I've been planning for a week to do a September 11 post, but wasn't sure which direction I wanted to take with it. Last night, I searched my hard drive to see what I've written about September 11 in the past. While I was going through some of my old pieces, I found some notes I had taken in one of my creative writing classes about the idea of "cultural memory." This phenomenon is perfect for a September 11 post with how it relates to history, American culture, and memory as a collective experience, not just an individual experience.
As I wrote this early this morning, I have cried three times. I hope that I can provoke your emotions and memory as I've done to my own. The point is that, even though sometimes the things we do as a nation can be maddening and frustrating and downright ridiculous-- I love this country so much, and I would like to think that you do, too. Through all the nonsense, the USA is the greatest nation on Earth. I love you, America.
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An Ever Changing Silence
Within the construct of this nation exists sites of cultural memory. There are memories of many mediums of settlers, of migrations, and of war. There are memories of battles of people groups and places that make up the history of the present. There are memories of why things are the way they are now because of what happened in the past. There are memories of greatness and lowliness--there are memories of change. And there are memories of the time the nation stood still, when the silence was deafening, and the heart of the nation was shaken.
There are memories of times that have left us ashamed, and there are timeless periods which capture the greatness of the nation. Amongst these, there are few unforgettable moments where the nation is brought to its knees; its citizens redefined by unexpected events. The people are momentarily uncertain about their reality, their reaction, and their future. And the silence that was deafening became a somber silence, and the heart of the nation was tested.
But the nation would never be silenced or let itself be defined by those who sought to silence it. The cultural memory of many sites before-- of those whose bravery, persistence, endeavor, and commitment to the nation to create a place free from fear, was brought to the minds of its citizens. Its citizens sought Justice, even though they were not even sure what she looked like yet. The nation would prepare for battle. And even though it was told the battle was righteous and justified, the silence that had become somber became a confusing silence. The heart of the nation bled.
Months and years and elections passed. The confusion became greater. The nation that was once united in its grief became divided because of it. There were those who made a mockery, there were those who took advantage, and yet still, there were those who chose to be passive and ignorant. The nation still bickers about matters great and small, it still allows that unexpected site of cultural memory to be part of its identity. That is who we are-- it is what we do. The confusing silence continued and the heart of the nation was transformed.
What the nation has been transformed to is still uncertain. That unexpected site of cultural memory is still too present, and hindsight has not lived long enough. Though it is believed that the heart of the nation was rebuilt, it is still a heart filled with anguish. So the nation goes through the days, hoping and praying and waiting for its full restoration. But on the day it remembers, the confusing silence becomes a courageous silence. And the heart of the nation, if only for the day, is strengthened.
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Please take a moment to listen to this photo documentary of photographers who had their cameras with them in New York City on September 11, 2001. Make sure your volume is turned up and that you have tissues.
