On An Ordinary Tuesday - 9/11/01
September/11/2007 Random Thoughts
I'm so glad it rained today.
Six years ago I was about to leave my house to run some errands . . . a doctor's appointment and preparations for an upcoming Guerrilla Management Workshop at my lake house in Deep Creek Lake, Maryland. I was on my way out the door when the phone rang: It was my fellow instructor, Judy Grann, who said, "Are you watching TV . . . something's happened in New York."
I clicked on the TV just in time to see a plane smash into the second tower. I was horrified, but I was late for my appointment, so I jumped in the card and turned on the radio. By the time I arrived at the doctor's office, the Pentagon had been hit. People in this tiny mountain community were visibly shaken, as they thought the fall of the Berlin Wall had finally removed the specter of an attack on Washington. Because I didn't grow up in Deep Creek, I had never given a second thought to the fact the this peaceful region lies within the fall-out zone of a nuclear attack on Washington, D.C. I was pretty calm. After all, I had grown up in a military family and participated in countless evacuation drills when we lived abroad. I knew that bad things could happen, but you just kept moving.
I was fine, that is, until I heard that a plane had flown into the ground in Shanksville, PA, just 60 miles from Deep Creek. At that moment I was seized by a panic to get back to the house and reach my husband and kids on the phone. In the back of my mind, I thought "they" were coming for ALL of us. The next few days were a blur . . . making sure my grown kids knew what to do if the attacks kept coming . . . trying to decide what to do about the upcoming class when planes weren't flying . . . watching TV coverage non-stop . . . hearing the awful news that the pilot of American Airlines flight #77, which hit Pentagon, was the older brother of one of our clients.
Somehow, six stalwart photographers who were within a reasonable driving distance of Deep Creek, made it to the Workshop. Judy and I were grateful for their perseverance, as the class helped to restore a bit of normalcy, although it was hard for all of us to concentrate, when you really wanted to turn on the news. It was as if seeing the towers fall down again and again would lead us to understand what had happened on that incredibly beautiful blue-sky Tuesday.
For the past two weeks, the weather — from New York to Deep Creek — has made the news: Everyone marveled that not a drop of rain fell on the U.S. Open in Flushing Meadows. The lake has never been more beautiful. Driving back to PA from our Deep Creek holiday, I couldn't help but be reminded of the kind of day it was on 9-11-01, and I started to feel the same unease that I have felt on beautiful September days ever since.
The streak of lovely weather ended today, and I was so glad to see the rain. The unease was still there, so I started visiting 9-11 memorial websites, where I learned they are still trying to raise money for a memorial to the souls who were lost in Shanksville. I stopped surfing after I came across a memorial site that I had visited before: http://www.voicesofsept11.org, on the 911 Reflections/songs & poems page. There, I landed on a series of songs written in memory of the day. One of them—On An Ordinary Tuesday—seemed to sum up my thoughts today. It was written by Sharon, Arthur, Margie, Alton Corey & Jeff Hodge and performed by Buddy Jewell, Copyright 2002 Sharomar Music. Here's a link if you'd like to listen.
The song was soothing today. So was the rain.
Temporary memorial to United Flight 97 in Shanksville, PA
Six years ago I was about to leave my house to run some errands . . . a doctor's appointment and preparations for an upcoming Guerrilla Management Workshop at my lake house in Deep Creek Lake, Maryland. I was on my way out the door when the phone rang: It was my fellow instructor, Judy Grann, who said, "Are you watching TV . . . something's happened in New York."
I clicked on the TV just in time to see a plane smash into the second tower. I was horrified, but I was late for my appointment, so I jumped in the card and turned on the radio. By the time I arrived at the doctor's office, the Pentagon had been hit. People in this tiny mountain community were visibly shaken, as they thought the fall of the Berlin Wall had finally removed the specter of an attack on Washington. Because I didn't grow up in Deep Creek, I had never given a second thought to the fact the this peaceful region lies within the fall-out zone of a nuclear attack on Washington, D.C. I was pretty calm. After all, I had grown up in a military family and participated in countless evacuation drills when we lived abroad. I knew that bad things could happen, but you just kept moving.
I was fine, that is, until I heard that a plane had flown into the ground in Shanksville, PA, just 60 miles from Deep Creek. At that moment I was seized by a panic to get back to the house and reach my husband and kids on the phone. In the back of my mind, I thought "they" were coming for ALL of us. The next few days were a blur . . . making sure my grown kids knew what to do if the attacks kept coming . . . trying to decide what to do about the upcoming class when planes weren't flying . . . watching TV coverage non-stop . . . hearing the awful news that the pilot of American Airlines flight #77, which hit Pentagon, was the older brother of one of our clients.
Somehow, six stalwart photographers who were within a reasonable driving distance of Deep Creek, made it to the Workshop. Judy and I were grateful for their perseverance, as the class helped to restore a bit of normalcy, although it was hard for all of us to concentrate, when you really wanted to turn on the news. It was as if seeing the towers fall down again and again would lead us to understand what had happened on that incredibly beautiful blue-sky Tuesday.
For the past two weeks, the weather — from New York to Deep Creek — has made the news: Everyone marveled that not a drop of rain fell on the U.S. Open in Flushing Meadows. The lake has never been more beautiful. Driving back to PA from our Deep Creek holiday, I couldn't help but be reminded of the kind of day it was on 9-11-01, and I started to feel the same unease that I have felt on beautiful September days ever since.
The streak of lovely weather ended today, and I was so glad to see the rain. The unease was still there, so I started visiting 9-11 memorial websites, where I learned they are still trying to raise money for a memorial to the souls who were lost in Shanksville. I stopped surfing after I came across a memorial site that I had visited before: http://www.voicesofsept11.org, on the 911 Reflections/songs & poems page. There, I landed on a series of songs written in memory of the day. One of them—On An Ordinary Tuesday—seemed to sum up my thoughts today. It was written by Sharon, Arthur, Margie, Alton Corey & Jeff Hodge and performed by Buddy Jewell, Copyright 2002 Sharomar Music. Here's a link if you'd like to listen.
The song was soothing today. So was the rain.
Temporary memorial to United Flight 97 in Shanksville, PA