I know you're busy today. Church. House chores. The first Sunday of the NFL season (i.e.The Campaign for Indifference in 2011 for Dallas Cowboys fans.). And I'm sure many of you are observing this historic day. Maybe a friend or loved one or colleague died on September 11, 2001. Perhaps you know of someone directly impacted by that day's happenings. Maybe you weren't affected but feel heartened by all that took place on that fateful Tuesday.
What today really means. What does it mean to you? I'll spare you the mushiness. It is simply for me, above all else, about appreciating what I have in front of me. Life. I woke up at a decent hour on the morning of September 11, 2001, but was literally oblivious to the world while I showered, got dressed, ate breakfast, read the paper and prepared for another typical long Tuesday at the office. I hadn't turned on the TV or radio. I hadn't checked my email yet. It was a crisp, beautiful morning here in San Antonio, blue skies, really couldn't have been any better weather-wise.
Then my cell phone went off. The number came in from my family's house. At that time, I was apprehensive anytime I got a call or email from my family's house here in town. I was cynical enough to think any such call or email would be about my mom or grandfather or some other close immediate family member being sick -- sick enough suddenly to warrant a trip to the ER. My mother, specifically, was a diabetic, dealing with circulation problems in her legs, arthritis and anxiety (she had been a manic depressive). Upon answering the phone, I heard my mother. She was inconsolable.
"They're bombing the World Trade Center," she cried. I thought to myself, "Who? Why? How? What's this? Is she exaggerating something?" This self-proclaimed news junkie had absolutely no clue what was happening that morning until maybe 9:30 local time. I turned on the TV. To show the gravity of the situation, no matter what station I flipped onto, the images were the same. Giant columns of smoke rising from Manhattan Island. Both towers had already collapsed. Firefighters were tending to the Pentagon. Cable TV news screen crawls had already become permanent fixtures. I pulled out blank videotapes and just began recording away, thinking...who knows what I was thinking then.
I drove to my family's home to see my loved ones. It was there for the first time I heard someone - my grandfather - utter the words "this is worse than Pearl Harbor." One of my aunts thought maybe this was the start of World War III. My mother lay in bed, still sobbing in a dark room. I told her everything would be fine. I did my best, as a loyal, loving son, to console my mother. We didn't know anyone who died that day. We really had no personal connection to it. But seeing the tears in my mom's eyes, I knew that something horrendous beyond scope had taken place and shook us all to our very core. I told my mom the people who truly loved her were still here on Earth with her and that, despite the attacks, we'd be fine. We, as a family, would be together strong and well.
I worked a long day and night helping to lay out the newspaper while monitoring the pre-social media Internet and whatever televised news I could find on the job. Once I got home that night, around midnight, I collapsed onto the floor and cried. Don't know why, really. Maybe I felt there was a need to sob with everyone else in the world.
I went outside briefly, sat on my porch and looked up into the night sky. I figured tomorrow, September 12, was another day. Mindy and I traveled to the northeast three summers ago, including a few days in New York where we briefly visited Ground Zero, where work crews were then busy prepping the solemn site for new construction. We reflected on the place, the remnants of a true American landmark. It was a cathartic experience.
Whereas 3,000 people who had plans with their families and friends and jobs September 10 no longer existed, the rest of us remaining on Earth have had to carry on and make the best of our lives. To love and find purpose in this world. To ensure that the level of hatred which drove the terrorists can never surpass our capacity for love, compassion and understanding. Some things have changed the past 10 years. What makes us positively human, for the better, haven’t.
That's all the seasonal blog updates for now. Peace out, amigos.
