I was raised by parents who were," legal aliens." Think about that term for a second... aliens? Couldn't we have used a better word? Strange termininology, but they were technically not from here. They came here from Ireland when they were pregnant with me. My sister although born in London became an american and my brother and I having been born here, chose US citizenship over duel citizenship as well. Growing up, my parents relentlessly reminded us of how lucky we were to be Americans. I have been blessed to always have an awareness of how fortunate our country is for the freedoms and things we have. However, nothing made more of an impact on my citizenship as 9/11/01. I can't believe it has been eleven years. I was a junior in college. I remember waking up to the first tower falling on TV. My roommates and I sat in silence and watched. One of my roommates had an aunt who worked in the second tower and as we watched it fall... no words could be said. I remember thinking," should I still go to class?"
I decided to go... my school being probably 40% new yorkers... campus was empty. I walked into class and there was one other student there who seemed very confused and unaware of what had happened. My teacher walked in appearing disheveled. She did not look up to see how many students there were nor did she acknowledge what had happened this morning. She simply, started teaching. I couldn't believe it. We were going to have class today? Really? As she started.... she suddenly paused, looked up and said," my son is in that tower... today we will not let those terrorists defeat us... we are going to learn poetry." And there it was.
I will never forget the new feeling of fear. I had never thought about being scared for our country. I had never had to worry about wars, fightings or death. I was blessed. My parents had not been so lucky. Living in Northern Ireland they grew up with civil war surrounding them. My mother's home had been burned down for having been located in a catholic neighborhood. My moms' cousin was killed while attempting to make a bomb for the IRA. Their bags were checked for bombs before entering stores. Curbs were painted according to the side you stood for. Murals can be seen on building all over Northern Ireland depciting thes civil war. It was/is very much alive. They came here to escape that. I often wonder what my mom must have felt watching the towers. Did she think, Really? Here? I know I did.
I thought the USA was indestructible. For the first time, I felt fragile and nervous. I remember thinking what city is next? Is our whole country going down? It was terrifying. The thing about life that often annoys me is that we forget those feelings. Our lives go on. We forget. We move on. It is the way life works. However, if we could remember more often where we once were... I think we would behave differently. We would be more grateful, thoughtful and kind. We would hug and kiss each other more. We would thank people like the police, firefighters and all the helping professions instead of cutting their jobs during tax time. We would think of and talk to God more often. We would thank him for all he has done each day. Today, I want to remember .
I was raised by parents who were," legal aliens." Think about that term for a second... aliens? Couldn't we have used a better word? Strange termininology, but they were technically not from here. They came here from Ireland when they were pregnant with me. My sister although born in London became an american and my brother and I having been born here, chose US citizenship over duel citizenship as well. Growing up, my parents relentlessly reminded us of how lucky we were to be Americans. I have been blessed to always have an awareness of how fortunate our country is for the freedoms and things we have. However, nothing made more of an impact on my citizenship as 9/11/01. I can't believe it has been eleven years. I was a junior in college. I remember waking up to the first tower falling on TV. My roommates and I sat in silence and watched. One of my roommates had an aunt who worked in the second tower and as we watched it fall... no words could be said. I remember thinking," should I still go to class?" 
It has always been the little stuff that gets to me. A little conversation, a little hug or hand hold, a note sent from a friend on my birthday... nothing big, but it's the little things that mean so much. I had one of those moments this week with Jake. We were walking into Nikki's pool club and the sky was just amazing. I am a lover of weather and clouds. Many of you are aware of my nerd tendencies, but I'm a huge science nerd... like took genetics for fun in college kind of nerd. Anyway, as I was looking up I said to Jake, "Look at the sky buddy. How amazing are the clouds? They don't even look real. Those are cumulus clouds. How do you think God made such an amazing sky? Do you think he used a paintbrush?" He looked at me with this very mature "come on mom... you should know better," look. Then, he said," It's because he has special powers." I said," That's very true Jake.. very true." And in typical four year old fashion... the converstion was over. It was a little conversation. Nothing deep or fancy, but it meant so much to me. My little boy stopped me in my tracks with his matter of fact faith. I hope he always maintains it and that long after I am gone... he will look at the sky and be amazed.
