[Congressional Record Volume 150, Number 107 (Friday, September 10, 2004)]
[Senate]
[Pages S9048-S9049]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
REMEMBERING SEPTEMBER 11, 2001
Mr. DASCHLE. Tomorrow, in New York, at the Pentagon, in Shanksville,
PA, and in communities all across our Nation, Americans will pause to
remember the horror and the extraordinary heroism of September 11.
Commemoration ceremonies will be held in firehouses, VFW halls, parks,
churches, synagogues, mosques, libraries, and countless other places.
Surely one of the most poignant remembrance events is an exhibit that
is being held through Sunday at a small art gallery in New York City,
not far from where the twin towers once stood. It is an exhibit of
artwork by children who lost family members--mostly parents--when the
towers came crashing down.
We all lost so much, so quickly, on that terrible day. But few lost
more than the children of September 11. Three thousand children lost a
parent in the terrorist attacks on America. Nearly two dozen of those
children never met their fathers; they were born after September 11.
Many thousands more children lost someone close to them: a
grandparent, a brother or sister, an aunt or uncle.
Over the last 3 years, 400 of the children of September 11 have
sought comfort, strength, and answers in therapy programs offered by
the WorldTrade Center Family Center at South Nassau Communities
Hospital on Long Island. The exhibit this weekend showcases art these
children have created during their therapy sessions.
With the permission of the children and their families, I would like
to show you some of their work.
This was painted by a 9-year-old son of a New York City firefighter
who died in the collapse of the towers. This is a baseball diamond. In
the outfield are two huge crosses. The little boy who painted this
picture said it is a picture of the moment he first realized how much
he missed his dad. He had just hit a home run; he was rounding the
bases and looked up to search for his father's face in the stands.
Angels are a recurring image in the children's art. This angel looks
like the Statue of Liberty. She is delivering a message to heaven.
A month after the attacks, the children were asked to try to imagine
how they might feel about their loss over time. This series of
paintings is a collective effort by about 40 of the children of
September 11 to answer that question. It is called ``Seasons of
Grief.'' It shows four trees. The trees start out separate and alone.
By the last panel, they are leaning toward each other, almost as if
they are helping to hold each other up.
Even in the depths of unspeakable grief, the children of September 11
understood instinctively that there are sorrows we cannot bear alone,
but there is nothing we cannot get through together. That is a lesson
we all understood--immediately and instinctively--on that terrible day.
Three years later, what we remember about September 11 is not only
the shock, and horror, and grief. We also remember the stunning heroism
of the firefighters climbing the stairs--the passengers and crew
members of Flight 93 defying their hijackers and the rescue workers
toiling day and night.
We remember, too, how differently, and clearly, we seemed to see
things after the attacks. We saw beyond the old labels. We were not
black, white, red, brown, yellow, rich or poor, Republicans or
Democrats. We were one people, indivisible--broken-hearted but not
broken apart. Our recognition of our common bonds was our comfort, and
our strength.
Three years later, we remember the great kindness and generosity with
which people treated each other--even total strangers, even thousands
of miles from the attack sites.
Don and Adele Hight own a family ranch in Murdo, SD. On September 11,
they had already struggled through 2 years of drought. They sold 100
calves and donated the proceeds--more than $40,000--to help victims of
the attacks. The manager of the local Livestock Association called
their donation ``an act of kindness, generosity and true Americanism.''
The Smith Equipment Company in Watertown, SD, makes heavy duty
torches. In the days after the attacks, their cutting supplies were in
high demand. So 175 employees at Smith Equipment volunteered to work
around the clock to produce tons of equipment and rush it to Ground
Zero.
A week after the Twin Towers fell, two men from Sioux Falls loaded up
a pickup truck with $20,000 worth of donated steel-toed boots, tube
socks, and work gloves, drove to New York, distributed the protective
gear to rescue workers at Ground Zero, and then got back in their truck
and drove straight home.
All across South Dakota, school children, Scout troops, church
organizations, employees and customers of small businesses, and
countless others donated money for victims relief funds. At least one
couple donated their tax-refund checks. People stood in line to donate
blood. Some enlisted, or re-enlisted, in the military. People
sacrificed. And they prayed for those who died, and the families they
left, for the surviving victims, the rescue workers, and for our
wounded nation.
Part of the sadness many of use feel as we approach this third
anniversary of September 11 has to do with how divided our Nation
sometimes feels now.
We cannot reclaim those we lost on September 11. But we can reclaim
the sense of unity and generosity that their sacrifice inspired in us.
It is still there. It is still within us.
The families of September 11 have endorsed a project called ``One
Day's Pay.'' It encourages people to observe the anniversary of
September 11 by donating one day's pay, or one day's labor, to a
community organization--to channel our sadness and anger for
constructive purposes.
Those of us who have the privilege of serving our Nation in elected
offices have another job to do as well. We can--and we must--work
together, in good faith, to make America safer--without sacrificing the
freedoms that make America great. We do not have the luxury of delay.
The terrorists who attacked us struck at the symbols of our financial
and military might because they thought those symbols were America's
greatest strengths. They were wrong. The real measure of America's
greatness is not in glass and steel. It is in our people. It is in our
shared commitment to freedom and democracy--and to each other. As the
children of September 11 understood instinctively, we need each other.
Wherever we find ourselves tomorrow morning, let us remember not only
the horror of September 11, but also the unity and the kindness we
witnessed that day. And let us vow to honor those we lost by keeping
the spirit of September 11 alive in our hearts. If we do, then, in a
real way, those we lost will live on forever.
I yield the floor.
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