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?