I was up first that Tuesday morning and, after
going to the kitchen for something to eat and let the cats in from the garage, ventured
into the living room to turn on the TV. As a creature of habit,
this nearly every workday ritual occasionally coincided
with a smart-ass sub-conscious query while reaching for the
remote: Well, did the world blow up while I was sleeping?
But that morning, the rhetorical question came
back with an unexpected answer- it had.
The TV came on to the channel where it'd been left the night before, one of the news channels, and the first image to pop on was from a helicopter circling the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York. The buildings were both on fire and a split screen long-range shot showed a huge plume of black smoke rising from the Pentagon in Washington, DC. I dropped the remote. I couldn't believe what I was seeing; it made absolutely no sense. Was it a joke” A bad movie? No, the TV picture had "LIVE" superimposed in the corner of the shot. So it was real. Picking the remote off the floor, I hit the up and down arrows only to find the same crazy pictures on almost every channel on the dial.
The TV came on to the channel where it'd been left the night before, one of the news channels, and the first image to pop on was from a helicopter circling the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York. The buildings were both on fire and a split screen long-range shot showed a huge plume of black smoke rising from the Pentagon in Washington, DC. I dropped the remote. I couldn't believe what I was seeing; it made absolutely no sense. Was it a joke” A bad movie? No, the TV picture had "LIVE" superimposed in the corner of the shot. So it was real. Picking the remote off the floor, I hit the up and down arrows only to find the same crazy pictures on almost every channel on the dial.
What the hell was going on?
It was 6:45 a.m., California time. A deep trough of the coastal Marine layer had worked its way inland, greying out the sky over our home in Grass Valley, which is over a hundred miles from the Pacific Ocean. After endless weeks of summer sunshine, the morning overcast was as unexpected as what was on TV and contributed an eerie darkness to the start of the day. But three thousand miles away on the East Coast, it was already a beautiful day--- except for the three burning buildings.
From the back end of the house, I heard the shower stop running and a few minutes later, Amy joined me in the living room, completely unaware the country was under attack. Usually she just briefly investigates what I'm watching, then moves on; checking outside to decide what to wear, pets the cats and goes on about her routine. But that morning, I think she did a double take and stopped in front of the TV. I told her what I knew, but my explanation made about as much sense as the people on the air, all trying to scramble the events into some sort of context. But there was no context. Nobody saw this coming and nobody really knew what was going on. Besides, the horrific images spoke for themselves. Wanting to, but unable to look away, Amy and I continued watching together until, in stunned silence, we saw the first tower came crashing to the ground. As the building fell and debris cloud rose, I still kept thinking- this can't be real, it can't be happening.
But it was.
With an hour plus commute, I finally had to tear myself away from the television. It was already past 7 and I needed to be on the road by 8. Downing a granola bar and milk, I slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower before getting ready for work. At 7:30, Amy knocked on the door and over the running water I heard her say, "The second tower just came down." I don't even know if I had a reaction. Numbed to just about everything I'd seen so far that morning, without making a comment I just shut off the shower, toweled off and hurriedly got dressed. It was all too surreal: the country was clearly under some sort of attack led by an unknown enemy dressed as armed hijackers. As dreadful as that sounds, though, I wasn't scared. Not until I drove off to work.
As a 5 day a week commuter to Sac, my radio station of choice back then was KFBK, the big Sacramento news/talker, because their traffic reports were the most frequent and best. A guy named Commander Bill did the morning updates, a job he'd been doing jovially for years. But at 8:15, after a quick update on the Business 80 conditions, in a voice that sounded both grave and a little confused, he said that'd be his last report for the morning (normally there'd be 4 more). Having just received instructions from air traffic control, Commander Bill told the KFBK world he had to land immediately because all aircraft were being grounded by the FAA-- not just over Sacramento, but every commercial aircraft flying over the continental United States had been given orders to land immediately.
If that unprecedented announcement wasn't unsettling enough, there was more to come. EMF Broadcasting hadn’t yet moved to our new building in Rocklin, California, so I had over an hour to listen to the breaking news updates coming in from all over the country. Another hi-jacked plane had crashed in Western Pennsylvania. An in-bound 747 from Hawaii was on course to crash into the Golden Gate Bridge. Others were headed to Seattle's Space Needle, the Sears Tower in Chicago. The White House and Capitol Building in DC were being evacuated, reports of a possible truck bomb outside the State Department. Except for the crash of United Flight 93 near Shankesville, Pa, these were all false reports. But in the chaos and confusion of the awful morning, nobody could possibly have known that for sure.
At ten past 9, I got go to work, shut off KFBK and walked through the front door to start my day in the dumpy office complex K-love was housed in on Market Blvd, near Arco Arena. But the unfolding events of the morning proved too distracting. Instead of creating sweepers and imaging in one of the production rooms- where I was supposed to be- I kept finding myself loitering in the news room, watching the two TV monitors tuned to CNN and Fox News. I wasn't alone, though. Most of my co-workers were there too, as nobody seemed in a frame of mind to be completely focused on work. The news was simply too riveting and nobody was really sure we weren't going to be attacked again. At 1:45, we gathered as a group and prayed for each other, for the victims in New York and Washington, and for our country, and were reminded, even in the midst of the crisis, God was still in control.
But after 8 and half mostly unproductive hours, I got in my Black Jeep Wrangler and headed home. The sun had earlier burned through the overcast, leaving behind a pleasant late summer afternoon proceeding a gorgeous California sunset sure to come later. But at 5:45 on a Tuesday evening as I sped eastbound towards the foothills, I should've been in the teeth of rush hour. I-80 should've been wall to wall traffic, but I almost felt alone. I could count the other cars out there with me on both hands. Though I can't say for certain, it sure looked as if most of the Sacramento work force that day had either left early, or hadn't gone in at all.
It was 6:45 a.m., California time. A deep trough of the coastal Marine layer had worked its way inland, greying out the sky over our home in Grass Valley, which is over a hundred miles from the Pacific Ocean. After endless weeks of summer sunshine, the morning overcast was as unexpected as what was on TV and contributed an eerie darkness to the start of the day. But three thousand miles away on the East Coast, it was already a beautiful day--- except for the three burning buildings.
From the back end of the house, I heard the shower stop running and a few minutes later, Amy joined me in the living room, completely unaware the country was under attack. Usually she just briefly investigates what I'm watching, then moves on; checking outside to decide what to wear, pets the cats and goes on about her routine. But that morning, I think she did a double take and stopped in front of the TV. I told her what I knew, but my explanation made about as much sense as the people on the air, all trying to scramble the events into some sort of context. But there was no context. Nobody saw this coming and nobody really knew what was going on. Besides, the horrific images spoke for themselves. Wanting to, but unable to look away, Amy and I continued watching together until, in stunned silence, we saw the first tower came crashing to the ground. As the building fell and debris cloud rose, I still kept thinking- this can't be real, it can't be happening.
But it was.
With an hour plus commute, I finally had to tear myself away from the television. It was already past 7 and I needed to be on the road by 8. Downing a granola bar and milk, I slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower before getting ready for work. At 7:30, Amy knocked on the door and over the running water I heard her say, "The second tower just came down." I don't even know if I had a reaction. Numbed to just about everything I'd seen so far that morning, without making a comment I just shut off the shower, toweled off and hurriedly got dressed. It was all too surreal: the country was clearly under some sort of attack led by an unknown enemy dressed as armed hijackers. As dreadful as that sounds, though, I wasn't scared. Not until I drove off to work.
As a 5 day a week commuter to Sac, my radio station of choice back then was KFBK, the big Sacramento news/talker, because their traffic reports were the most frequent and best. A guy named Commander Bill did the morning updates, a job he'd been doing jovially for years. But at 8:15, after a quick update on the Business 80 conditions, in a voice that sounded both grave and a little confused, he said that'd be his last report for the morning (normally there'd be 4 more). Having just received instructions from air traffic control, Commander Bill told the KFBK world he had to land immediately because all aircraft were being grounded by the FAA-- not just over Sacramento, but every commercial aircraft flying over the continental United States had been given orders to land immediately.
If that unprecedented announcement wasn't unsettling enough, there was more to come. EMF Broadcasting hadn’t yet moved to our new building in Rocklin, California, so I had over an hour to listen to the breaking news updates coming in from all over the country. Another hi-jacked plane had crashed in Western Pennsylvania. An in-bound 747 from Hawaii was on course to crash into the Golden Gate Bridge. Others were headed to Seattle's Space Needle, the Sears Tower in Chicago. The White House and Capitol Building in DC were being evacuated, reports of a possible truck bomb outside the State Department. Except for the crash of United Flight 93 near Shankesville, Pa, these were all false reports. But in the chaos and confusion of the awful morning, nobody could possibly have known that for sure.
At ten past 9, I got go to work, shut off KFBK and walked through the front door to start my day in the dumpy office complex K-love was housed in on Market Blvd, near Arco Arena. But the unfolding events of the morning proved too distracting. Instead of creating sweepers and imaging in one of the production rooms- where I was supposed to be- I kept finding myself loitering in the news room, watching the two TV monitors tuned to CNN and Fox News. I wasn't alone, though. Most of my co-workers were there too, as nobody seemed in a frame of mind to be completely focused on work. The news was simply too riveting and nobody was really sure we weren't going to be attacked again. At 1:45, we gathered as a group and prayed for each other, for the victims in New York and Washington, and for our country, and were reminded, even in the midst of the crisis, God was still in control.
But after 8 and half mostly unproductive hours, I got in my Black Jeep Wrangler and headed home. The sun had earlier burned through the overcast, leaving behind a pleasant late summer afternoon proceeding a gorgeous California sunset sure to come later. But at 5:45 on a Tuesday evening as I sped eastbound towards the foothills, I should've been in the teeth of rush hour. I-80 should've been wall to wall traffic, but I almost felt alone. I could count the other cars out there with me on both hands. Though I can't say for certain, it sure looked as if most of the Sacramento work force that day had either left early, or hadn't gone in at all.
That whole week was a hard time for the
country. But I was fine until Friday, the National Day of Mourning. The
Memorial service was being conducted from the National Cathedral in DC and KFBK
had it on my way to work. It was a clear warm day and with
the Sacramento valley stretched out in front of me, I was only half
listening when on the radio a boys’ choir began to sing a hymn. Then I noticed
a guy on the over-crossing at Newcastle. Facing traffic, he stood at full
attention with an American flag. Holding it secure in his left hand, he saluted
each oncoming car with his right. I went under the overpass and in the
rear view mirror behind me another gentleman was facing cars
coming up the hill in the other direction. He, too, had a flag and was saluting
each vehicle.
Well that was too much. With the somber music playing, and everybody still trying to cope with the carnage in NYC and DC, the enormous loss of life and feeling the country's new sense of vulnerability, my eyes started to water. I couldn't help it. It got to me. I don't think I've told anyone about that ride, because it seems kind of embarrassing now; get a grip, right? But life didn't stop and we had to go on, and still reeling from that emotional second week in September, I found myself alone in my car and openly crying as I continued that Friday morning commute. But I looked at a car passing to my left, and the lady inside was wiping her eyes too. I can't prove it, but I'll bet the guys on the overpass got to her as well.
Well that was too much. With the somber music playing, and everybody still trying to cope with the carnage in NYC and DC, the enormous loss of life and feeling the country's new sense of vulnerability, my eyes started to water. I couldn't help it. It got to me. I don't think I've told anyone about that ride, because it seems kind of embarrassing now; get a grip, right? But life didn't stop and we had to go on, and still reeling from that emotional second week in September, I found myself alone in my car and openly crying as I continued that Friday morning commute. But I looked at a car passing to my left, and the lady inside was wiping her eyes too. I can't prove it, but I'll bet the guys on the overpass got to her as well.
I'm pretty sure almost anyone who was alive ten years ago remembers exactly
where they were and what they were doing on September 11, 2001, too. But
that's my story anyway. It's hard to believe, though, that the 10 year
anniversary of that awful day is tomorrow. Undoubtedly there'll be tons of
coverage and retrospectives in all mass media; so much so that by the time
everybody gets back to work Monday morning, we may be on 9/11 overload. But
that's okay. History can sort out all the geo-political ramifications
that came later, and I'll leave the debate over cause and effect and
lessons learned to those with mouthpieces bigger than mine.
But I don't think we should ever
forget the worst day in our country's history. I don't think we should ever
forget or tire of remembering the nearly 3000 fellow Americans who died that
day, or the first-responder heroes who counter-intuitively rushed into
the danger to try and save them. Or the men and women of Flight 93
that sacrificed themselves in a death match with the hijackers to re-take
control of their plane and prevent the bad guys from carrying out another
attack on Washington.
I also think we should remember who attacked us. We were not attacked by soldiers of another country during wartime. We were attacked by Islamic terrorists in peacetime. There's nothing noble or brave about ramming a commercial jet fully loaded with fuel and innocent passengers into buildings fully staffed with innocent office workers. Nobody should lose sight of that. And the 19 cowards who exploited our freedoms to pull it off? They are what they are- dead craven criminals. There's no earthy justification for what they did, no matter a person's faith or belief system, and nobody should lose sight of that, either.
I also think we should remember who attacked us. We were not attacked by soldiers of another country during wartime. We were attacked by Islamic terrorists in peacetime. There's nothing noble or brave about ramming a commercial jet fully loaded with fuel and innocent passengers into buildings fully staffed with innocent office workers. Nobody should lose sight of that. And the 19 cowards who exploited our freedoms to pull it off? They are what they are- dead craven criminals. There's no earthy justification for what they did, no matter a person's faith or belief system, and nobody should lose sight of that, either.
Yet those guys offer a sober and undeniable contrast
between what’s good in the world and what is truly evil. Nobody should ever
lose sight of that.
And from out of the ashes I hope we never forget 9/11, in the sincere hope that another day like it, never happens again.
And from out of the ashes I hope we never forget 9/11, in the sincere hope that another day like it, never happens again.
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