muninsong | some personal September 11th thoughts

hero

he‧ro –noun, plural -roes; for 5 also -ros.

1. a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.
2. a person who, in the opinion of others, has heroic qualities or has performed a heroic act and is regarded as a model or ideal: He was a local hero when he saved the drowning child.
3. the principal male character in a story, play, film, etc.

Hero is a word that is often overused. You hear it every day, in so many ways that the meaning has become tarnished. You hear it to describe brilliance in the medical field, or sports stars that are paid more per game than the average American in a year. That's fine, but what people don't realize is that these people are doing their jobs. This is a good thing, but I don't see them as heroes. The same thing with teachers. They do an amazing thing for our future, but I've seen so very many that are so burned out and lacking that there's no way I could ever think of any teacher as a hero.

Five years ago, someone I knew went to work in the north tower of the WTC. He was a good man, but no hero. He just went to work daily to make ends meet. He had an apartment and the normal bills to pay.

Just like the firemen that were working that morning. They had families and lives and dreams for the future. They were doing their jobs.

Just like the police officers, as well. All the same.

They were all doing their jobs.

Then, the world changed.

My friend wasn't a hero when he died. They say he had no idea what had happened, because he was in one of the floors hit by the plane some nutjobs decided would make a good bomb.

No, the heroes that day were the ones that went into the fire; into the unknown, to try and save him, even though hope was scarce for so many. They never gave up; not even when another plane hit the south tower. Even after the towers fell, the ones that survived were still digging, trying with desperate hope to find someone, anyone, alive.

They didn't have much luck, but they kept going.

The people in the Pentagon were busy that morning, too. Doing the jobs that keep the military running. Of course they were a target of some more nutjobs in a plane. It was just as horrifying, seeing the seat of our military power in flames.

There were heroes there as well, but they weren't as extolled as the heroes in NYC were. That's alright. A real hero doesn't need the praise.

There was a fourth group of heroes that day. Not soldiers, or firemen, or police officers. No, these were ordinary men and women that were thrust into a hopeless situation that morning and had no idea. They say the plane was bound for the White House. It never made it thanks to the heroes on that plane. Even though they knew they wouldn't make it, they still made sure the plane never made the target.

For a while after that horrible day, the country was united like I've never seem before. There was little mud-slinging from either side of the political game. Everyone bled red, white and blue.

It was amazing. It was inspiring. It was something I was proud to be a part of.

I miss it.

Now, we're divided again. I didn't expect it to last, really. There are too many lines to divide us in this country.

Now, the heroes are back to the sports stars that don't deserve it.

Some say we should 'forget that day'. They say, and I quote, "Alright, seriously, it's been five years, don't you think it's about time we started to forget about this "tragedy?" Constantly bringing it back up, every god damn time it comes around, isn't helping or solving anything." (and yes, that's an actual quote from someone on a comm I belong to).

They can forget if they want. That's their choice.

I choose to remember those that went to work that day. It doesn't matter if they ended up heroes or not, because they ALL deserve to be remembered.

When we forget, the terrorists win.