My friend’s daughter was born on September 11, 2001. As she grows, so does our distance from that day. But the memory of September 11 has not faded for me.
It didn’t take very long on that day for everyone to understand that America was under attack. What was not known was how broad the attacks would be, and how many targets there were. The tallest buildings in Toronto were evacuated as a precaution, and obviously work felt meaningless. People started wondering whether Toronto’s Jewish day schools might be targets too and some parents started to head to the schools to pick up their children.
Around lunchtime, my daughter Naomi, then 11, called to say that most of the kids had been picked up by their parents because there was a rumour that there was a bomb in the school. Rather than trying to convince her otherwise, I left the office and went to pick up Naomi and her two sisters, Orli, who was then 7 and Yael who was 5. It was a beautiful fall day, sunny and crisp, and, with all three kids now safely in the car, I made the executive decision to take them for an ice cream on Eglinton.
As we walked into Baskin Robbins, I turned to them with teeth gritted in anger and a waving finger and said “We are not going to let the terrorists change our lives. We are having ice cream.” I now go for an ice cream every September 11 to remember that horrible day. My kids do too.
Read more at Times of Israel.