I hate when I start to see it on the calendar. But, it's that time of year again. The anniversary of September 11, is here. Millions of Americans go through the memories, the pain and the sorrow for what is easily the most tragic happening in our nations history. Each anniversary I go through all the emotions, all the memories, and all of the pain. I didn't know anyone that was there, or that was directly affected by the tragedies in the World Trade Center or the Pentagon, but it's still very painful to remember. It was like an unreal moment. It was surreal and unimaginable that what we all saw on TV was reality for thousands and thousands of Americans. We all saw the ash covered survivors, the people walking the streets of Manhattan, holding pictures of loved ones that they hadn't heard from. I remember the network anchors talking about how all the hospitals were stocked to the gills with doctors and nurses and staff. And that all of the blood banks had gotten an unreal amount of donations. But all of the effort, the personnel, and the blood went unused. Have you ever heard anything sadder than that? Most of the people in the World Trade center never had a chance. And the firemen and police that went in the towers and climbed the stairs to their deaths, never would have imagined that they never had a chance either. I love the stories of determination and dedication of our fire and police and emergency responders that day. I read their stories of heroism and bravery for months after 9-11. I cried and shook my hands at God and prayed more than I'd ever prayed for strangers in my lifetime. What a horrible horrible day in history.
I remember the strength that our country showed in those days and weeks and months later. I've never been more proud of America than I was watching us rededicate ourselves to our country, to the flag and to one another. I'll never forget the memorials and the speeches people gave at them. I'll never forget the World Series that took place that year in New York and Arizona. Yankee stadium became patriot central and that series was one of the best I've ever seen. And the 9th inning heroics the Yanks displayed those two nights in a row were simply unbelievable. Poor B.K. Kim. He deserved better. But the D-Backs won in the end, and they deserved it. The national anthem and God Bless America were tear jerkers for sure. When President Bush threw a perfect strike at the beginning of Game 1, it was probably his best moment of his presidency. Poor George Bush, he wasn't prepared to deal with something as vast and sad as the 9-11 terrorist attacks. None of us were though. Maybe we should have been more prepared.
I remember the strength that our country showed in those days and weeks and months later. I've never been more proud of America than I was watching us rededicate ourselves to our country, to the flag and to one another. I'll never forget the memorials and the speeches people gave at them. I'll never forget the World Series that took place that year in New York and Arizona. Yankee stadium became patriot central and that series was one of the best I've ever seen. And the 9th inning heroics the Yanks displayed those two nights in a row were simply unbelievable. Poor B.K. Kim. He deserved better. But the D-Backs won in the end, and they deserved it. The national anthem and God Bless America were tear jerkers for sure. When President Bush threw a perfect strike at the beginning of Game 1, it was probably his best moment of his presidency. Poor George Bush, he wasn't prepared to deal with something as vast and sad as the 9-11 terrorist attacks. None of us were though. Maybe we should have been more prepared.
September 11, 2001 was a sunny day in Ohio. My first daughter Hannah was only six weeks old at the time. That morning I had a job interview with an internet company that was coming to town and the interview was at what would become their new offices in Covington Kentucky, just across the river from downtown Cincinnati. The interview took place in an office building over looking the river. I met with the General Manager for around an hour. At around ten o'clock her boss came in and we spoke briefly. But he was distracted and told us why. He said that a plane had crashed into the Trade Center building. And that was really all he told us, and then he left us alone. Half an hour later the GM and I were walking through the mostly unfurnished office space when we came upon her boss again and he told us that another plane had hit the Trade Center and that it was being called a terrorist attack. He was off to see what he could see on TV from a cafe down the street. I thanked the GM for her time and I went out to my car to drive home. I turned on the radio and heard a national broadcast eminating from New York. I had the radio tuned to a sports talk station at the time. Now, mind you, I had no idea the gravity of the situation. I pictured a couple of 4 seat airplanes crashing into the towers. I had no idea they were big commercial passenger jets that had been hijacked. So I switched the radio from one pre-set station to the next, and it was all the same broadcast. I immediately called home. My wife answered and she started telling me about all that she was seeing on TV and that the first tower had come down. I said "what do you mean come down??" She explained to me exactly what had happened, and how the tower had seemed to turn into dust and fell straight down. I was home in twenty more minutes and sat in front of the T.V. for most of the next day or two. I'm sure most of you have similar stories. I know that I couldn't stop watching it at all. It was horrible to see the people on the streets with pictures of their loved ones. It was horrible to see the footage over and over again. But I couldn't stop watching it. The news had estimated at first that maybe ten or twenty thousand people could be dead in New York. Even though eventually the number came down to just less than three thousand, it could have been so much worse. I watched the candle-lit vigils, saw the war torn streets of the financial district. The stories of no phones and no electricity were outside the realm of possibility for me.
And so it went for weeks. And ground zero continued to smolder and smoke. There were no stories of survivors. No stories of any hope. Magor League baseball resumed after a week or so and that really seemed to lift the spirits of the nation. It seemed like every night the Yankees and the Mets were hosting someone or some group that somehow was connected to the tragedy. And everywhere we looked, we saw American flags and stars and stripes. The nation was strong, we were all together. But the world changed around us. Distrust was high. Terrorism was suspected everywhere, and the anthrax scare made its way through major cities. They found traces of Anthrax in Mayor Giulliani's office and in post offices and government offices. Oh the times they were a changin', and rightfully so. Air traffic eventually began again but the airports became more like military posts, which can really only be a good thing. September 11, 2001 was the end of innocence for this nation.
My Pop was born and raised in the Bronx, New York. Excluding the time he was in the Navy for a couple of years and at Valparaiso Law School after college, he lived in New York until he moved to Ohio when he was around 40. Me and my brother and sisters were lucky enough to go to New York quite often growing up. New York was and is and always will be a wonderful city. I had been to The World Trade Center a few times. Walked by it many times. Got the subway there a few times and had eaten there a couple of times. One of the most amazing restaurants I've ever been to was on the 106th and 107th floors of the North Tower in the WTC, and was called Windows On The World. This restaurant was one of the most respected restaurants in New York and therefore one of the most respected in the world. In 2000, it brought in revenues of $37 million. Thats a big, big number. My Pop took us all there for lunch one day, we had to get dressed up. He wouldn't have been allowed in there without a jacket, nor would I have been. I was probably around 13 at the time. I remember the views from the windows, it was amazing. You could see for miles. You looked down on the tops of the buildings around you. You looked down at Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty seemed like one of those lawn jockeys from there. I even remember what I ate. Remember, this was 25 years ago, and I still remember the lunch I ate there. I wanted a cheeseburger. They didn't have cheeseburgers. But, they did have a "burger in a pocket". I ordered this, sounded close enough. It was a pita pocket, stuffed with loose, ground sirloin with shredded cheese, diced onion, lettuce chiffonade and chopped pickles. When we got our food, I squirted ketchup and yellow mustard down into that pita, and I remember it being absolutely fabulous. Our table was located on the exterior part of the dining room, which made it a table by a window (or table by WINDOWS!), we looked out the windows through the whole meal. The waiter told us that if we hadn't noticed already, the building actually swayed back and forth. It was designed and built to be flexible like that. Structurally, it was supposed to have the give in the steel to pitch back and forth so many feet. Odd but true. And I have no idea what the meal cost for a family of four, but whatever it was, it was worth it. Hell, I remember the non-burger 25 years later. Enough said. I love that memory. I'll always have that memory. If you want to learn more about the restaurant, just type it into google and choose "images". It was an awesome place. Until those fucking bastards knocked the whole damn building down.
I remember feeling very patriotic during Desert Storm. My buddy Mike the War Dog was in the desert at the time. I sent him some care packages. Once or twice I filled an Evian bottle with vodka for him. He got it too. He said he and a few friends got drunk in their tent those nights on my vodka. Glad I could help the morale of a few War Dogs. And the patriotism feeling came and went over the years. Don't get me wrong, I'll always love America and the freedoms she provides to me and my children. But when the world is going well, things like overt patriotism seem to be left more unsaid until Fourth of July and other holidays like that. I have been seeing some patriotic things on TV this week, and in magazines and online. I guess that's what this week leading up to the 9-11 anniversary should be about. And I know that when I think about these experiences I feel extremely patriotic. We will see more and more signs and t-shirts and ball caps that say FDNY NYPD NEVER FORGET. I won't ever forget. And I hope you dear reader will never forget where you were and what you felt and how it affected your life, that day 8 years ago, when you watched the horror on your TV set and read the horrific stories in the paper every day. I know you won't. I'm thinking of all those affected by this bloody tragedy. I thank God that I am an American and that I live here. I appreciate all the priviledge that comes with being an American. And even though the memories are not constant anymore, I will never forget all the images and stories of hope, and faith, and healing that came from the aftermath of 9-11. I will tell these stories to my girls when they are old enough. I will tell their children too.
And so it went for weeks. And ground zero continued to smolder and smoke. There were no stories of survivors. No stories of any hope. Magor League baseball resumed after a week or so and that really seemed to lift the spirits of the nation. It seemed like every night the Yankees and the Mets were hosting someone or some group that somehow was connected to the tragedy. And everywhere we looked, we saw American flags and stars and stripes. The nation was strong, we were all together. But the world changed around us. Distrust was high. Terrorism was suspected everywhere, and the anthrax scare made its way through major cities. They found traces of Anthrax in Mayor Giulliani's office and in post offices and government offices. Oh the times they were a changin', and rightfully so. Air traffic eventually began again but the airports became more like military posts, which can really only be a good thing. September 11, 2001 was the end of innocence for this nation.
My Pop was born and raised in the Bronx, New York. Excluding the time he was in the Navy for a couple of years and at Valparaiso Law School after college, he lived in New York until he moved to Ohio when he was around 40. Me and my brother and sisters were lucky enough to go to New York quite often growing up. New York was and is and always will be a wonderful city. I had been to The World Trade Center a few times. Walked by it many times. Got the subway there a few times and had eaten there a couple of times. One of the most amazing restaurants I've ever been to was on the 106th and 107th floors of the North Tower in the WTC, and was called Windows On The World. This restaurant was one of the most respected restaurants in New York and therefore one of the most respected in the world. In 2000, it brought in revenues of $37 million. Thats a big, big number. My Pop took us all there for lunch one day, we had to get dressed up. He wouldn't have been allowed in there without a jacket, nor would I have been. I was probably around 13 at the time. I remember the views from the windows, it was amazing. You could see for miles. You looked down on the tops of the buildings around you. You looked down at Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty seemed like one of those lawn jockeys from there. I even remember what I ate. Remember, this was 25 years ago, and I still remember the lunch I ate there. I wanted a cheeseburger. They didn't have cheeseburgers. But, they did have a "burger in a pocket". I ordered this, sounded close enough. It was a pita pocket, stuffed with loose, ground sirloin with shredded cheese, diced onion, lettuce chiffonade and chopped pickles. When we got our food, I squirted ketchup and yellow mustard down into that pita, and I remember it being absolutely fabulous. Our table was located on the exterior part of the dining room, which made it a table by a window (or table by WINDOWS!), we looked out the windows through the whole meal. The waiter told us that if we hadn't noticed already, the building actually swayed back and forth. It was designed and built to be flexible like that. Structurally, it was supposed to have the give in the steel to pitch back and forth so many feet. Odd but true. And I have no idea what the meal cost for a family of four, but whatever it was, it was worth it. Hell, I remember the non-burger 25 years later. Enough said. I love that memory. I'll always have that memory. If you want to learn more about the restaurant, just type it into google and choose "images". It was an awesome place. Until those fucking bastards knocked the whole damn building down.
I remember feeling very patriotic during Desert Storm. My buddy Mike the War Dog was in the desert at the time. I sent him some care packages. Once or twice I filled an Evian bottle with vodka for him. He got it too. He said he and a few friends got drunk in their tent those nights on my vodka. Glad I could help the morale of a few War Dogs. And the patriotism feeling came and went over the years. Don't get me wrong, I'll always love America and the freedoms she provides to me and my children. But when the world is going well, things like overt patriotism seem to be left more unsaid until Fourth of July and other holidays like that. I have been seeing some patriotic things on TV this week, and in magazines and online. I guess that's what this week leading up to the 9-11 anniversary should be about. And I know that when I think about these experiences I feel extremely patriotic. We will see more and more signs and t-shirts and ball caps that say FDNY NYPD NEVER FORGET. I won't ever forget. And I hope you dear reader will never forget where you were and what you felt and how it affected your life, that day 8 years ago, when you watched the horror on your TV set and read the horrific stories in the paper every day. I know you won't. I'm thinking of all those affected by this bloody tragedy. I thank God that I am an American and that I live here. I appreciate all the priviledge that comes with being an American. And even though the memories are not constant anymore, I will never forget all the images and stories of hope, and faith, and healing that came from the aftermath of 9-11. I will tell these stories to my girls when they are old enough. I will tell their children too.
No comments:
Post a Comment