The kids in my life have become quite the conversationalists.
From my nieces, nephews, and students to my own children, our conversations have expanded greatly as they all have realized that there were days that they have never seen, but I have.
We talk about what’s happening in the world around them currently, or what’s happened in recent history.
Our conversations have become a bit of a time warp and it's simultaneously hilarious and spellbinding.
Here’s one of my favorite conversations with my nephew regarding the events on Sept. 11, 2001:
“So, you were around when this happened?” He fidgeted with the glass in his hand as he leaned on the table, a bit wide eyed, waiting for my reply. I see the little stubble on his mid-adolescent face a bit clearer.
“Well, I wasn’t there, but I remember where I was when it happened. It’s kind of surreal to think…”
He interrupted me and hit his hand excitedly on the table. “You were alive in the 1900s?” His gasp was as sincere as it was dramatic.
“Wait, you cannot credit my first-hand knowledge for the whole century, because … a century is 100 years, right?” I choked down a laugh to get through the sentence. I elongated the pause hoping it brought clarity to the fact that I am nowhere near 100 years old, let alone beyond it.
I quickly realized that he didn’t catch on. I needed to give him an education in the most subtle way.
“Besides,” I began, “The Twin Towers attack happened in 2001, so technically, if we are talking about centuries, you should have first-hand knowledge of that.”
“No way,” he said. “That was before I was born.” I watched as the reality of what he’d said to me slowly sink in. “I just know that you always seem to know about the years around when you were born, that’s why I said the 1900s. Like, you would know about Elvis' death or when JFK died, right?”
I chuckled and said, “Right.”
We continued that night with friends and family leaning into the conversation, sharing where they were when the Twin Towers collapsed. It ebbed and flowed with facts and personal stories or close second-hand accounts.
Hopefully, my nephew now knows what the word “century” means.
I remember a similar conversation in my classroom with my second-grade students. I taught a lesson around the Twin Towers attack while having to navigate wide-eyed questions. It was one of my favorite days to date. My students shared their stories and even how some of their families were present in New York the day this happened, before any of them were born.
Even then, I had great conversationalists around me, about one of the saddest days in history for the United States. Again, we all shared facts, stories, and perspectives as I guided them through their journey to understand and even inquire more with their families at home. Many of my students’ families reached out to thank me for the conversation we had in class that day.
What they didn’t know was that I was very grateful to them for allowing me to have that conversation with their little ones.
I was sitting in our family’s car on September 11, 2001. I was waiting for my mom to return from the administrative office of my co-op school program in Dallas, Texas. I don’t think my 14-year-old mind truly comprehended what the radio announcer was saying. I just remember staring at the glove compartment and blinking rhythmically.
My mom interrupted my thoughts with the opening of the car door. She could tell by the cadence of the sentence ending on the radio program and the look on my face that I knew. For the next 20 minutes we talked about what we didn’t know, what we did know, and what we hoped for.
It's September, so naturally I think of this conversation and pause with reverence to the lives lost 23 years ago and the new generation that talks about it now. I’m glad we can have real conversations about the world around us because a lot is happening, good, bad, and ugly.
I’m sure I will continue many conversations with the conclusion of the 2024 Olympics and as election season picks up. We are going to have a lot to talk about, whether we are foreshadowing or remembering. It’s a call for good conversations with our conversationalists, and about more than just what they want to do with their friends this weekend.
Still, swirling in weekend plans in the current events conversation keeps life like an oyster, budding with opportunity.
I’m taking note of more stories from the younger generations in my life. We will be sure to keep it under five decades, so that people like me don’t weigh in omnipotently on the entire century.
I really hope my nephew now knows the true meaning of that word.
Diamone Ukegbu is a local Little Haiti artist, creative, teacher, mom and wife who is in the throes of raising three children while trying to keep her sanity.
