9-11

9-11 is drawing near again. This time it's the ten year anniversary and I find myself glued to the TV screen as if it were all happening again.

When 9-11 originally occurred, I was home from the library on a week's vacation, younger son had a girlfriend staying over, because her parents were mad at her over an accident she had the day before, older son was at work delivering furniture in the around the DC Metro area and I hav no idea where the husband was. He doesn't figure into these memories till later. It was an ordinary morning before I got out of bed but once I did, the girlfriend came flying up the stairs to tell me about the first tower being hit. We went into my craft room where I turned on the tv and booted up the computer just as the second plane hit. Girlfriend was screaming and I was trying to calm her. She eventually went downstairs only to come flying up again at the new of the Pentagon and there was no consoling her. Her father had an appointment at the Pentagon that day.He wasn't military but a computer guy who had something to do with the creating of JAVA, or something.

The girlfriend could barely string together enough words for a sentence and didn't want to call home because her mother would be hysterical. I convinced her to call only to learn that girlfriend's accident had shaken up her dad so much that he had cancelled his appointment and was still home. He still didn't want to talk to her but he was safe. Meanwhile my oldest son was driving around the DC metro area delivering furniture.

One of my sons' friends showed up and then another. The second one wanted to call his mother in Bosnia but didn't know if he should or not. He was living with his father down the street but the father had no idea of the meaning of the word nurturing. So I told the friend to call his mother and use our phone and not worry about the price.

That day I seem to be telling people not to worry and trying to calm down while my guts were in a knot and oldest son was DRIVING AROUND THE DC METRO AREA DELIVERING FURNITURE. The day stretched to a week where I couldn't even leave the house without girlfriend tagging along or some other friend showing up in a panic. I didn't mind being the mother but I desperately wanted someone to mother me if just for a moment or two but my own mother was too self centered and I didn't have it in me to call her and beg for some reassurance.

The worst came when I tried to talk to my husband about it and I started to cry. He looked at me as if I had lost my mind and asked why i was so upset, I didn't know anyone who was killed.

Maybe that's why I watch these shows, it gives me an excuse to cry, even when the husband asks why I watch these things if it's going to make me cry... it's like an abcess, I have to keep at it till th epoison is out of my system.

As the years passed what made me cry the hardest was the random act of kindness I saw on the screen. One dust covered hand reaching out to help another, a man staggering down the street under the weight of the person he was trying to support while he fought to get her away and safe. People handing out water bottles or leaving tributes at fire stations. Then there were the stories. One woman was in a wheelchair and mustered where the disabled were to muster in the towers during an emergency. One of her co-workers passed by, questioned why she was there and scooped her up, carrying her down who knows how many flights to safety. The man who sat with a hysterical crying stranger too overrought to get himself out and sat with the stranger till the towers fell and both were lost. People helping people even it it was ahug or a comforting pat on the back. Even now that brings tears.

Last night I learned of stories I never knew of before. One involves Brian Clark. I've known part of Mr Clark's story since the first. he saved a stranger a man named Stanley Pranath by getting Mr. Pranath out of his ruined office. There was furniture and ceiling tiles and who knows what all blocking Mr Pranath's path. Mr Clark heard him calling for help and stopped to help by hauling Mr pranath up and over the debris. In face, he pulled so hard that he fell over with Mr. Pranath on top of him. Mr Clark looked at Mr Pranath and said"Hi, I'm Brian." Really what else could he say and after Mr. Pranath introuduced himself, Mr Clark suggested they get out of there.

So that was the story, two strangers now friends surviving. But wait. There is more to Mr Clark's story. As he and Mr. Pranath were heading down they came upon a security officer sitting with a badly injured man of the 45th floor. The security guy did NOT want to leave the man and made Mr. Clark promise to call out somehow and to let the powers that be know that there was an injured man on the 45th floor. Cell phones weren't working properly and so a land line it would have to be. Unbelievably Mr Clark found a land line and CALLED FOR HELP. Not for him but for the security guard and since even land lines were fouled he was on whold for more than three minutes till he finally told the dispatcher, ever so politely, that he really needed to get out of the building and hung up. I now have a hero!

And then there was the blind man and his guide dog, Salty. When the plane hit and all hell broke loose, Salty ran around the office then came back to his person. The man (I don't remember his name) harnessed Salty and off they went to the stairs. It was hard going down the stairs with a guide dog in the best of times but now there were crowds and firemen trying to come up and Salty was getting squished and trampled because guide dogs travel at their person's side so the blind man did the only thing he could, let go of the harness and told Stalty to go. Salty did, only to turn right around and come back to his person and TOGETHER the negotiated the stairs and made it our safely. Bu that's not the end of Salty's story. When the towers fell, the blind man's hand tightened on the harness as Salty pulled him foreward butting people out of the way, clearing a path for his person. Since then, Salty went over that Rainbow Bridge but I bet that day there were also balloon, butterflies and a "Good Boy Salty" waiting for him. So I have another hero, or would that be two? The man who loved his dog enough to let him go and the dog who loved his master so much that he wouldn't go.

Maybe someday I won't cry when someone as much as mentions 9-11. I'll put at the fear, horror and pure hot grief behind me. Yes, I did NOT know anyone who died that day except for some part of me that shriveled up and died at such a horrific deed. Maybe I'll stop crying when I am finally convinced that everyone who died that day, went on to their reward and are not haunting the site of their deaths. That would be too cruel. Is it any wonder I like animals best?

Blue Bodkinxz

So now we lost our new puppy to parvo. I want to scream. I want to bang my head against the wall until my brains rattle. I want to run away from home but have no destination in mind. I suppose I could live under the nearby bridge. I would be close to running water but fear I have too many craft supplies to take with me and I don't know if I can baker polymer clay over a campfire.

There was a lot more going on and around when Patty was dying that I have not told anyone. Ok, I told one person via email because she has promised that if I whine too much she will simply delete the message. All I know is I became disillusioned and now know who is what. It's bad enough that I'm depressed but so is Charlie and oldest son. We didn't have Patty long but I fell in love with her the moment she was put into my arms. As if a dead puppy wasn't bad enough the head of the rescue group left a message on my cell phone insinuating that I fell down because I didn't take Patty to the vet when I was supposed to. I supposedly told the foster mother that if Patty's symptoms got worse, I'd take her right to the vet. What symptoms? Anyhow I responded but her email bounced and I will NOT talk to her because I do not need to defend myself. She's the one that adopted out two sick puppies to me.

I am done. Well and truly done and so broken not even Charlie can mend me totally though, bless his furry heart, he does try. I've made a vet appointment for him tomorrow just to have him checked out. I also want them to see what a bruiser he is becoming because when I left with Patty when she was diagnosed, I wasn;t the only one crying and Charlie, if he does nothing else, manages to cheer people up.

And now for a secret. As soon as we get bills paid and money saved, I may walk out on this marriage because I am done. I have had enough and want no more. It may never happen, of course, we have never had money save dup because of a certain someone who could not hold a job and whose ego far surpasses the size of the world and who goes out of his way to make me smaller and smaller each day.

I am n ot a happy camper and so I'll fold my tent and steal away for now.

Never rob a bank when there are old folk about

We were heading to Aldi's but, as with everything we seem to do, we couldn't go just to Aldi's. First we had to go to the post office and then our bank and since the husband went the wrong way to go to Aldi's he got pissed at me, turned around and headed the way we should have gone in the first place, only f we had we wouldn't have had our adventure.

There we are driving down the main street of a small town near us when three guys come flying out of a small bank. chased by an old guy who was followed by another old guy shouting, CALL 911 IT'S A BANK ROBBERY! There is an alleyway beside the bank and I see the bad guys, 3, running along and suddenly one of them throw the money into the air, it scatters everywhere and they keep going. So what does the Old Pooh do? Before I know it, we're in a high speed chase with us doing the chasing. THink Mr Toad's wild ride. The Old Pooh had driven around the corner and then down another street to see if we could spot them, and we did, getting into their car. Off we went, with the Old Pooh intent over the steering wheel and me shouting out the license plate number trying to fix it in my head till I could write it down, while digging in my purse for paper and pen and waiting for gunfire.

You see, I was once head teller in a bank that was robbed, with bad guys jumping over the counter and guns held to my head. I am not a fan of bank robberies or guns. But all of that didn't matter today. So thats why I was waiting for gun fire.

No gun fire though we did corner them on a dead end street only 911 didn't work on the cell phones and today's bad guys managed to get around us. HOWEVER the purse of all junk held both paper and pens and we , ok , I managed to write down the license plate number.

We lost the bad guys at the dead end had to turn around street so we headed back to the bank. The cops were there already and I got out with my license plate scrap of paper, with the number written in yellow highlighter, it was the first pen I grabbed and handed it to the first officer in a uniform. I told him I had the license plate number and he kind of blinked at me the looked at the paper. Then I tell him that the bad guys threw the money away in the alley and the next thing I know the cops are scrabbling around trying to gather up the bills. I wonder if anyone would have bothered to even walk that alley if I hadn' seen the bad guys throw the money.

I was interviewed and reinterviewed and was now known as the one who got the license plate number There was a witness statement to write, mine took two pages.... no surprise there. One of the officers told me that he had seen the car come tearing past and was going to follow it only he got the call for the bank robbery and didn;t know they were connected. If I had managed to get through to 911 on the cell phone they would have known but alas. alack no such luck.

I kinda felt badly for the driver of the car. When we had them boxed in, his round baby face looked sad while the guy in the passenger seat looked pissed and pulled up his face mask again.I could only assume that they never thought that they were being chased by old farts. And one of the old farts looks like Santa. Imagine, running from Santa. I guess we know who's only getting coal in his stocking this year.

So we wrote out our statements, mine took two sheets, and then went around the corner for lunch and a soda where we were then met by a detective who interviewed us more. No FBI this time unlike MY bank robbery decades ago but I like to think that this is, in some small way me getting back at those long ago bank robbers.

I do have a bit of a souvenier, A bit of crime scene tape for my journal. Real police crime scene tape. WOOHOO>.

I had known that the Old Pooh's phone took pictures and if he knew how to work it, I should have taken pics of the bad guys but I didn't. Hopefully the license will be enough.

I don;t know if the media ever showed up. I certainly was NOT going to have my face on TV but I will watch the 5 o'clock news tonight but, for now, I'm heading out to a thrift store for treasures.

Sure beats going to work.