3 AM reflections of September 11th

Here it is 3:13 AM Feb. 2, 2008 – I’m scheduled to leave for New York in roughly 26 hours. Wow.

What do I want to see while I’m there? What’s important for me to see? Admittedly, I want to see some “signs” of the New York I see in movies and shows – where I can recognize landmarks and say “THIS is New York!” You know Central Park, Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center, Time Square kinda stuff.

Then there’s the one important place: Ground Zero. Why do I want to go there? Morbid curiosity? Historical landmark? No. It’s much more the sense of needing to say good-bye, to have some closure, to show respect for those who died. It’s the same urge and need that I have when I go to Hillsboro and need to stop at the cemetery to talk to Grandma. I owe it to her and I don’t stop my life often enough to appreciate it. Going to the cemetery forces me to slow down and reflect.

Where was I on September 11, 2001? My memories are of waking up to the clock radio announcing some news of a plane crash and something about the Pentagon. It didn’t sink in. Instead I flipped off the alarm clock and did what I always do, say a quick prayer (“God please be with those people, their families, and those trying to help them.”) and then I got up to get the kids ready for childcare and school and me ready for work. Elijah, age 4, was headed to Mrs. Franke’s for childcare; Isaac, age 5, was headed to St. Mary’s school for kindergarten. Me? I was headed to work at the State and Joel was getting ready for school at Chemeketa Community College.

After getting everyone dropped off, I started driving into work and flipped on the radio. Stunned . . . shocked . . . confused. At work, I headed to my cubicle and everyone was milling around in shock. Juli, my co-worker, and I kept reading websites and telling each other what the latest news was. . . Everyone periodically headed over to our administrator’s office to catch the news on the TV in there – replays over & over again of what happened. I remember feeling so confused and wondering if there was some kind of mistake.

We all felt so helpless. Shaken. It shattered our world. We all know how it is where you assign a guardian for the kids in case of a “if anything ever happens to me” but you know it’s a long shot and so you don’t think much about it. Kinda like my upcoming flight to New York – what if something happens? But, I tell myself that statistically, I’m perfectly safe – the chances are slim. September 11^th something happened. God bless those families. I felt shaken . . . what did this mean? Knowing this means war – glad Joel was no longer Active duty, afraid because he was still reserve, knowing he wanted to go fight, afraid to be left with just me and the kids again.

I felt grief and wondered why because I likely didn’t know anyone who died, or did I? Then there is the mixture of fear that someone I know or someone close to me would be impacted – even a cousin’s death or my sister’s brother-in-law’s death would impact us all. And, again, the guilt that I felt some relief that it wasn’t affecting me and the people I know weren’t hurt. (Granted, the whole year following I recognize that I was on pins and needles wondering if the alumni newsletter would announce someone from my class had died or that at a family reunion I’d hear that someone close to me had been hurt . . . and then there was the anxiety that maybe it wasn’t over and we’d be hit again.)

At work that day, several of us headed to the noon mass, held hands, and cried. We grieved . . . We grieved for people we had never met. Then, I headed home and got my kids and held them. Torn between wanting to watch all the news: Hoping for a miracle (“thousands of people found sheltered in a tunnel”), afraid there was more to come, and wanting answers. Torn because we knew the kids shouldn’t be watching it and knowing that they knew something was going on and I didn’t quite know what to tell them (“some mean people crashed some planes and killed a lot of people and so we need to pray for those families”). Feeling helpless . . . willingly giving our money to any charity that asked or any jar at the grocery store or anything. . . Feeling helpless.

Admittedly, I also felt guilt because one of my very first thoughts at work that day had been “who has to track all those fatalities and set up those cases?” As a Occupational Fatalities Analyst, I was used to my ears perking up to words like “fatal” or “killed” because I would need to set up cases to investigate . . . I understand logically why I thought that, but, I still feel guilty.

Why do I want to visit Ground Zero? To acknowledge that this is all real. . . To touch the grave of all those people and say “I’m sorry” and “thank you” . . . I believe that everyone has a purpose and is put here for a reason; was their reason to shake me up – shake us all up, force us to quit taking life and each other for granted. We now live in a world where we know to say “I love you” and give each other hugs each morning because it may be our last or their last. . . . What more did September 11^th teach us? For me, I think I’ll be reflecting on that for years to come.

So, why do I need to go to Ground Zero? Because I need to. Know what I mean?

And, is it bad that the flip side of this reflection is the excitement to see “the City”? I think the true New Yorkers would appreciate that. Goodnight!