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Waiting For My Uncle: A Child's September 11 Story. For Karen Palumbo. by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Rated "PG" by the Author.
A young boy is worried about his uncle, a firefighter, who has gone to help people trapped in the ruins of what was once the World Trade Center Towers after terrorists struck on that unforgettable day.
*Always remember and never forget! I certainly won't! >tears!<*
I don't think I will ever forget the horrors of that day. Because of hatred, my uncle is dead, and there is nothing I can do to bring him back.
I was living in New York at the time, in the City. I lived there with my momma Haddessah, my daddy Georg, and my twin little brothers Georg, Jr. and Giovanni, who were only two at the time; they were too little to know of the terrible goings-on of that day (maybe it was a good thing??). My uncle Tito, one of "New York's Finest" (he was a firefighter) was due to visit us later; he was bringing us a lobster dinner.
But right now, he was at work, doing what he did best: fighting fires and saving lives.
I remember waking up to the sounds of crying. I was wondering in my sleepy haze what was going on; my momma came into my room, saying that there had been a terrible accident, that the World Trade Center towers had been hit by two planes (one plane hit each building) and were now on fire. There were dozens of rescue vehicles--ambulances, firetrucks, police cruisers--quickly headed to the scene; there was talk of the possibility of mass casualties and fatalities at the scene.
I didn't understand what she had meant at first; I thought it was a bad accident, nothing more. I was just a kid; I didn't know anything about terrorism or terrorists or their heinous beliefs to bring America to their knees because they hated our ideals. I wanted to believe that it was an accident, but from the way momma was crying, I knew it was something more--something altogether horrible.
I started crying when I saw the horrible images on television. The towers that I'd come to love were now ablaze, and there were people trapped. Some were jumping from the towers; I knew they weren't going to make it upon reaching the ground. Other people were probably burning up in the fire, and the thought of it sickened me.
I started thinking of Uncle Gio, wondering if he was helping the people get out. I was hoping that he would be okay, and I was already looking forward to later in the day, to when he would come over with the promised lobster dinner. I tried not to think too much about the World Trade Center towers (or the Pentagon in Washington DC; it was also on fire, and another plane had since crashed into a field in Pennsylvania), but each time I flopped the channels on the tv, that was all that was on, and the news only got worse at each report.
I soon learned that it was not an accident. It was a deliberate attack on America; it was intentional, and now there were hundreds, possibly thousands, dead or badly hurt. The airports were canceling all flights, and Washington DC, New York City, and other great American cities were on lockdown, meaning nobody could come or leave.
We were now at war. At war with an unseen enemy who wanted nothing more than to see the death/fall of America.
It wasn't until late that night when we got the call, the call that would change our lives forever. My uncle Giovanni Pastrelli had been found amidst all the rubble of the North Tower; they found his body about seven o'clock in the evening. At the news we all cried. We all loved Uncle Gio; we were crying because he was dead, we were crying because he died due to some bad people who had no regard for human life, and mostly we were crying because so many innocent people--men, women, children--had died, along with my uncle.
I was also crying because we never got to have that lobster dinner I was looking forward to.
It sounds silly now, but remember, I was just a kid then, no more than seven years old. Now I think of my uncle--not to mention, the events of that tragic day that changed our nation--no, our world--forever--, and I wonder if we are going to be attacked again. People keep saying there's a possibility that we may be attacked by terrorists again, and the next time it may be much worse. We are now at war, and it is a war that is quickly going nowhere fast. There appears to be no solution to the growing terrorist threat, and we are all feeling halpless as to how to stop it.
People are hating one another, there appears to be an apathy towards our nation's ideals or morals that shows no signs of abating, and people are blaming each other for the country's demise. It's as though our nation has become divided, and nobody seems willing to patch things up.
Meanwhile, I am dealing with the painful memory of that day--not to mention, the anniversary of Uncle Gio's death--, and I am wondering if I will ever be happy again. Ever since this happened nearly six years ago, I've slept little, my eating habits are poor--I've since become very fat; food is a comfort to me when I'm sad or depressed--, and I don't want to have anything to do with the news; I don't want to be reminded of September 11, 2001 all over again.
Once was more than enough; why keep slamming it into my head? I don't need any more nightmares, and I still have problems accepting why this had to happen in the first place, why my uncle had to die in the way he did, why so many other people had to die right along with him. I also have problems dealing with those thugs who did this heinous crime and wonder why nothing is being done to stop them.
That's probably the biggest problem I'm having right now.
I wish September 11, 2001 never happened; it didn't need to happen; people could have prevented it from happening!
*The End.*
*ALWAYS, ALWAYS REMEMBER and NEVER, EVER FORGET!* >tears!<
Yes, I finally found it and a fantastic write it is. You capture all of the termoil and emotional/physical horror of that morning, a morning etched into our memories whether we want it there or not. Love you lady and don't you ever forget that either....
A powerful offering my friend...I too shall never forget that day! A day that was as if we were living a night mare! I'll never forget where I was, when and how the word came to my room, the fear that engulfed all, the media, the panic, the tragedy, no forever will I proudly wave the red, white, and blue...God bless America!
Blessings,
Joyce B.
Another year, another anniversary, and the terrorists are roaming around because we insist to play by the rules with people that have no rules. They invoked "In the name of God the Merciful" and proclamed that "Allah is great" prostituing a great religion with their ungodly acts which maybe, will never raise from the deep sewer they had pushed their religion with their actions.
It is not a consolation to say that not all islamites are terrorist, but that majotiry are allowing the extremists to live in their midst.
We shouldn't be the ones to take out the bad weed it should be done by those proclaiming that Islam doesn't condone their actions.
If that were so, 9/11 wouldn't ever came to be.
Georg
Excellently portrayed. In just six more days, Sept. 11 arrives... Black smoke rising, bodies turned instantly into ash...Hatred, prejudice, bigotry, religious fraud, and homophobia runs rampant close by...bombings, censored writings, jealousies of humanity...the next generations have to live with the nightmares of hatred...ignorance and uneducated opinion need to wake up...communities are at the threshold and deliverance only comes to those who erase hatred, prejudice, bigotry, religious fraud, and homophobia...*ALWAYS, ALWAYS REMEMBER and NEVER, EVER FORGET!* Thanks for the story today, Karen Lynn...be well, you and Karla.
