Remembering 9/11

I was backing out of the driveway at our house in Fredericksburg, heading out for another day of contract work at Diamond Shamrock in San Antonio when I turned on the radio. I heard some people talking very calmly saying that some building had been hit by an airplane. In my mind I pictured a little single engine plane hitting some nondescript building in Podunk, Utah. They seemed baffled - what could this mean? where did it come from? World Trade Center - Blah, blah, blah. Then, suddenly, their voices were filled with shock and horror - "Oh my God, another plane has just hit the other tower!!"

I had stopped in the middle of the street listening to their banter back and forth. When the second plane hit, I audibly declared, "Osama bin Laden!" I am not sure how I knew that.

That day and the ones that followed were like living in a dream or maybe living in denial. It just didn't seem real sometimes. You hoped you would wake up and it would all have been a bad dream. It was very disturbing watching the planes hit . . . tiny figures jumping and falling, falling, falling . . . buildings collapsing . . . dust-covered people stumbling away in a state of shock . . . and trying to imagine if I had been in one of those buildings.

I put flags out on the balcony on Bowie Street (American and Texas), cleaned my guns and took stock of my ammunition, wondered if I was too old to do something to strike back at the bastards that were behind it, kept glued to Fox News . . . Soon there were American flags at homes and business all over town, everywhere. I remember how proud I was to see that, in spite of the loudmouth liberals who hated our country, and seemed to always be given an open mic from the media, that real patriotism was alive and well in America!

Our son, Ethan, had joined the Army exactly two months before on July 11 and he was still in basic training at Ft. Knox. When we talked with him he said he and his fellow recruits knew they were in for a fight and everyone was listening much more closely and taking their training very seriously now. They could not have know then that they would be going half way around the world to Afghanistan and Iraq - and that some of them would not come back. We honor them and all who risked their lives and sacrificed (and still do) to protect one of our most precious possessions - our freedom. And I honor my son, SSG Ethan Richards, Purple Heart recipient. Enough said.

Verna and I were among the first Americans to fly after 9/11. During basic, there was an event called Family Day where you could come to the base, pick up your soldier, and get them out of hell for a couple of days. Wild horses could not have kept us from going. At that time, everyone was wondering if other planes could still be hijacked. A little scary, but we had a soldier who needed a break and this was like our mission for our son and our country, do or die. That may seem a little dramatic or over the top - but it was a very strange time. I was one of the first Americans to be randomly selected for doing the little wand thing and having my bags searched. At that time it was a real novelty and I was honored to be one of the first.

You may have heard about the concept of "six degrees of separation." I took special note of this when we learned of two people, children of friends in Fredericksburg, who narrowly missed being victims at the World Trade Center. One was the son of our next door neighbors; he was scheduled to go to work for a firm in one of the towers the next day. The other, the daughter of a couple we know, was a regular flight attendant (they used to be called "stewardesses") on one of the flights that hit the towers. She was taking the day off and someone else took her place. This made me think that surely people all across the county must have had a similar experience of knowing someone who was there or could have been there.

This was our generation's Pearl Harbor. We will never forget. I was very moved by the first Americans who struck a blow against the enemy - the ones who gave their lives to stop Flight 93 with Todd Beamer's battle cry, "Let's roll!" That plane was headed toward Washington, D.C. and surely would have taken more lives if it had hit its target, presumably the Capital building. And the police, firemen, and others in New York were beyond amazing with the courage to go into those buildings to try to save as many as they could, many of them sacrificing their own lives.

Although it was a dark time, it brought out the best of the true American spirit. That may sound trite, and it may have brought out the worst in a few kooks, but that is my recollection. Even the heathen, hateful Democrat congress joined the Republicans in singing God Bless America on the Capitol steps. (I can just imagine Barama's pastor, Jeremiah Wright, watching on TV and singing along with them - maybe with a little twist to the lyrics.) The Democrats even gave Pres. George Bush standing ovations and voted to give him the authority to go to war with whoever was responsible. He said at that time to the other countries of the world, "Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists. From this day forward, any nation that continues to harbor or support terrorism will be regarded by the United States as a hostile regime."

I may talk about other terrorism issues and the political scene in another post, but not today. Today we just need to remember and honor the people who gave their lives on that day and in the days since.