In Remembrance and Hope

I have many memories of 9/11/2001. I remember the day very vividly. I was working in my cubicle, wasting time, and generally just goofing off. My sister called me and said a plane had flown into the World Trade Center. She didn't know if I had heard or not, but she said it was all over the news. I turned on my radio and heard the reports rolling in. When I heard a second plane had hit the other tower, something definitely was wrong. When I heard about the Pentagon, I had a terrible sinking feeling. My friend in Poughkeepsie AIM'd me and said he heard planes were falling out of the sky in Washington DC. and wondering if this was WWIII. One of my co-workers had a small black & white TV in his office, a radio/TV combo. The picture was grainy, hard to see, but I, and my fellow co-workers, watched the first tower fall. All I kept saying was "it's coming down, it's coming down." Sandy, Donna and Linda were in tears. Mike couldn't hold them back either. My office mate Doug kept muttering "I can't believe this." Dean, as always, was perfectly stoic. I swear the guy's a rock.

I left for home shortly there after. I just felt the need to be with my family, to protect them. All the while coming to terms with the fact there was nothing that I could do to protect them. I was powerless to save them from anything. Let me tell you, that feeling is a real kick in the gut. The two people who mean most to you in the world, your wife and daughter, and you are powerless to protect them. My little baby girl. All I could think to say was "it'll be alright." As I turned down my street, my neighbor Judy had put her American flag out. That was the first American flag I saw on 9/11. Mine joined her's shortly. As I sat, dialed into the Corp. network from home, I watched the tragedy unfurl, in real time on TV. Those images are seared into my brain. Two days later we celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary, we went out for dinner. At the restaurant, the TVs blared images, the names of the dead scrolled along the screen, the dead being pulled from the ruins. For our daughter's sake, we tried to make it a pleasant evening. But the images, the knowledge, was always there. Just a radio or TV button away.

The following Sunday at Church, the organist played "America the Beautiful." As I looked down at my little girl, watching her sing, all I could think of was the death and destruction that my generation and my parent's generation had left for her future. It was all I could do to keep my composure. What did it mean? What would happen next? When would the other shoe drop? Was America in the process of turning into the West Bank and Gaza strip? What......?

But through out all the murder and mayhem, I saw many other scenes. On 9/11 I saw a reporter talking with a pickup truck full of big, burly construction workers in Manhattan. The one speaking was wearing an American flag decorated bandana. He was pissed. He said the call came out for volunteers to help search for victims. But they were turned away and he was not happy about it. They were turned away because they had so many volunteers already, they were getting in the way. I saw a report from the local Red Cross. A reporter was talking to some one at the back of a very long line. He said the Red Cross workers told him it would probably be at least an eight hour wait, and chances are they'd be out of blood bags by then. He didn't care he was waiting anyway. No one was going to stop him from doing what ever he could. Even if it turned out to be meaningless. I understood the feeling completely.

In the following weeks and months other stories came out. The absolutely courageous story of flight 93 going down in Pa., and why it went down. A group of passengers had decided they would not be used as pawns by scum, and they'd decided they were going to do something about it even if it killed them. It did, but think of the many more deaths they prevented? The story about Father Mike Judge, the NYFD chaplain, who was giving the last rights to a fellow fireman when the tower fell on him. I learned later, the NYFD had recovered his helmet, repaired it and had presented it to Pope John Paul II as a tribute. I heard the story of Abe Zelmanowitz who, rather than evacuate the Trade Center, decided to stay with a friend who was a quadriplegic and could not be evacuated because the elevators were knocked out. Abe decided that his friend would not die alone. That story still makes me cry.

I also saw images of flags everywhere. I saw yellow ribbons everywhere. I saw people pulling together. I saw Hollywood actually have the intelligence to just shut the f*ck up for once. I saw millions raised from every day people. I saw the obituaries from local people in our upstate NY community who had moved to the city. I saw pledge drives. I saw relief supply drives. I saw the county in which I live raise more than $1 for every resident, in one day. When we went to the local mall to drop off a check, I saw people from my Church there collecting it. I heard flag lapel pins were on sale, all proceeds for the Red Cross. I bought $20 worth and gave them to my fellow coworkers, the ones I'd watched the towers fall with. They wanted to pay for them, but I said next time you see a fund raiser, give them the money, they need it more than I do. I remember giving the last one away, the one I bought for me, to my father in law.

I watched the President at Ground Zero, yelling into his bull horn '...they'll hear from all of us.' I saw the first game played at Yankee Stadium. The Yankees had asked for, and received permission from the commissioner, to wear NYFD hats for the rest of the season. I watched that tattered old flag from the top of the World Trade Center being carried into the Olympics. I read that fire depts all over the world were observing a moment of silence in unison to memorize the dead of the NYFD. I saw it all. Heard it all. Remembered it all. I can't forget it if I tried. And believe me, there are times I've tried.

9/11 Proved to me just how terribly, terribly vulnerable I, my family, my friends, all of us were. It left me despondent. Was humanity even worthy to exist on this planet so thoughtfully provided by the good Lord? Questions. Millions of questions. But there were no answers. After a while, it started to puddle in my head. Then it turned to anger. Not just mad, upset anger. But rather the kind that makes your gut wrench. The kind that makes your blood boil. The kind that simmers over a long period into that most dangerous, self righteous kind. I'm talking Old Testament, lightning bolts out of the sky kind of anger. The kind that turns village whackos into Biblical prophets. Fortunately, between the kindness I saw surrounding 9/11 relief effort, and the weekly advice of the kindly old priest who'd married my and my wife, and baptized my daughter, I got over it. Mostly.

But the point is, what does the it all mean now, four years after that cowardly sneak attack that scared my country and nation? In the past four years I have learned something very important. I've learned my father was right. I've learned the corny John Wayne movies are right. I've learned the old veterans who march every year in the Memorial Day procession are right. I've learned Bill Whittle is right. I've learned, by and large, Rush Limbaugh is right. America is a large, vast country. Its populated by people from all over the world. I can't even count all the countries my ancestors came from on one hand. We are a different breed of people. A melting pot that contains both the best and the worst of all humanity. The motto of the statue of liberty is completely wrong. America will accept your weak, your poor, your huddled masses. But they don't come often. By and large, it takes guts to get to America. It takes people willing to work hard, to fight if necessary, to do what ever it takes to succeed. It takes people willing to work three jobs while taking night classes at the local community college. It takes people who are proud, upright, and have guts. It takes people who are willing to do the dirty work, as long as it helps them achieve their dreams. And if it helps others achieve their dreams, all the better.

America, real America isn't a free ride. Sure there's welfare. But that's not for real Americans. Real Americans want to win. They want to succeed. They want a brighter future. They want to see their children happy. They want grand kids, and plenty of them. They want good times, carefree times, and they are not afraid of the work required to achieve them. They are willing to put their lives on hold, and join the Army, the Airforce, the Navy, and even the Marines. They are willing to put their lives on the line, and even sacrifice them, if it provides a brighter future for themselves and their fellow Americans. Imagine, some kid from Out House Iowa is willing to fight to ensure my daughter has a chance at a future, even though their family isn't in danger. They're willing to do that for my daughter. My little girl. Its mind blowing. They are willing to take a chance, that by helping to make the future brighter for some unknown family in Iraq or Afghanistan, they just might help make a brighter and more safe future for me, my daughter, and some guy selling oranges on a street corner in LA. To me, that represents a true American.

What 9/11 has meant to me, is life is not only about the past. Its about the future. In the past we were safe, protected by two oceans. That was the past, that was my parents America, and the America of my childhood. 9/11 Proved it isn't so. But the future remains out there. Just above the horizon, constantly changing. Anything can happen. What matters is who the future of America is, and what they are willing to do to ensure the future for their children and their children's children. And watching America's young in action has filled me with a sense of optimism that words can't describe. They are not only willing to do what needs to be done, they are doing it. I have three young relatives in the service now. One is on his second tour in Afghanistan, flying supply ships off a carrier. I have another who's just finishing up basic training with the US Marines. I have another, and I'm not sure exactly what he's doing, but cut me some slack, I have a really huge family. But they care about the future, and they want to see it safe. They care. That's the point. To quote President John F. Kennedy "where the strong are just and the weak secure". That's America.

Being a parent, all I can do is my best to raise my daughter, and hope I can instill in her all the hopes and dreams of every generation of American before me. Work hard, play by the rules, get a little further than your parents, and hope your kids get a little further than you. And I see it happening in America's youth. Its a big dangerous world out there. But we're in good hands. We're in the hands of Americans, raised by Americans. They understand we all can do it. Because they can do it. Its a beautiful day today, just like 9/11. But as the afternoon winds down, I have hope. Hope that I didn't know existed four years ago. But it exists for me today. I see it in the brave young men and women stepping up to the plate. And I see it in the eyes of my brave young daughter. The one who had the courage to sing out America the Beautiful that Sunday four years ago when I couldn't, hope and courage I lacked. But I have it now.

[09/15/05: Author's Note: I received this quote in an email a few days after completing the above essay. Leave it to me to spend several paragraphs describing what someone can sum up so eloquently in one sentence.]

"Courage is the first of all the virtues because if you haven't courage, you may not have the opportunity to use any of the others." —Samuel Johnson