Posted on: Friday, October 12, 2001

Island Voices
Victory is in remembering

I sat for three days in front of my television, transfixed by the awful images, tears streaming down my face. I couldn't exorcise the thoughts from my mind — memories of friends I had once worked with in the World Trade Center, thoughts of the grieving families, flashes of the moments of terror so many people must have experienced.

It was several more days before I realized how many people around the world had experienced the events of Sept. 11 in much the same way I did — millions of people for whom life was suspended while they processed for themselves just what had happened to their world in those few terrible moments on a Tuesday morning.

By that Friday, I had begun to understand what it all meant to me. It wasn't that life was too short. I knew that already. In the military, I've touched the death of strangers, and was involved in the recovery of the Space Shuttle Challenger.

Yes, life is too short. And by Friday, I was reaching out to estranged family members in an appeal to seize the present, forgive and heal. I was invoking unity and tolerance in e-mail replies to those who sent me messages blaming the followers of Islam for the senseless acts of zealots. I was expressing pride in a president for whom I never would have voted.

And though all of that was encompassed in what Sept. 11 meant to me, it was only a part of that meaning. As I came up for air --- turned off the television and tried to return to the book I had started reading on Sept. 10, I knew that "normal" would never be normal again. Not because I was damaged, but because I was changed. The anger and grief had not gone away, but they had taken on a new shape that will remain forever at the core of my being.

And this is what it all meant to me: Don't ever forget.

Americans pride ourselves on going on with life, no matter what is thrown at us. Through wars, hurricanes, earthquakes, floods and depressions, we have endured and ultimately prospered because of our tenacity. But we are at our best when we allow ourselves to be changed, toughened, tempered by the watershed events of our times.

Now, as the late-night talk show hosts return to their banter and public debate slowly returns to the issues that prevailed before that terrifying morning, we try to find the new normal in our lives. Flags still fly. Politicians — the good ones, at least — still commit themselves to unity of purpose. Police, firefighters and military still enjoy a renewed esteem in the eyes of the people they serve.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner get cooked and eaten. Dishes get washed. Rubbish is carried out to the curb. Bills get paid and homework gets done. We find comfort in these familiar habits.

And that's good. We need to anchor ourselves firmly to our past, while living fully in the present. We need to care for our children, come to the aid of our neighbors, exchange gifts, and live the life of a people undeterred by lunatic violence.

But let's not forget. Let's not stop waving the flags, praying the prayers, thanking the people who serve our communities and nation in uniform. Let's not stop being proud to be American. Let's not make ethnic tolerance a short-lived fad.

Because our victory is in remembering and persevering. Our victory is in being changed but not damaged. Our victory is in being stronger, braver, prouder than we were in the moments before we became aware of those terrorist acts.

Live well. Love your families. Laugh, cry and carry on. But never, never forget.

Ken Armstrong is a Honolulu writer and entrepreneur. He is a former NATO officer, and a joint military contingency planner, trained in management of terrorist situations.