25 Years Later: Never Forget

 It doesn't feel like it's been twenty-five years. In lots of ways, it feels so much more recent.

Personally, I remember Chuck leaving the night before to go to a work conference in Minneapolis.  Sitting next to him on his flight was a middle eastern man who was continuously reading The Quran and praying.  I am not going to make any assumptions. However, remember this: One of the hijacked flights originated in Minneapolis.  Did the gentleman have something to do with the hijacking? We will never know. Still, Chuck was unsettled after the fact.

That morning began like any other in our household.  Our oldest was in high school and our middle child was in middle school. They left together because school started earlier for them. I was getting ready for work and our son was watching Sports Center, as he did most mornings. He called his friend to see if he was riding with us. His friend asked if he was watching the news, which was strange. They usually both watched Sports Center and talked about it on the way to school. We switched the channels just as the second plane hit the Twin Towers.  Our son said, "What's that movie? Can we go see it?"  With the color draining from my face, I said, "Buddy. That's no movie." 

I took the boys to school. Then, I needed to put eyes on our girls. I first drove to the high school. Our oldest was outside, at marching band practice.  She wondered why there were so many jet trails going in circles.  We later learned that it was planes circling the Kansas City airport, waiting to land, because all flights had been grounded. I next went to the middle school. The students were still in the Commons because the bell hadn't rung for classes to begin. I sat down at our daughter's table. The principal, who was a good friend, came out and was making a cutting motion at his throat, telling me not to say anything, He didn't want to panic the students. We both knew the school was a safe place for them all. I told him I just wanted to put eyes on her.  One of her friends said she heard there was a bomb.  I could tell her, with certainty, that it wasn't a bomb.

I went to work. I don't remember teaching that day. We were all listening for information and trying to keep our composure. When school let out, there was a line of cars at the gas pumps. It was like a scene out of Doomsday Preppers. It was so surreal.

After everyone got home from school, we tried our best to find some normalcy, but it was hard. Every channel was covering the hijackings. You know the saying, "When it rains, it pours?" That was what was happening at our house. Chuck was stranded in Minneapolis because all forms of mass transportation had been halted. As luck would have it, our indoor cat got out. She was declawed and couldn't defend herself, so our middle kiddo was frantic! As the four of us combed the neighborhood, looking for her, our son jumped up to grab the rim of a neighbor's basketball rim. It was the moving kind, on wheels. He pulled the whole goal down on himself, the front of his head hitting the concrete and the back of his head being hit by the goal. Now I had no husband home and no way of knowing if or how he would get home, one kid crying because of her missing cat, and another with a concussion!

And then there were the first responders. Having a brother who was a firefighter/paramedic at that time, and now a retired fire captain, made this even harder to fathom. As people were running from the towers and the Pentagon, the first responders were running toward the catastrophe.  Those people are, and forever will be, heroes! So many of them perished that day. So many of them have succumbed to their injuries and the toxic dust. So many continue to struggle with their exposure and their mental health. My heart goes out to all of them! I am reminded of a quote from Mr. Rogers: 

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”

I saw a report on the news where there is now a college course teaching students, who were not alive at the time, about September 11th. It should be the responsibility of those who remember to teach the ones who were not yet born. I am grateful to this educator for teaching others about this day in history.  Let us never forget!