It was pretty early on that chilly New Hampshire September morning. The mist had not yet risen off the grass. Of course the boys were up. They were still toddlers, Ransom was 3 and Ethan was 1. My husband was on his way to a business appointment in Connecticut and he called me. He said, 'Beck, turn on the tv quick. It's unbelievable. This can't be happening. I am coming home." I turned on the TV, and time froze. The twin towers were on the screen. In smoke. The great World Trade Center. Of course we had both been there before being native New Yorkers. We watched in disbelief as the plane deliberately flew into the tower. The smoke, the desperation in the reporters voices. It was all happening in slow motion. This type of thing happened everywhere else in the world, but not here. America was supposed to be safe. This type of thing didn't happen in "The City". The bombs and guns of war were for far off distant places.
My first thought was of my brother Luke, who was a Captain for United Airlines. He was always the original Luke Skywalker to me, he started flying planes when I was a little girl. His home-base was NY and often flew the cross country flights to California. That was his route. Could it had been his plane? I called my mother. I tried to call Luke.
My parents, although living in Vermont, were actually in Staten Island. See, my grandfather had died on September 11 in 1980. My father and his 4 brothers (and sister when possible) were commemorating his death all these year later. Pop was that kind of man. So, my parents were trapped in the City and couldn't come home. The City was closed off. I couldn't even get ahold of them for a while... it was pre-cell phone for them and land lines weren't working. They finally called and they were fine. A little frazzled from the situation. I got an update on where every single one of my cousins and relatives were. A few were actually in Manhattan working. They had to get home by walking across the bridge. My brother called. He was in an airport, somewhere, and of course all air travel was nixed. So, he was safe, but like so many others, he was stuck where he was. I remember him telling me, "Becky, this changes everything. The country will never be the same. We will always be at war now." A chill was sent through my spine.
As the day unfolded, the screen told the tales. The other planes, the acts of heroism, the tales of desperation. It was unreal, but not really. Somehow, before this, America was sheltered. This was how the world really was. This is how broken, sick humans actually operate. But it also showed another thing. It showed the other side of human nature. There are brave, heroic men and women. Some of them don't even know how brave they are until put to the test. The firefighters rushing into falling buildings. The man who saved so many lives because he stood up and acted without reservation on the plane which was meant to crash into a government building in Washington, not in a Pennsylvania farmfield. So many acts of sacrifice, each a witness to all that is good in the world.
I, like so many other Americans, will never forget where I was, what I was doing on that day. The day that changed everything.
My first thought was of my brother Luke, who was a Captain for United Airlines. He was always the original Luke Skywalker to me, he started flying planes when I was a little girl. His home-base was NY and often flew the cross country flights to California. That was his route. Could it had been his plane? I called my mother. I tried to call Luke.
My parents, although living in Vermont, were actually in Staten Island. See, my grandfather had died on September 11 in 1980. My father and his 4 brothers (and sister when possible) were commemorating his death all these year later. Pop was that kind of man. So, my parents were trapped in the City and couldn't come home. The City was closed off. I couldn't even get ahold of them for a while... it was pre-cell phone for them and land lines weren't working. They finally called and they were fine. A little frazzled from the situation. I got an update on where every single one of my cousins and relatives were. A few were actually in Manhattan working. They had to get home by walking across the bridge. My brother called. He was in an airport, somewhere, and of course all air travel was nixed. So, he was safe, but like so many others, he was stuck where he was. I remember him telling me, "Becky, this changes everything. The country will never be the same. We will always be at war now." A chill was sent through my spine.
As the day unfolded, the screen told the tales. The other planes, the acts of heroism, the tales of desperation. It was unreal, but not really. Somehow, before this, America was sheltered. This was how the world really was. This is how broken, sick humans actually operate. But it also showed another thing. It showed the other side of human nature. There are brave, heroic men and women. Some of them don't even know how brave they are until put to the test. The firefighters rushing into falling buildings. The man who saved so many lives because he stood up and acted without reservation on the plane which was meant to crash into a government building in Washington, not in a Pennsylvania farmfield. So many acts of sacrifice, each a witness to all that is good in the world.
I, like so many other Americans, will never forget where I was, what I was doing on that day. The day that changed everything.
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