I Don’t Remember Them Together

Twenty-five years later, looking back at the Apple Festival that began the day after September 11

My Dad and Me
2001 Murphysboro Apple Festival Parade
September 15, 2001

Twenty-five years ago, I competed in the Miss Apple Festival pageant for the first time.

It may sound inconsequential, especially given what else happened that week, but at 17 it was a monumental event in my life. I had dreamed of being in that pageant for as long as I could remember.

Of course, that was also the week of the 9/11 attacks on our country.

I don’t need to tell you what that day felt like. We all remember where we were when we heard. The world stopped.

And the next day, the Murphysboro Apple Festival began.

I remember both.

But strangely, I don’t remember them together.

I first heard the news driving down 15th Street in my 1995 Ford Probe on my way to school. I was stopping at the parsonage to pick up our youth pastor’s son when I heard on the radio that a plane had hit the World Trade Center.

I remember thinking something like, What kind of idiot flies a plane into a building in the middle of New York City?

By the time we got to class, the second plane had hit.

No one needed to explain to me what that meant. I knew it was intentional.

I didn’t know much about terrorism then. I would learn quickly. But in that moment, I knew enough.

I knew it was evil.

My mind immediately went to my cousin Ali, who was a flight attendant for Southwest Airlines at the time. In the chaos of that day, we couldn’t reach her. We wouldn’t know until the next day that she was safe.

I remember watching the coverage with my dad. I remember being glued to the television as the enormity of what had happened began to sink in.

All of a sudden, the world felt unsafe.

And I think a little bit of innocence disappeared in the understanding.

But I also remember pageant practice.

I remember the Opening Ceremony.

I remember the pie-eating contest.

I remember the excitement of finally participating in something I had dreamed about my whole life.

I remember both.

But I don’t remember them together.

Over the past year, as I’ve interviewed people about their Apple Festival memories, I’ve heard the adult version of that week, the discussions and decisions happening around me that my 17-year-old self barely registered.

There were difficult conversations about whether the Festival should go forward at all.

Gaye Youngman described the decision to me this way: “It was decided that the terrorists win if they keep us from living our lives as Americans.”

But deciding to have the Festival was one thing. No one knew whether people would actually come.

Mike Ruiz told me that even after the decision was made to move forward, there was uncertainty about whether anyone would show up downtown.

They did.

We were still glued to our televisions, watching something almost impossible to comprehend unfold. But when the time came, people went downtown like they always had. I think we probably needed to be together.

I don’t remember any of that uncertainty.

I don’t remember wondering whether there would be an Apple Festival.

At 17, I simply believed there would be.

There is only one moment when the two memories overlap for me.

Mary (Falat) Jarvis
Miss Apple Festival Queen Contestant Speech
September 15, 2001

During the pageant, one of the contestants, Mary (Falat) Jarvis, gave an answer reflecting on what had happened that week. Her older brother, Matt, was serving in the U.S. Air Force and had received orders to deploy, and her younger brother was a volunteer firefighter.

I remember her words bringing tears to my eyes.

She went on to become Miss Apple Festival that year.

I remember having tears in my eyes then, too, although admittedly for a very different reason. I didn’t place. I was heartbroken.

I was a child and an adult in the same moment, but somehow not together.

And almost immediately, I was determined to come back and try again the next year.

For years, I suppose I’ve thought of this simply as an oddity of memory. Maybe my mind protected those happy memories by keeping them separate from everything happening in the world around me.

Or maybe the Festival gave my mind something safe and familiar to hold onto.

But after spending the past year thinking, writing and talking with people about tradition, I see that week differently.

The Festival didn’t make what had happened less horrific. It didn’t make anyone less frightened or make the world feel safe again.

But the familiar things were still there.

The parade route.

The pageant.

The pies.

The people we knew.

The places we gathered.

People showed up.

At 17, I didn’t have language for why any of that mattered. I just knew the Apple Festival was happening, and I was going to be part of it.

Twenty-five years later, I understand it differently.

And while working on this piece, I got to see that week differently, too.

I reached out to Mary because I wanted to make sure I was remembering her pageant answer correctly. She still had footage from the parade and pageant that week, so I bought a VHS converter and spent a few hours watching events I hadn’t seen in 25 years.

I found something I didn’t remember at all.

On Thursday night, just before the traditional queen contestant pie-eating contest, the emcee asked the crowd to stand. Then, together and a cappella, everyone sang the National Anthem.

I don’t remember that.

But there it was.

We stood together and sang. And then the festivities continued in their honor.

The two things weren’t nearly as separate as they became in my memory.

This year, the Murphysboro Apple Festival celebrates its 75th year during the same week our country marks 25 years since September 11.

And this time, I don’t have the luxury of keeping the two things neatly separated in my mind.

I’m a mother now.

I understand more about how quickly the world can change and how badly we want to protect our children from that knowledge for as long as we can.

But I also understand something I couldn’t have articulated at 17:

Traditions don’t protect us from the hard things that happen in the world. They give us somewhere to return when they do.

And I think that’s one reason they matter so much.

The world will keep changing around us. Sometimes in enormous and horrifying ways. Sometimes through wars and frightening headlines. Sometimes through technology changing faster than we can keep up with it. And sometimes simply through the ordinary changes of life, children growing up, families changing, people moving away, people we love no longer being here.

There is so much we cannot keep the same.

But while the world continues to change around us, there is comfort in returning to something familiar. Something that reminds us who we are, what we value and who will be standing beside us.

Twenty-five years ago, I learned that the world could be terrifying.

And the next day, the Apple Festival began.

2001 Murphysboro Apple Festival
Miss Apple Festival Queen Contestants and Crowd Sing The National Anthem
September 13, 2001