*September 11, 2001, fifteen years ago – if you are 18 now, you were three then. Since that tragic day many things have changed.
You’ve grown up during a time when the internet has dominated your world with social media like Facebook; you must have the latest technology in hand-held devices which seem to have no limit and no end; you’re mostly indifferent on gender issues; you’d rather text than forge real relationships and friendships through human touch and interaction; for security reasons, you don’t know the feeling of seeing a loved one off or greeting them at the airport boarding gate instead of at the curb; the new chic for many of you is sagging; selfies are the order of the day, and on and on it goes.
It’s no fault of yours the way you were raised or what you have been exposed and subjected to; I’d just like to offer something for you to think about. I hope you will take time to watch the 911 documentaries that will be telecast throughout the week.
You have so many freedoms; so many choices that you take for granted because of your so-called feeling of entitlement. But can you imagine what your life would be if all your choices were reduced to just two? That’s exactly what happened to many unfortunate souls on that fateful morning 15 years ago – the day our world changed!
So the next time you obsess over getting the next new gadget, or ask of your “helicopter” parents or fair paying employer the self-serving “what have you done for me lately,” please ponder the words to this tribute poem I wrote for the trapped 911 victims:
TWO CHOICES
A Poem by Larry Buford
I heard the roaring of the plane
so close I held my breath
then an explosive crash announced
the arrival of death.
The tremendous boom, the crunch, the grind
drowned out my desperate scream
great fireballs, heat so intense
I prayed it was a dream.
Fear took control – what shall I do
perish in flames or flee
I paced and cried, I cried and paced
time running out on me.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide
so far above the ground
my last wish for my loved ones was
that my remains be found.
I jumped into Eternity
Hell blazing at my heels
I pleaded, God have mercy…
knowing my fate was sealed.
Larry Buford is a Los Angeles-based freelance writer. Author of “Things Are Gettin’ Outta Hand. (213) 220-8101; E-mail: [email protected]
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