What It Means

What It Means to Me, Us, the Fallen Generation

With straight track pupils on the plumes of smoke pouring from the neck of the first sibling our bodies were locked yet our minds raced with questions—possibilities. But then, before our stammering and repeated thoughts could convince us otherwise, our jaws fell from the temples and our brows bent in with shaky horror. Tears built up in the quivering sacks below our eyes as a second plane struck the sister of the first, and our ears throbbed after the explosion echoed for the first time through our minds.

Our hopeful reasoning—oh, it must have been some freak accident; it couldn’t be an attack—was immediately erased from what could be true. We knew that what we were hoping for wasn’t the reality of the situation. And then, not long after we learned that third plane had hit the pentagon, the towers that pierced the heavens fell one at a time—and our minds fell with them into a silent state of shock. We took a few steps back as we looked to the falling sky as ash and soot billowed out of the atmosphere—and in this captured moment we find the definition of our generation.

Like those wandering and disillusioned in the downtown streets of falling remains that day of September Eleventh, 2001, we now must see ourselves as we are today. What happened that day had far more affect on the American than just mere emotions—although the emotions are in no way mere. They are what began to shape our psyches for we no longer tend to rationalize but let our emotions guide our souls. It is understandable in the aftermath of such a devastating event for there to be an equally devastating result as to the way we perceive, and thus relate to and deal with the world and events therein.
We were at an age where our parents’ lessons and teachings were still fresh in our minds. We were at the point where we made it from our home, down the block and to school—seeking out and discovering the land in between for what it really was. The schools failed to make us aware of a world with conflict and we were sheltered, for the most part, from the reality of the world from our parents. We still held a slim hope that we were in reach of an idyllic Eden at the end of a not so hard road. “Of course I’ll be an astronaut; of course I can fuck around without repercussions.”

We were still fresh, not really innocent but not yet guilty of things like murder. Sure, there were field trips every now and then to the Holocaust museum and we’d hear lessons from survivors but nothing was retained fully. Never did we experience an atrocity first hand in a way that made us look and think upon the hate or beliefs that drives one person to do harm to another. Never did we reflect because we weren’t asked to, or wasn’t exposed to it. And even after, I believe so many people (myself included) pushed the date as far from memory as possible in order to avoid pain. We as creatures shy away from what might pain us, what we may fear—in order to survive.

We learned that day that even if one does everything right—even if you just wake up and go to work—your life can be taken from you. Nothing is promised even when as individuals we still had everything life boasted on its table. This notion continued in ours minds and we became runners from the fears that led to the fall of the Twins and we became willing to follow anybody that was willing to face these fears for us—but we wouldn’t do so ourselves. We preferred to sit back, and let those we elected to rub our heads and tell us it would be okay—they’ll handle everything. Even when the threats to our existence weren’t real but shadows, illusions of our fears, which were thrown at us and used as a threat by crooks who posed as leaders, we recognized these shadows of an incoming concrete fate, and accepted anything to deter them. We let these people who were incapable of proper leadership drag us through the desert, and when a bailout helicopter came they left us behind. This doesn’t go so much for our generation. For it was the elder generations which dictated to now rebuild by using outdated gentrification. No most of us saw it coming but didn’t know what to do. Many of us ran away from our fears as well, but in a different way as the aged adults.

So what did we do? We solely lost ourselves in our youth—never accepting the role to become the new leaders of the age old world. Instead of being concerned with what we could do to better our living conditions for the long run we became indulged in our current living conditions within the moment we were no longer guaranteed. And we no longer worried ourselves over age old questions—because after all, what good is it to ask questions if your whole world can just come crashing down. One day we will be dead—what would it matter then? People have asked me this when I ask a question which requires a thoughtfully deep response. It is true I believe people should live life to the fullest while they are still capable but not without considering tomorrow. Without actively being aware of what future might bring based on the action within the present because the person is wrapped in it, well—I’d imagine would lead to a state of depression or regret found in knowing that upon death nothing will be left behind.

Will it matter if a bracelet among thirty is passed down to a grand daughter—or the person’s story? Will a beer at a crowded bar be more preferred then reflection at the mouth of the Gulf on a moon lit night?

We have long remained absent in thought of the affairs of our fellow human beings in order to optimize our own fleeting experience. Glamour, glit, sex and drugs—enjoy life!  Although it is common for men to only look at themselves in the mirror, they must realize their mirror isn’t the only one looking back at a lens that captures the world. Sure, the world may be the individual’s, but the individual is not the world. There are more important things to do then down a beer, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t down the beer. That can’t be the only thing we do.

Lives, just as ripples on a calm pool when it rains, overlap. One day a rain will come and to understand our environment we must become aware of the newer drops to break the surface—just as our fathers and mothers will do with us. So then we need to realize, it will rain again, and another child will be born and thrown into the mix. We can do as we have done for eight years passed, and become transfixed in a moment that will forever be imprinted in the mind, or we can realize there is a tomorrow which needs planning. If tomorrow we begin laying bricks as a foundation to actualize the blueprint of yesterday—somewhere down the future we will be left with temples that can be touched, instead of hang overs that can only be felt alone.

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