Remembering 9-11-01
11 Sep
I’m writing this because I want people to remember this day. I want folks from future generations to KNOW that this tragedy happened. There should be no denying that on 09-11-01, Osama bin Laden and his cronies attacked the United States of America on our own soil. While they may have murdered nearly 3,000 American Citizens & guests of the United States representing virtually every color, creed, religion, affiliation who were going to work, contributing to society. I want those folks who are in college now who are wondering why people are “still mad about this 9 years later” and their professors who want to declare defeat say “we should just move on” to UNDERSTAND WHY WE’RE ANGRY and WHY WE MUST PRESS ON despite your ignorance.
To Osama bin Laden: May karma punch you square in the face!
On 9-11-01 I was working for a company called SuperCoups, which was based in Avon, MA, just outside of Boston. I worked from home in Huntington Beach, CA a lot. (For those who aren’t familiar it’s just south of the Seal Beach Weapons station and the Los Alamitos Airfield. We are a target rich environment.) Our office was fairly new, but since my boss was going to be in MA for meetings with 5 of our franchisees, I was going to work from home.
I woke up, staggered back to my computer, turned it on and saw the homepage, MSN. There was a photo of a plane crashing into a building. I thought it was a CGI special effect for an upcoming movie. Then my boss’s email message appeared: Two planes hit World Trade Center. Go to CNN NOW!!!!!
I didn’t. I bolted into the living room where I saw my mom stoically standing in front of the television. She was an RN. Stoic is what they do. She turned to me and said, “Do you have to go to the office today?” I thought, “Why wouldn’t I?” It hadn’t registered that we were under attack, rather, I thought it was just a horrific accident.
Then the Pentagon was struck. No longer was this an accident. (I found out much later a friend of a friend was IN the Pentagon at the time. She worked with Secretary Rumsfeld. She was okay, but no one heard from her.)
My initial reaction, as cliche as this sounds, was to put out our flag. It seemed like an appropriate response. One my grandmother, who worked at US Steel during WWII, would’ve done. So, I did it. Oddly, I thought, “will this make my home a target?” I looked at my mom and she just nodded. SO out that flag went. And as I put out our flag, other flags started appearing down our street. It’s what we do.
Then, my phone rang. It was my boss telling me to stay put. Not go to the office until he got back and to get my co-worker out of there. I did. Amazingly, she wanted to stay. I remember firmly saying, ”You need to go home and go within 10 minutes. We don’t know if freeways are going to be closed, or what.”
I remember reaching out to a friend’s sister who lived in NY. We were all trying different forms of communication to get word back. I don’t remember much beyond that morning. I don’t know if I went riding that afternoon. I remember someone quipping, “So the BIG news from this week is: Dave cut his ponytail, Papillon overnighted in ZaCooler (a nickname we gave the metal box stall where horses would get placed if the workers were tending to a stall ala Hogan’s Heroes.) and a bunch of maniacs brought down the World Trade Center.” Nothin’ like looking on “the Bright side of Life”!
My job for the next week was to monitor the news and email reports to my boss. Apparently they weren’t getting news reports. The five franchisees told me later, “The only news we got was from you. We couldn’t get information where we were.”
Getting the guys home was another nerve racking ordeal. They drove from RI to BOS to CT to find a flight headed West. Typically, we flew RI to Chicago, O’Hare to SNA when we returned from Boston. The flight they took involved multiple stops that zig zagged them across the US. I remember pleading with my boss: Please just drive home. We have places where you can STAY. Get to IL and my cousins will put you up, then to CO and my friends will. Nope, they flew. (It was the ONE thing the American Public could do to thumb their nose at our attackers. We’re going to remain calm and carry on.)
I was glad to have a President who could let himself get angry, who could eschew those who would have him engage in worthless diplomacy, who would act on behalf of those who could no longer. Watching the footage of him in the classroom in Florida all these years later, I think he showed great composure in front of those kids. I wondered what they thought. I don’t know that I would be able to. You could see his demeanor change when Andrew Card leaned in to tell him it was a terrorist attack, not an accident. He showed remarkable poise and a father’s heart when a member of the media asked him if he’d like to comment on that morning’s events — IN FRONT OF THE KIDS! He just said, “Not here.” I believe God chooses the right person for the right task at the right time. I think that’s true of GWB.
Other images/acts I remember from that period:
Arnold Schwartzenegger carrying out a HUGE American flag. I remember that he held it at the BOTTOM of the staff, not an easy feat, so it would be as high as he could carry it. The flag may have been out of the shot so he lowered it so the camera could capture it. It was heartening.
American flags flew everywhere — homes, cars, offices, you name it!
People were kinder, more polite, gentler with each other after the tragedy.
The kindness of neighbors, including the folks in Canada who took in thousands of stranded passengers during the Ground Stop. (Thanks again for the assist, Canada!)
That said, I remember what happened on 9-11-01. I always will. If mine is the lone voice crying out for justice 9 years from now, so be it. No one should deny that this tragedy occurred. It did. I lived it. The ungrateful, arrogant coward who practices terrorism, not Islam, will have to face two forms of justice… earthly and heavenly. For his crimes against humanity, he should have to answer.
May God Continue to Richly Bless the United States of America.
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