Pard
Member
I was in 4th grade when 9/11 happened. My parents pulled me out of school at 10 o'clock, because we live near Hartford and they were afraid that more was going to happen. I remember when I left the school that day that there was three police cars in the bus lane and at least 6 cops milling around. When I got in the car my dad was crying, balling actually. Not only had we been attacked and so terribly, but he lost friends in the world trade center.
When we got home my mom was crying at the TV and my dad joined her. I was told to go to my room and stay there, but being a 4th grader I didn't listen. I sat on the floor and watched the TV. I hated myself because I could not muster tears, like my parents. (Now that I am older I do cry when I think about it, the events were not settling in my 9 year old mind) I remember three things from the TV scenes that they kept replaying over and over for weeks.
First, I remember the planes going into the buildings. It was a surreal moment and I can replay that video over and over in my head.
Second, I remember the people who jumped from the building to get away from the flames. Again, that was so surreal, and well, just so sad and tragic.
Third, and I still having nightmares about this, is the "dust". I say "dust" because it was really a mix of many, many things, including bodies. I remember camera men running for blocks to keep ahead of the "dust". I remember the speed and the thickness of that "dust".
That "dust" traveled well beyond the two block distant that this Mosque is from ground zero. That "dust" is more than crumbled dry wall and insulation. That "dust" is made up of the more than 1100 victims who have bodies that were never and will never be found. They only found 293 bodies, the rest of the victims were carried away in the wind, in that "dust".
So when this Imam, and talking-heads, and Muslims, and supports of this mosque declare that two blocks away from ground zero is not sacred ground and that it i not at ground zero, I have to pause and rid myself of that repeating nightmare.
So, excuse me when I declare that anywhere that the "dust" touched is sacred ground.
View attachment 1478
When we got home my mom was crying at the TV and my dad joined her. I was told to go to my room and stay there, but being a 4th grader I didn't listen. I sat on the floor and watched the TV. I hated myself because I could not muster tears, like my parents. (Now that I am older I do cry when I think about it, the events were not settling in my 9 year old mind) I remember three things from the TV scenes that they kept replaying over and over for weeks.
First, I remember the planes going into the buildings. It was a surreal moment and I can replay that video over and over in my head.
Second, I remember the people who jumped from the building to get away from the flames. Again, that was so surreal, and well, just so sad and tragic.
Third, and I still having nightmares about this, is the "dust". I say "dust" because it was really a mix of many, many things, including bodies. I remember camera men running for blocks to keep ahead of the "dust". I remember the speed and the thickness of that "dust".
That "dust" traveled well beyond the two block distant that this Mosque is from ground zero. That "dust" is more than crumbled dry wall and insulation. That "dust" is made up of the more than 1100 victims who have bodies that were never and will never be found. They only found 293 bodies, the rest of the victims were carried away in the wind, in that "dust".
So when this Imam, and talking-heads, and Muslims, and supports of this mosque declare that two blocks away from ground zero is not sacred ground and that it i not at ground zero, I have to pause and rid myself of that repeating nightmare.
So, excuse me when I declare that anywhere that the "dust" touched is sacred ground.
View attachment 1478
http://911review.com/attack/wtc/dustclouds.html
Last edited by a moderator: