9/11 has been the biggest thing to hit my generation. I was born in 1992. We were little kids, in third grade. We sat in the classroom and our teacher turned the TV on just as coolly as she'd tell us, "Turn to page x in your textbooks." We saw the second tower get hit. We heard planes scrambling around the nuclear power plant we later learned that could've easily been a target.
I went home and saw it replayed over and over. I was watching in shock, and never really understood how much it affected me until I called a friend from my old school. She was Muslim, and I had no religious beliefs. I asked if she'd been involved, if her family had. A second-grader's scared voice cried back to me, "No, but you're my only white friend who's still talking to me." I want my nephew's generation to know: Love your neighbors, as yourself. Talk things out before you hurt people. I want them to know the wisdom of Martin Luther King, Jr. From "Letter from Birmingham Jail":
"Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will soon pass away, and that in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty."
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