September 11 remains a dark day, forever ingrained in the hearts and minds of those who lived through watching the towers fall. We know where we were and what we were doing when the news hit us like a sucker punch to the face.
When I was a child, adults would talk about where they were when John F. Kennedy was shot, or Elvis died, inevitably turning to me and ominously saying, you will have your day. With a knowing smile they claimed every generation has a pivotal event that defines it. A surreal moment where time suspends and when it starts back up again, everything you thought you knew about life is changed. If you are lucky to live long enough, you may have several, but you will always know when and where you were for each one.
My brain has compartmentalized my 9/11 pivotal moment down to how I found out we were under attack. The car radio started with the engine that morning, but instead of music, I heard Ace, TJ and the rest of the then morning crew of KISS 95.1 weeping and talking in muted tones about the plane that hit the World Trade Center. Somewhere between getting in my car and turning on the radio, my world view changed forever. Seeing the shell- shocked faces of the other drivers on my way home, I knew their expressions mirrored my own. The American flag waved proudly at me from every other house I drove by and I wondered how it still could. When I arrived home, I sat glued to the TV, watching along with my parents in horror as our people jumped to escape the burning inferno. From the safety of our living room couch, we heard the horrifying thumps of American bodies hitting the ground.
Each year the names are read of those that perished, most representing someone that worked in the buildings, people who would have normally been there on any given day. Others are names of our service men and women who flooded the scene as soon as the first plane struck the tower. Without knowing how serious it was or if more attacks were yet to come, these brave Americans gathered up their gear and rolled out. Their names now on the list, not because they would have been there anyway, but because they chose to be there ready to protect, serve and give their life in the line of duty.
In the following hours and days, rescue service crews came from all over New York, as well as from across our fair nation. America felt like it was bleeding out from every corner, but our heroes were stepping up to answer our collective distress call.
Today, I am saddened by how divided our nation has chosen to become after the unity of the days that followed those traumatic events. On September 12, no one in New York or anywhere else in this country cared about skin color or zip codes. All that mattered was that you were American and we had been hit, collectively, as one. New York may have absorbed the bulk of the physical blows, but the scars of September 11 are forever sewn into the fabric of American history.
Learning this week that members of the Wadesboro Police Department are leaving its ranks in droves, I became alarmed, as it speaks to a larger national issue now seeping into the American small town. One which threatens to erase our history, to rip apart the fabric of its sometimes blood soaked, but always tightly woven strands. Evidenced by the penning of the Mayflower Compact, the bedrock of the United States of America is in its belief in the rule of law and its peoples’ willingness to comply for the good and survival of all. The one caveat to this being unless and until the law becomes intolerable or tyrannical, as we have so decisively proven in the past.
An unseen evil now prowls American streets, its lawless hand pushing an increase in violent crimes. In Chicago, New York and Detroit armed gangs are terrorizing helpless law-abiding citizens. Flash mob thieves are brazenly storming stores in mass and robbing businesses blind. The list of crimes on the increase across the nation goes on while people merely film it. Turning on the news is a bombardment of one terrifying story of violence after another to inflame sensibilities or it is seeing societal norms assaulted by images of police officers beaten in the streets as their attackers walk free.
When open season has been declared on the rule of law and those brave enough to uphold it, the issue goes beyond pay to one of respect and appreciation. It speaks to one’s ability to justify taking potential abuse, to persevere after being spit on for no reason than because you dared to wear the uniform in certain areas of our country.
Pointing to an uptick in violence against law enforcement members, a CNN article from January 2022 records, “Last year [2021] saw the highest number of law enforcement officers who were intentionally killed in the line of duty since the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.”
If you asked yourself what makes you feel respected and appreciated at your job, what would you say? Is it tied to your pay? Is it enough to risk dying for? Is it enough to run into a burning building? What is your price tag for even one heroic act?
Giving support and showing appreciation for our law enforcement and rescue service members is always welcome, but we need to compensate our officers and deputies accordingly because when faced with our own 9/11 moment, be it a law enforcement, fire, or medical need, we know who we are going to call and it’s not the Ghostbusters. We can accept our legal system is not perfect, work every day to change it, while acknowledging we are still blessed with men and women willing to serve in it. We can loudly call out anyone who dishonors the badge and we can trust Wadesboro’s elected town officials and the police department to work together as designed.
In a recent cautionary tale, the town of Alexandria, Tennessee, had its entire police force resign, allegedly due to its micro-managing new mayor, Beth Tripp. This dangerous incident highlights a lack of respect and appreciation expressed by law enforcement across the country.
While there are some professional positions that can go an extended period with a vacancy, our law enforcement positions are not among them. No municipality, great or small, can function successfully when it lacks law and order.
Without rule of law, freedoms should not be expected nor can they be guaranteed. Freedom is the antithesis of lawlessness and when the latter flourishes, freedom dies unprotected. One of our founding fathers, Alexander Hamilton said, “I think the first duty of every society is justice.” Going hand in hand, neither freedom nor justice has a place in a society that lacks the will to enforce its own laws or compensate the men and women needed to get the job of protecting its citizens done.
I can appreciate being leery of the police. I can understand how being done wrong, even once, can color a lifetime of experiences. Mistrustful of law enforcement and having already been failed once myself, I didn’t report someone I should have to the police. My decision not to ask for help or report the issue, led to me leaving my hometown, moving to and then leaving another county, and later the state, in the rear view mirror. Seasoned with age and experience as I am now, I know in every profession there are bad apples. In a similar situation today, I would not be afraid, I would be grateful to know an officer is only a phone call away. For that confidence, I am thankful for and stand with the men and women of law enforcement.
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