What's the cost of freedom?

In the last week it's been hard not to notice the media reports and new outlets gearing up for the 10th anniversary of 9/11.

It's been hard not to notice; yet, it is at the same time difficult to remember and impossible to forget.

A lot can happen in ten years. I look back on the events of that day and remember the flood of emotions that overwhelmed me the moment my teacher Ms. McClinton turned on the TV in my 2nd period Physics class. Glued to the screen I couldn't help but watch as news anchors shrieked, people ran for their lives, and a second tower was hit. Devastation. Complete despair. Buildings that once stood tall as a symbol of America's promise and economic strength dissolved to ashes before our eyes. Most of us remember quite clearly where we were that moment whether high school seniors, like myself, or already in the workforce. I was surprised in reading the Wall Street Journal today that 20% of Americans are either not alive, or not able to remember 9/11. For them this is the norm. To these children the words "9/11" are nothing more than words that sprinkle the vocabulary of grown-ups and and heard on the nightly news. They will never feel the uncertainty, as we did, in the days that followed 9/11, watching the events unfold and our world unravel like the end of a rope that symbolized something that was once precious and good and whole, and became a tangle of threads slipping through our fingers. My daughter won't know what it was like to watch her friends - boys, barely eighteen years, stand up at the lunch table and declare, with courage beyond their years, that they were enlisting to serve their country. I, as well as all those with children who were not alive then, am faced with the enormous challenge and duty of giving weight and importance to this day. I must teach, I must talk, I must represent those who were forever effected or lost on that day.

It was spring of 2006 when I moved to New York City, nearly five years after 9/11. I naively thought the city had moved past the tragedy by then. After all, time heals all wounds, right? But everyone I encountered had a story. Whether they had watched people covered in ashes walking up the avenues from downtown, whether they had lost a loved one, or like one woman I knew, had been burnt on 70% of her body and had nearly died. Sadly, I knew her for nearly a year before I knew her story. She was my client at Ralph Lauren and I honestly thought the only thing she'd been the victim of was a lot of bad plastic surgery. She had had plastic surgery, no doubt. Numerous procedures. All to repair the damage that was done when a pile of burning rubble fell on her as she was running from the building. I was helping her in the dressing room to try on a stunningly beading $6000 gown for one of NYC's many social galas. I noticed how sadly she looked at herself in the mirror. Selfishly, because I was paid on commission, I told her how fabulous she looked in the dress. Though, in truth it showed the many scars she had on the right side of her body. She smiled, "If only you'd seen me before 9/11." Over the next few months her story would come out in bits and pieces and all I could say was, "I'm so sorry." She was one of the lucky ones. She knew that too. No one has a story from that day that is free of sorrow. No one was free of pain. Everyone was touched.

I want my daughter to know that. I want her to know the sacrifice so many paid for the freedom we enjoy as Americans. I want her to know how blessed we truly are.

A lot can happen in ten years. My own life has seen the milestones of completing high school, college, grad school, marriage, and two kids. Ten years feels simultaneously like yesterday and an eternity ago. When I look at ten years in the life of our country so many things strike me. It seems like America has been on a roller coaster, both politically and economically speaking. There have been moments when I felt like I was seeing the silver lining. Moments when our country rose up like the proverbial phoenix from the ashes. Watching the firemen raise the perfect shaped cross, created from the steel beams of the building and forged in the fire; watching politicians trade politics and party lines for the greater good of America's citizens. Then there are the moments of the petty bickering, that so characterizes Washington today. Moments of when America has appeared laughable on the world stage, or worse, overly cocky. A roller coaster. I don't like roller coasters much. I'm ready for the ride to be over.

I want my daughter to know the events of that fateful day, nearly ten years ago. I want her to know the sacrifices made by so many. But I also want her to know the cost.

Lives lost on 9/11:  nearly 3000
Lives in the war on terror: over 6200
Federal Homeland Security spending in the last ten years: $360 billion (not including the state, local, or private sector that spent another $330 billion)
Operations in Iraq and Afghanistan since 9/11: $1.3 trillion

The numbers are staggering. Of course, it is impossible to put a price tag on the emotional cost of the lives lost and this war on terror (regardless of whether or not we agree with the war being waged.) The costs have been high. It it begs me to ask the question: Do we feel safer? Was it worth it?

I don't necessarily have any answers...for now just lingering questions.

What's the cost of freedom?