedy still affects the country deeply. It has led us to war. It has led us to, thank God, stricter measures taken at airports, and a stronger defense in our branches of military.

But what I love about America is that we stand up to opposition. We fight for the fallen. We fight for our freedom. And we don’t lie down and wait for people to roll over the top of us. We are strong nation. We may not always agree with decisions our government makes or injustices we witness, but we are a strong country. A strong FREE country.

Toby Keith sang a song after the tragedy of September 11 called the Angry American.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ruNrdmjcNTc

Some of the most memorable lyrics of this song read,

And you'll be sorry that you messed with
The U.S. of A.
'Cause we'll put a boot in your ass
It's the American way

So now I ask you...What were YOU doing on 9/11? What are your thoughts on Toby Keith's song?

Do you agree that freedom is not free?