Living in Los Angeles, you pick up on the noise that this city makes. Traffic; cars honking at each other, drivers cursing each other out on the freeway. The sirens of police cars, firefighter trucks, and paramedics echoing in to your bedroom through the window. The bass of music thumping in the streets, at times giving the street a rhythm, like heartbeat. After 9/11 tragedy, I come to appreciate the music and sounds that make Los Angeles this city of noise, a precious thing.
On that Tuesday morning, I was not aware of what had happened in New York, but the quiet air foreshadowed it to be an awkward day. I waited outside my house for my aunt and my cousins to pick me up for school, it was really quiet, you can only hear the cars passing through on the 710 freeway. Around 7:00 am my aunt pulled up to the house and I jumped in, I looked at each one of their faces and they were all tuned in to the radio. “This is Big Boy in the morning, if your just tuning in, not a good day in the neighborhood yall’... New York City is under attack, a plane crashed through the North tower of the World Trade Center...”. At first I didn’t know what the World Trade Center was, I knew we had one in Los Angeles and the other in Long Beach, I didn’t understand why it was so important. My aunt changed the station, but each station was already broadcasting CNN.
There was traffic on the street on the way to school, there was an inexplicable silence. It was quiet enough to hear the engines of each car in the street, I could hear the brakes of each car when the light turned red, and this small sea of cars we’re all tuned in to the radio; listening. When we reach the school I noticed most of the other students were whispering to one another, quietly walking inside.
First period set the mood for that entire day, and the rest of the week; every class had the television on, each channel was broadcasting the attack. Nutrition and Lunch went the same way, people telling small jokes to ease off the mood, whispering to one another, “Who could off done this,’ ‘conspiracy theories’, Bush planned this,’ ‘the devil at work.’” Second period came and we watched the second plane hit the South Tower of the World Trade Center, when the plane hit the building the classroom was quiet. I heard a few students step outside to the hallway to cry, the reporter that was on the scene was screaming “Oh My God! Oh My God! A plane just hit the South Tower! People are still evacuating!”. I stepped outside to go to the restroom, then I wandered around campus. Everything is quiet. The sky that was filled with the echoing of planes was slowly disappearing. I noticed a teacher walking out of the Science building franticly, I don’t remember who he was, I followed him to the faculty parking lot watched him from a distance, he got in his car. The man took off his glasses, put his head on the steering wheel and began to cry. I walked back to class, no one really noticed that I was gone for so long, everyone still tuned in to the television. A teacher walked in to speak with our teacher, she said “the Pentagon was hit”, later CNN confirmed it.
After witnessing the attack and the collapse of the World Trade Center, my mind was exhausted I didn’t know what to think. By the time the bell rang to go home, I noticed the large amounts of cars waiting outside the school, parents eager to get their children home. My mom didn’t drive, so I walked. I went down Southern Ave, like I always do and I couldn’t help but notice the silence in the sky. Not a plane in sight nor a helicopter hovering over the city. As I reached South Gate Park I cut through it, and all I could hear is the whispering of the wind through the trees, no one in the playgrounds, no one on their daily jog, just the silence and the leaves.
As I got closer to my house I noticed my mom outside waiting for me, this relief came upon her face when she saw me walking to her. My dad wasn’t home yet, he was in Tijuana helping out a cousin of his. As the sun kept setting and the sky got darker my mother began to worry, she had not heard of my dad. “He should have been here hours ago” she kept telling herself, then she grabbed her rosary and prayed to the Virgin de Guadalupe. My uncle came over after work, he talked to my mom and I over heard the conversation. “Meche, the freeways were empty, when I was driving down, I saw downtown and it gave me the chills, when the sun hit the buildings they looked like there were on fire. I'm just glad I got home...” It got late, and I couldn’t sleep, this ugly silence wasn’t letting any of us sleep. My mom was in the living room still praying. The phone rang my mom picked up, she exhaled he worries in one breath. My dad was on the other line, he said he was in Victorville and was on his way home. My dad said he watched the new in Tijuana and everyone was tuned in as well and he knew he had to get home. He was the last one to cross the border into San Diego, and everyone else had to wait for the Border to reopen again when everything was cleared. He came home late that night, my parents hugged each other and were overwhelmed with what went on today.
Since the tragedy in 9/11, Patriotism was promoted everywhere “Never Forget” “United we Stand”, flags everywhere like it was Fourth of July. I didn’t feel very Patriotic, I was more confused. People were scared and in mourning. It saddens me more because of some “extreme patriots” attacked Mosques and anyone that looked Arabic, was this the sign of Patriotism? I was 15 years old when this happened and I couldn’t grasp of the heaviness of this tragedy. Now I look back it and I feel that eery chill of what could had happened, and what still could happened. Not being able to say I love you to the person you care about, or goodbye.
Now that I am older, I understand what responsibility is and why only few carry it well. I Think about my parents, my siblings, my cousins, my aunts & uncles, grandparents, my friends and I get this ugly feeling when I think about death. Did I leave in good terms, when was the last time I spoke to this person, I wanted to tell her, if I had more time? Questioning myself; was I a good son, a good friend, a good brother? I look back at this now and I know I have time to set things right. I know I can’t make everyone happy, but its worth a try.
Think about the victims, what was going through their minds? They weren’t trying to live to see another day, they were trying to live to hug that person, kiss their family, hold their baby, thank their friends.
I don’t believe that Patriotism is demonstrated of how much you care about this country. I believe that Patriotism is demonstrated on how humble you are to others, to respect and love one another, and appreciate those who protect our rights. People don’t die for this country, they die to keep the purity of freedom, your freedom. The Flag is important to us because freedom is what it represents, maybe not to others but some of us it still is. So be thankful, be humble. Peace.
