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I was in the seventh grade in Oregon. I remember my mom waking me up as the first plane was hitting because she was pretty sure some poo poo was going down and she wanted me to not sleep through history. By the time the second plane hit I was already in class and the teachers were trying desperately to have a normal day and pretend like nothing was up, but it didn't work at all. This was before everyone had access to the news in their pockets at all times, of course, but we had enough kids with pocket radios and enough computers in classrooms that word got out pretty quick and some teachers just gave up and put the news on. I think that was the right thing to do. As confusing and terrifying as it was, I'd be pretty offended to this day if they'd totally kept it from me and I ended up missing the biggest news day of my life. The next week was kind of a blur. I was too young to really grok what was going on, the world was suddenly much larger and much more dangerous than it was days before. Older folks talk about Kennedy being the loss of their national innocence, and I know this isn't a new sentiment at all, but that was ours and I see what they mean. I'd never before had to think of my country as more than a flag and a thing to write on a letter to a pen pal, so poo poo got weird for a while there. Real Mean Queen fucked around with this message at 06:02 on Oct 12, 2015 |
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Oct 12, 2015 05:57
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| # ¿ May 17, 2024 13:38 |
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