One Girl, One Hero: A September 11 Story

I wrote this story last September 11.

September 11, 2008.

Seven years had gone by. Seven years since the day that changed our perception of our world—and our safety in it.

Still, some of my friends had memories too painful, too fresh, to read what I had written.

They sent me emails. One friend was supposed to be on one of the planes and still had grief—and guilt that he was spared.

Another couldn't talk about it, just one line about the Pentagon and black choking smoke.

I wanted to write a story of hope, of good over evil, but some weren't ready yet.

 

A September 11 Story—Retold

It was the day after the day.

September 12, 2001 was a Wednesday. I know because Wednesday was my mentoring day.

I swung into the parking lot of the elementary school not far from Seattle.

My friend was a smart, but troubled 8-year-old. I'll call her Bella. She was in the gifted class.

Bella loved to read. I brought her my old comics, like Little Lulu. She read them out loud and laughed hysterically at the strong, spunky Lulu. We made bracelets out of plastic jewelry and waved our hands at each other to see who could make the loudest clicking sound.

We played board games. Once she tried to teach me chess but she gave up. I could never figure out what move to make and she got tired of waiting. Sometimes Bella would come into the library, sit down and frown, arms crossed, swinging her legs. On those days, she didn't want to talk to anyone, not even me.

On this particular Wednesday, Bella was quiet. She sat down, took out the set of blocks and started building, her tongue sticking out in concentration.

"What are you making?" I said.

"Towers," she said, keeping her eyes on the blocks.

My heart did a flip. She continued adding blocks until she had two blue buildings, side by side. She gently pulled out blocks on each side, about three-quarters from the top of each tower, so there were perfectly square holes on all sides.

Then she did an astounding thing. She lifted a black crayon, holding it with the thumb and forefinger. She made it climb, turn, then slowly push through the empty space, from one side of the tower right through the other side and onto the library table.

"See?" she said.

"If they just would have made the towers this way, with holes in the sides, the plane could have gone right through. And no one would have been hurt. Why didn't they make them that way?"

She frowned.

I swallowed. I didn't have any words.

Bella punched the buildings with her fist. The blocks fell across the table and onto the floor. 

As the weeks went by, in my "Wednesdays with Bella," we talked more about the terrorist attacks. She asked why the firefighters had to go in those burning buildings. She wanted to know if any kids died.

I had to tell her the truth. I felt like she needed to know.

She said she never wanted to go on an airplane again. Then she walked out of the library, down the hall to her classroom.

 

******************************************************************************

One Wednesday four and a half months later, Bella and I sat in the library.

"I'm going to New York City for a writer's conference tomorrow," I said. "What would you like me to bring you back?"

I waited, expecting, I don't know what: a t-shirt, maybe.

"I want a picture of a firefighter," she said. She stared at me with huge brown eyes.

"And what I really want is an autograph," she said. She studied my face.

"I'll do my best," I said. "Hey! How about if I bring a picture of you and maybe a short letter, and see if I can find a firefighter to give them to?"

I had no idea if I could do this.

Bella's eyes lit up. She grabbed my pen and wrote:

                                                                                         Jan. 29, 2002

Dear Firefighter,

    Thank you for working hard to clear the ground at ground zero. I think it is very brave that you are doing what you are doing. Thank you.

                                                                                      Your friend,

                                                                                      Bella

 

********************************************************************************************************************

I stood in the fierce Manhattan sun, in a line that wound down four blocks and around another two. Just as I got to the fence with its mementos and massive butcher paper wall, with thousands of messages of hope and sorrow scrawled every which way, I saw him.

He wore brown overalls, a blue shirt with an embossed fire department insignia and a navy blue baseball cap with red letters: FDNY. His name was JJ, from Engine 299, Queens.  His eyes widened as I told him about Bella. I handed the letter and photo to him.

"Wow," he said. "Tell her these are going up at the station." He waved the letter and photo. 

"She wants your autograph," I said.

"Are you kidding?" 

No, I said, it's the one thing she wants me to bring back from New York.

He took the paper from me and wrote,

Dear Bella,

Thank you for being so kind and thoughtful.

 

                                    Your Friend,

                                   J.J. Kerns

Then he reached behind the fence and pulled out an FDNY hat. "Give this to Bella," he said. "Tell her it's from me."

He held up Bella's letter and I took a photo of him.

 

******************************************************************************

The next Wednesday, Bella was sitting on a chair in the library waiting for me.

"I brought you something from my trip," I said.

I handed her J.J.'s photo and note, which I had framed. Her eyes got big.

"Cool!" she said, jumping out of her seat as if I had just brought her the biggest, softest teddy bear from FAO Schwartz.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the FDNY cap. Her face sagged. She grabbed the cap and put it on. It made her look goofy, the way it covered her ears and most of her eyes. I helped her adjust the tab in the back.

Bella stood up. "I want to go back to my class now, " she said.

 She pushed the bill of the cap down and peered out at me.

I smiled. "Sure." 

I watched her skip down the hall, pumping her arm in the air. 

One horrific day. And four and a half months and 3,000 miles later, a genuine, heartfelt connection between an eight-year-old girl and her hero.

It's the one good memory I have from September 11. 

 

******************************************************************************

We have had eight September 11's since that gut-wrenching day.

Bella is now a high school junior. She doesn't need a mentor anymore. She's bright, achieving, just starting to think about the rest of her life.

As we never forget September 11, as we think about the sacrifices that were made for us, let's also think about the kids who, if only for a season, replaced Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys with bigger heroes, like New York's firefighters.

 

What about you? Do you have a story of hope, something good that came out of September 11?

 

 

Comments

[Mark]

Judy,

WoW what an inspirational story. I hope you won't mind if I post your E-mail and the link to this into my page so that others may find it also.

Thank you for inviting me to read!

Mark

[Judy Dunn]

Mark,

I think that this day is ripe for bloggers who care about continuing the conversation in keeping with the sentiment of, as the twitter hashtag says, #neverforget.

I am going over to your blog now to read your post. Thanks for reading mine and caring enough to do one of your own. (And thanks for leaving the link to my post!)

Judy

[Terra Vita]

Judy,
This post holds so much sorrow, hope, beauty, the wonder of a child and your kindness to all involved. Bless you, J.J. Kerns, all of us and our hopes for the future.
I am sure none of us will ever forget that day and the impact to our country. Thank you for sharing.
Kind regards,
Terra Vita

[Judy Dunn]

Terra,

It was that mixture of sorrow and hope of a young child that got to me with Bella that day. That she was sad, but she didn't recognize the evil. Yes, the wonder of a child.

Thanks for reading and leaving a comment.

Judy

[Gary Powell]

What a warm, wonderful and very moving story.

These are the moments that really puts life into proper perspective.

Thank you for sharing this with us.

Gary

[Judy Dunn]

Gary,

Thank you for reading and leaving a comment. I am seeing so many wonderful 9-11 posts today, each coming from a slightly different perspective.

Bella's story is one of many, many stories. Kids just have a way of cutting through all the stuff and telling it like it is. Glad the post was meaningful to you.

Judy

[Diane Bridgwater]

Unbelieveable story, tears are running down my face. Thank you for telling it AND for giving such a wonderful heart felt gift to "Bella". You will be in her heart forever and she has probably told this story to so many people with pride and respect.

Thank you for telling it.

Diane

[Judy Dunn]

Diane,

I still have a tear or two when I think about Bella.

Thank you for reading and leaving such a wonderful comment. I think when we stop feeling emotions, that's the day we'll be in trouble.

Judy

[Janis Flagg]

If we would only stop everything now and then and learn from children, we would have a better world to live in. Their hearts are so pure and honest. When children receive negative ideas accompanied with a lack of emotional support and guidance, things start to complicate and erode their "little" worlds. Thank goodness there are those who will stoop down a couple of feet to listen to them.

[Judy Dunn]

Janis,

I so agree. We would learn so much if we just listened to kids.

Thanks for reading and leaving such a thoughtful comment.

Judy

[René Fabre]

Judy,
A wonderful story of hope from youth... I will never forget that day. I was watching BBC news on Channel 9 before going to the office and was totally stunned by what was unfolding before me.

So many gave so freely, so many victims, yet so much courage, love, friendship, and purpose renewed.

Thank you for sharing your 911 experiences and story.

[Judy Dunn]

Thanks, René. So hard to believe that eight years have passed. Most of us remember that day so vividly.

A lot of us, it seems, watched it live on TV. It was so interesting to me to see it through the eyes of a child.

[Lori Richardson]

Judy,
It is 9/12 by now and I am just reading this. It is so inspirational.

On September 11, 2001, I was living in Boston. I was due to fly out of Logan airport on one of those cross-country morning flights just two days later - to our San Francisco office. Our company had colleagues with meetings in the Towers that week- fortunately for them - all of our team came back.

I look back and am so glad I was living in Boston during that time - only four years of my whole life and as horrible as it was - I know I personallyfelt it more being there as we had subsequent possible 'bomb threats" - or so they worried - where we had to evacuate our building twice, and just the fear of what else might happen - and in reading the Sunday Boston Globe one weekend where hundreds of names and photos of Massachusetts folks who were suddenly taken away from us.

My son played Division I college hockey and each game the rest of that season started with a moment of silence for two former hockey scouts who lost their lives, and who were alumnus of the local colleges there. I remember finally, everyone actually got quiet for the Star Spangled Banner each game, and many finally put their hands to their hearts - something I thought we just "lost" as a society - but it returned after the tragedy.

I learned about so many people I worked with who knew someone who knew someone who died. It was so close to us.

Yesterday I did community service and didn't blog about it - but I am glad to talk about it now - to you and anyone else who reads this. I feel better. Thanks.

[Judy Dunn]

Lori,

Thanks. To me, it is amazing how just talking about it, sharing your story, can be therapy in its own way.

You saw the day from a much closer perspective than we on the west coast did. Just to know someone who knew someone who died. Once removed, yet still so powerful.

Thank you for sharing your memories from that day.

[Jen Vondenbrink]

Judy
Thank you for reposting this article. It helps us to remember that good, real deep down good, can come from such tragedies.

I like Lori, lived in Boston at that time. I remember hour by hour what happened that morning. It is surreal. What was more surreal was the after effect.

One of my friend's husbands was sent from Boston with his team to do recovery work for several months. The stories would give you nightmares.

Then there was my first trip to NYC about 3 weeks after the attack. I sat next to someone on the train who escaped. He only told me his story as we approached the skyline of NYC. It was his first time back as well.

Then there were my friends in NYC at the time. Hearing how they got out of the city I began to feel the human connectedness. Up until that point, I only felt loss. Listening to them and how the entire community had to work together, strangers trusting strangers, so everyone could get home safely in the midst of chaos and sometimes not know why there was such chaos until they arrived home 3, 4, 5, 6 hours later.

Some people say the world has changed for the worse because of the attacks. I suppose it's your point of view because I look at how much more positive and cooperative the world has become. Your story illustrates that beautifully.

We've all been changed. People I know lost loved ones, but it's what we choose to do with that sorrow that continues to change our lives daily.

[Judy Dunn]

Jen,

Thank you so much for sharing those stories. Through stories, we begin to see the humanity in all of us and, especially, how we are more alike than different. the thread of connectedness.

I absolutely love your comment about strangers trusting strangers (and sometimes it was with their own life).

Judy

[Carl Coddington]

Wow Judy. Your writing really is amazing.

[Judy Dunn]

Carl,

I'm honored by the compliment. Thank you.

Judy

[Solomon]

Hi Judy,
A great story to read how a little girl thought about it. I think we need to listen to little children more to know how to live!
thanks for the post, it's really moved me!
I liked a comment above:...It's what we choose to do with that sorrow that continues to change our lives daily.
Solomon

[Judy Dunn]

Solomon,

Thanks for reading and taking the time to leave a comment. I love it when I hear that something I wrote connected with someone,

Judy