Remembering 9/11

I can't believe it has been 10 years since 9/11/01. As I sit and watch the coverage again and again today on the 10th anniversary of this national disaster...I realize how insignificant "my story" must seem. I was 16 years old when the towers were hit, and I can honestly say that although I didn't know anyone personally killed in this tragedy, 9/11 changed my life, as it did the lives of millions of Americans.

The first plane hit the towers when I was in 1st period in my 11th grade year at Albertville High School. I know this from the time line, of course, but I don't remember hearing about it until a little later. Even when we'd heard about it, I did not understand the gravity of the situation. Like many other stories I have heard, I remember the confusion of thinking it was some tragic accident-- an overworked pilot falling "asleep at the wheel" or a crop duster that got severely off course; someone had a stroke or heart attack while driving their jet... I don't know. What I didn't think was terrorists had attacked our country. That wasn't my first, second, third or maybe even 20th explanation of what I was seeing on TV. I was your typical self-centered 16 year old. I had gotten my license (FINALLY) not quite two months prior. My world revolved around cheerleading, showchoir, my boyfriend and making sure my class won the homecoming float competition. I shrugged off the first plane thinking..."gosh, poor people on that plane and in that building. Whew! I'm so glad I don't know anyone in New York. That looks scary... hmm I wonder what we're having for lunch today."

I was in between my first and second classes, and I heard news reports in almost every teacher's classroom. I stopped in to view Fox News on Mrs. Baggett's room and saw the second plane hit the second tower, and it started to dawn on me. This is no accident! What is going on? My heart hurt for the people I saw on TV, but again.. selfish kid that I was...I became terrified and thankful to live in a small town. The mixture of the emotions is still fresh on my mind, although many of the other details are muddy. A plane into the Pentagon, another believed to be on its way to the White House.... Where else would the planes go? Surely not Albertville, but maybe the Anniston Army Depot. How many times had I shrugged off the radio PSA's about what to do in case of biological emergency. Weren't we in range of that "danger zone" in case of a meltdown or whatever might happen at the Ft. McClellan?

Goodness, I will never forget seeing the emotion register on the faces of the folks on TV.. shock, terror, anguish, mass confusion. There were so many rumors being aired on TV and many more circling the halls of AHS. By midday, I am ashamed to say that one of my most immediate concerns was the gas shortage that we were sure was coming. I actually remember thinking "Man, I just got my license, and now I won't be able to drive. There will be NO gas! of all the rotten luck..." How ridiculous was I to think about myself at a time like that. Disgusting, but true. I remember being ashamed when that thought registered. I also remember waiting in line for almost 2 hours for gas...so I wasn't the only disgusting one with those selfish thoughts.

I also remember being immediately concerned about the real prospect of war. For the most part, my generation had lived in a peaceful time. With the exception of Desert Storm, which happened when I was 5, and seemed to last about 5 minutes in my feeble little mind. Would they institute a draft? Jefforey had just registered for selective service about 4 months before. What would I do if he was drafted?! He was my whole world! (selfish, selfish, selfish child I was) I felt angry! I felt the need for vengeance... retaliation. I was incredibly proud to hear President Bush say we would hunt whoever was responsible down and make them pay.

I remember seeing my first "jumper", and I think the hopelessness almost overwhelmed me. How miserable to be faced with the proposition of burning to death or jumping to death. Then, the unthinkable. The 2nd tower collapsed at 8:59 a.m. central time. It was clear that whatever tests we had that day were not going to happen. Every student and teacher was glued to the latest news. How could this get worse?! SOOO many people worked in that building. Thousands would be dead. That massive cloud of smoke and debris taking over NYC...a place I'd never been but always wanted to go. The hysteria in the streets...people running with ash over their faces, knee deep in the "stuff" that was the world trade center. The first responders had just gone into the burning buildings to try and save the day... they were most certainly dead. My respect for the fire fighters and police grew in that instant. But again, taking it back to me (as only a 16 year old can do)... what would I have done in that situation. If I were stranded on the 100th floor-- would I have been a jumper, too? I decided then, I wanted to be brave. I wanted to help people, but I didn't know how. I still don't know how..

It was a nightmarish day. Even for someone over 900 miles away... it was a nightmare. I can't even imagine the grief for those at ground zero or with loved ones there. Again, this perspective is from a 16 year old ignorant kid with no connection whatsoever to the chaos...10 years after the fact.

For days, months, weeks... I was afraid. Even in middle of nowhere in Albertville, AL, every plane caused terror! If theses cowardice terrorists could steal planes in AMERICA and use them as bombs, what else were they capable of! My worst fears included biological weapons... anthrax laced mail coming to McCoy Road.

In the next few weeks, months, years... I changed from a carefree kid to a concerned citizen. Of course, I was still incredibly self-absorbed, but I did care about the world around me much more than I did before. I knew I would never forget the nearly 3,000 people that were taken too soon that day by people who hated our way of life. I would not take life for granted. I would not take my freedom so lightly from now on. And my gratitude for the service men and women... unparalleled. It still breaks my heart to know that although many of them knew they would never come back out... they RAN into the flames in hopes of saving someone they didn't know. After the first tower fell, with the other tower's structural integrity greatly in question... they STILL ran in. Gut check time for me... I knew I would not have reacted that way. I think that helped me grow up a lot. These folks deserve so much respect...they are true American Heroes.

The patriotism for the next year was unreal. Our way of life, our freedom, had provoked these cowards to take terrorist action out on innocent people in our country. The reactions of people from across the country are what made me proud to be an American.

Here I sit, 10 years later, as I reflect on how I have changed because of this tragedy. It is still difficult to put into words, but I do hope that we will always remember the agony, the pride, the unity that we felt after those days as a country. It is EASY to fall victim to division, but we have to move forward UNITED if we wish to overcome. That was our message then, and it needs to be now.

I'm not sure why I felt so compelled to share a story that is in no way special.. I guess it's my way of making sure that I never forget where I was when the world stopped turning... when I gained a respect and gratitude for every man and woman who has served our country... when I knew that I wanted to serve in some way. My priorities were realigned that day to God, Family, Country...then the rest. I pray for the victims' families... no memorial or amount of time can truly heal their wounds. I pray for our country, which is scarred in the same ways. And I pray I can find that way to serve my country and be obedient to God to bring His name glory through all of this...

May God continue to bless America.

Remembering Poppa

It's 3:45 a.m., and I am eating a chocolate cupcake. It's not chocolate ice cream, but it is the closest thing I've got at this hour! One of my favorite things about Poppa is that he thought it was perfectly ok to take nightly ice cream breaks when he woke up. He would go to bed at like 7 p.m. and wake up around 10 for some ice cream... OFTEN. So I'm having a cupcake in his honor tonight.

I got a call at 2 a.m. that Poppa had gone to be with Jesus. I actually got a call at 1:17 a.m., but I didn't hear that one. My phone was on silent (not that sound would usually help... I am a ridiculously deep sleeper), so I am sure that God woke me up to let me know at exactly the right time. This is my first real experience with losing a loved one. I have been beyond blessed to have experienced 25 amazing years with all of my grandparents. I didn't expect this to be my first experience. Poppa, although he only had one lung all of my life (really 3/4 of one lung)-- he had lung cancer from asbestos exposure-- was always a rock and family fixture. My other grandparents have had some pretty significant health complications, but Poppa (one lung and all) seemed invincible to me. I don't think I ever heard him complain about anything in my entire life! It's just hard to imagine life without him sitting in his recliner, or out on the porch, or out in the garden picking strawberries or driving the tractor with Seuss (his adopted German Shepherd... we called him Zeus (which is honestly more fitting, he is a beast!), but Granny informed us otherwise, so out of respect today...I will give in) in the bucket beside him.

I had to double check my spelling of German Shepherd, and I came across a description that made me realize how perfect that dog was for my Poppa. From a Dog Central website-- the description sounds vaguely familiar..."One of the most beautiful and easily-recognizable breeds in the AKC, the German Shepherd has long captivated us with his noble and wolfish appearance, his loyalty, and his versatility. Able to learn and adapt to almost any new task set before him, he is a master of many trades, some of which include herding, assisting those who are blind or disabled, protection and guard duty..." Poppa is exactly all of those things! Now, you have to forgive me, Poppa, I know you wouldn't like being compared to a dog, and I do this with the most respect.. Trust me, but you have to admit... there is a lot of comparable truths here!

My Poppa was truly one of the most beautiful and easily-recognizable American "breeds"-- the hard working, honest, God-fearing Southern father, farmer and gentleman. He worked extremely hard at everything... loyal employee of Alabama Power Company (retired all of my life); kept an amazing garden and raised cattle...even his breathing was hard work. I will always remember his wheezing, and the sound that became an ironically comfortable background noise at every family function. Nothing really came easy for him, but he never stopped working. He rarely sat down! All to provide a great, hard-earned life for his family. He had a weathered appearance so one could easily recognize how hard he had to work to create this life, and they could appreciate him as I did. He was incredibly loyal to his wife of over 50 years, and cared for her as she became "less able" to get out and go to the store, etc. He was the master of many trades. I am always amazed that he and my dad can really do anything/everything! He has always served as a protector. I know I always felt safe because Poppa and Granny lived at the end of my driveway between me and the road (danger).

As I received the news tonight, I was completely heartbroken. Poppa went into the hospital last Friday (today is now Thursday). He actually went to the doctor first because he was having a hard time breathing, and he was dizzy. Turns out he had a GI bleed, and thus a lack of oxygen. They weren't too concerned. It was a side effect of the blood thinner he takes. They gave him blood at the hospital... and also as it turns out, they gave him pneumonia. I had a "busy week" at work-- none of it seems of any importance now, of course, and I am left feeling the stabbing pains of regret that I didn't take my last opportunity to spend time with Poppa. He would have done it for me. He dropped everything for me anytime I needed it. Perfect example... He used to take me to school in the morning some when I was pre-teen/teenager (and I am still not pleasant in the mornings, so I know that was a burden!!) My sister called tonight around 8 p.m. to tell me that I probably should come home tomorrow. Although the doctor said his condition was improving, my mom and sister did not believe it, and they thought I should know. I canceled my meetings in the morning, notified my boss, and I planned to leave as soon as the roads were clear. At present, we are dealing with an unseasonably cold and snowy winter in Alabama! We have around 2 inches of snow on the ground, and the roads between me and home are not the most ideal travel conditions. I actually thought about leaving in the middle of winter storm #47 (or 4.. whatever) and heading to the hospital as soon as I got the call, but I thought better of it. I knew that my family would be worried sick, and Poppa always used to get on me about "waiting til it was good and dark before I could get in the car to go anywhere." I laughed thinking about how he wouldn't want me on the road, and I decided to wait until morning. Turns out... morning came a little sooner for Poppa than it will for the rest of us.

Since I got the call, I have been sobbing, shaking, smiling, thanking... so many emotions that I felt I had to write it down to understand it all.

Poppa wasn't the biggest talker in the family... not that he didn't enjoy company or anything, he just probably didn't have much of a chance when we were all together. He may not have been a big talker, but he married one and raised a few of them! He was always present, though, listening or trying to... he was a "little" hard of hearing. He had a great sense of humor, and he was always smiling. He was strong and loving. He might have been a bit impatient or anxious at times, but don't worry...he didn't hide anything. What you saw was what you got with Poppa. He wore out more than a few coins in his pocket. He could jingle change with the best of them! I mentioned earlier that he was kind enough to drive me places when I was younger. I would get so embarrassed because he would drive up in that yellow cadillac or the white one and honk that deep sounding horn until I came out-- whether I was at home or school, the honking was fun for him, I think... just another way to pick at me a little bit. He loved to tell the story of my short-lived potato-picking career. He got a good laugh at my 6-year-old spoiled self taking on the spiders in the tater patch... so much so that for YEARS, he would ask "Are you busy this weekend? I need some help pickin taters." Just to get a rise out of me. He had a great smile and laugh. He may not have been proud of my talents as a farmer girl, but I know he was proud of my accomplishments. One time while I was at Auburn serving as the Vice President of the student body, he came down for a fancy dinner we had. My mom had gotten sick, and I had already reserved a place for 2 (mom and dad) at this dinner where we were installing the new officers. At first, I was really upset that my mom couldn't make it. Daddy brought Poppa with him, and I was excited, but skeptical, honestly. I didn't think Poppa would enjoy something like that.... it was held at the AU Hotel and Dixon Conference Center. It was suit/tie sort of occasion, and I had not seen Poppa in that setting. Not to mention, he was sitting with a lot of the other officers' families, who were a lot different from mine. I thought certainly he and my dad would be bored out of their minds! It was sort of "my last hoorah" in that role, and I had a speech about what we had accomplished, gave my charge to my replacement, etc. I looked out from the head table several times and of course, from the podium as I addressed the crowd, and Poppa was beaming. After we left, I remember him talking about how he was going to have to tell Rex (his best friend) all about it, and I knew I had accomplished something then! He wasn't too big on sharing emotions, but that night... I knew he was proud of me, and it made my night. I will never forget it, either!

I learned a lot from my Poppa. I learned that if you work hard, one day you can "relax" and do whatever you want to do... if that's driving a tractor and shelling peas or going to bed at 5 o'clock to wake up in 4 or 5 hours to eat a bowl of ice cream... so be it! I learned that you don't always have to do all of the talking to get your point across. I learned that keeping in touch with old friends is important; to value relationships and make the time and effort to see people, even when you don't feel like it. I learned how to wear the edges off of coins so they feel like river rocks in your pocket. I learned to treasure life and never give up; to smile-- even and maybe especially when you can't hear the chaos around you. I learned that the word "alright" is certainly alright to use when answering the phone. I learned that a life lived on Christian principles and a Godly example will create a legacy that will live on forever.

Right now, while I am heartbroken that I didn't get to tell Poppa these things before he left this world, I am praising God for the life that he lead. If given half the chance to go back in time, I would have followed my gut and driven on the icy roads last night to be able to see him one more time and tell him that I love him, and that he means the world to me. I know that he knew. I am beyond thankful for his example in my life. Phillippians 1:3 says "I thank my God upon every remembrance of you." I always will, Poppa. Thank you, Jesus, for choosing us to be your children; for dying on a cross to defeat my sin so I can see Poppa again one day and tell him all of this stuff.