Some welcome to America
Nearly everyone 21 and older has a 9/11 story. Some lost friends or family in the tragedy. Some were stranded in travel. Some remember watching it on TV with strangers. Others remember the pandemonium in their schools. For years, on Sept. 11, I asked my composition students to reflect in writing on their memories and experiences. I never did the same myself although I’ve told my story several times. For this 15th remembrance of the horrors of 9/11, I decided it was time for me to do my own assignment.
The 9/11 Memorial at Shanksville, PA, is appropriately somber on a visit this June / Photo by Deborah Lynch
Fifteen years and one day ago, my family and I rescued a 17-year-old Swedish girl from Bible thumping, tabasco sauce threatening Oklahomans after getting an exploratory call from our first Swedish exchange student, Ida, who was her friend back in Stockholm. Ida began with pleasantries, then a probe to see if we had ever considered taking another exchange student. Our hesitant “maybe in the future,” led to her excited, “Well, what about now.” She proceeded to explain the predicament of her friend, Frida, who had paid the exchange program extra to be placed in California, then found herself shuttled among unprepared and unaccommodating families in Oklahoma. She had called home crying with plans to return home, but first called Ida to ask for her advice since she had been an exchange student two years previously.That connection led Frida to us, but first I had to check with our high school principal about whether the school would accept her. He said they would, but it had to be by the following Tuesday, Sept. 11, because it was already two weeks into the school year. Next, I contacted the student exchange program coordinator in Oklahoma to let her know that I would take Frida (we had already been vetted by the program before we hosted Ida), but that I needed her to be put on a plane to Harrisburg immediately. The woman hemmed and hawed and told me how difficult it would be for her or the exchange family to get Frida to the airport in Oklahoma City. I didn’t accept no for an answer. Finally, she agreed she could do it.Frida arrived at Baltimore-Washington International in the evening of Sept. 10, 2001, looking shell-shocked and scared. Her blonde ponytail and cute pink jacket made her easily identifiable as she came through the door to the gate. She was quiet on the hour-and-a-half car ride back to Hershey. I asked a few questions, but mostly tried to let her relax, knowing that experiences in Oklahoma -- in which the one family said only Christian radio was allowed and that if she disobeyed, she would be lined up against the wall like their own children and tabasco sauce would be put on her tongue -- had left her apprehensive of the American experience.
Frida in a 2011 photo taken from her Facebook page
The next morning, we all got ready early. I got my kids off to elementary school, and then drove Frida to register her for high school before work. We were in the guidance counselor’s office selecting her classes when the halls seemed to buzz with commotion. As we left his office, we saw teachers in the halls, whispering to one another, ducking into the library and offices to watch TV. I saw a teacher friend, Michelle, who rushed over to me to tell me in a fearful voice that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Not sure what to think, I had to send Frida on her way to class with a quick hug.I got in my car and drove to work with the radio on. I heard the electrified reports describing a second plane hitting the twin towers. What was happening? I clocked in at my customer service job at Barnes & Noble, which coupled well with grad school and the daily drive for my 8-year-old’s private school near the bookstore. No one came into the store. It was an eerie quiet. My colleagues and I felt unsettled. Finally, the manager said we should close the store and go home. As I left the store and began driving to my daughter’s school, I was hyper aware of everything around me. The clear, clear blue sky devoid of any airplanes looked innocent and still. It felt quiet. Too quiet. It seemed surreal.I stopped to pick my daughter up from school just past noon. We drove home, and soon Hershey schools dismissed. Michelle and her 8-year-old daughter came over. The six of us sat mesmerized in my family room watching replays of the planes hitting the towers over and over, listening to President Bush speak about what had happened after he had been interrupted while reading to elementary school children in Florida. We were scared. Frida was even more afraid.She had arrived less than 24 hours earlier, frightened and uncertain. The events of this day only made her more fearful. I suggested she call her family to let them know she was OK, because Three Mile Island, less than 10 miles from us, had been suggested as a terrorist target. Her family was relieved to hear she was OK, especially since to someone in Sweden, Hershey seemed like it was next-door to New York and Washington. When the plane went down outside Pittsburgh in Shanksville, PA, they worried even more.My brother-in-law is an American Airlines pilot. We were relieved when we learned he wasn’t traveling that day. Unfortunately, Michelle soon learned that her brother-in-law’s brother was flying for United Airlines and that he had been the pilot of the flight from Boston that had been diverted into the World Trade Center. A former Hershey High School sports star, friend to many in our community, and former Marines pilot, Michael Horrocks perished that day.
Unveiling of the Michael Horrocks Memorial in Hershey, PA, on Sept. 11, 2011 / Pennlive.com photo by Chris Knight
My kids were 8 and 9 on that day. My son turned 10 two days later with a subdued birthday celebration. Frida’s introduction to America was fraught with scary people and events. Fortunately, she gradually began to feel comfortable in our family as America, too, pulled together in support for one another and with a patriotism we hadn’t experienced in the recent past. She had a wonderful year in Hershey.The events of 9/11 and response that followed meant sacrifice for many people in many countries. My husband was twice called up to active duty – for three-to-four months each time -- with the Army Reserves during the next six years. My kids got extra counseling at school that was offered to the children of all people with someone serving extended duties in the military. We were among the fortunate since my husband just backfilled for those who went to Iraq and Afghanistan. We didn’t have to fear for his safety.I don’t think I will ever look at the world with the same naivety that I once had. I know that peace is a fleeting notion. I worry about the future of the world for my children. Sept. 11, 2001, stole innocence from us all. Frida, I’m sorry that my memory of your arrival will always be intertwined with my memory of 9/11, but you were the bright memory from that day. Having you as part of our family forever fills us with hope and happiness.