Where I was when 'the world stopped turning'

…….”Where were you when the world stopped turning, on that September day?” …. Alan Jackson’s steady, smooth voice fills my quiet morning. It’s impossible not to hear this song and stop for just a moment and remember where you were.  Today on the 10th anniversary of 9/11 the day that changed my country, I’m brought back to that Tuesday morning and the days and weeks following………..

It was a wildly busy morning, more than usual.  Joey was 3, and having a typical morning wanting to play with his Rescue Heroes instead of getting dressed.  I was gulping down coffee between yelling to Ashley, who was 9 years old  ‘hurry up you’re going to miss the bus!’ Joe was loading the truck getting ready to leave for work, muttering about how he was running late. I was going through my check list in my head, making sure I had everything ready to bring my mother in-law home to live with us the next day, while she temporarily rehabbed from an illness. 

I turned on the crock pot, grabbed a fresh cup of coffee and headed out for the day. As I pulled my purse off the kitchen table it caught the edge of Joe’s textbooks and they crashed to the floor.  I scooped them up and replaced them onto the table, my hand settled on the books for a moment, as a wave a pride swept over me.  Joe was starting to make his dream become a reality.  The night before was his first night of Paramedic school, we knew it was going to be a long, exhausting, and challenging 15 months while he was in school but when he was done, his chances of being hired as a professional fire fighter were much greater. It’s all he really wanted.

The morning continued to unfold, I dropped Joey off at day care and was driving up Route 91 listening to 880AM NYC CBS Radio, when they announced they had unconfirmed reports that a plan had hit one of the twin towers.  For a split second I thought, ‘God, I hope that wasn’t intentional, are we under attack?’…… I dismissed it as quickly as I thought it.  It couldn’t be, it’s just a horrible mistake, maybe the pilot was asleep at the controls.

As I entered the office, I asked Ed if he had heard about what happened in NYC …….. he said a second tower had been hit.  I’ve tried to recapture the feelings I had, what I thought at that moment ……. and all I can resurrect is the feeling of quiet, like the quiet after a snow storm when everything seems a little muffled or  when I’m underwater in the pool and the sounds of kids laughing around the pool are suppressed.  I remember hearing Ed’s voice but really not hearing anything. I knew instinctively that something was terribly wrong, what I didn’t know was the magnitude of the ‘wrong’.  I know that the day evolved oddly, we stayed open and attempted to do business…..but nothing was accomplished. I heard parents were taking their children out of school, I wondered, should I follow suit? Joe and I decided against it, somehow I needed to keep life normal.

Normal?……in hind sight I see now life would never be the ‘normal’ we once new.  I now could identify with my Grandfathers recollections of Pearl Harbor, yes the scope of the attacks were different, never the less now I understood the uncertainty of having my home land under attack.

Joe met Ashely at the bus stop and I picked up Joey that afternoon. I remember watching Joey in the rear-view mirror as we drove home, looking into his big brown eyes, seeing only innocence and wondering what was this new world that was unfolding, what would his world be like?

Joe met me on the front porch, his arms wrapped around me and for a moment I felt safe and secure.  I found myself glued to the television all night, while the images repeatedly reenacted the days events, and I felt life changing. I cried for the innocent civilians caught in the ugly crossfire the terrorists had created. I cried for the Firefighters, Police Officers and other first responders that perished. 

The next day was a blur, I moved my mother in-law in, I answered Ashley’s inquisitive questions, and Joe had his second night of school. 

It was Thursday morning that was most sobering for me. Joe met me at the bottom of the stairs with squared shoulders and determination in his eyes.

"I’m going to Ground Zero." He said steadily.

I snapped my head back like I had been slapped, my eyes bulged and I thought he had lost him mind. 

"What?!" I shook my head "No, no, no, no……..you can’t! What about the kids?! What about me?!"

"Those are my brothers there and I’m going to help, don’t stop me" His face was red and tears gathered in his eyes.

It was at that moment I realized the passion he had for his new career path. He had years of volunteer firefighting under his belt and while I worried when the tone sounded and he left for a local fire or accident, it was something he did when he could fit it in. I was now faced with the reality of what that career truly was.

I stepped off the stairs and wrapped my arms around him and started to cry.  I cried then for the families of the lost and missing firefighters.  Those families who no longer would here the front door slam and yell, ‘Daddy’s home’,  for the school plays, graduations, and weddings that will have forever have a missing hole.

Joe never made it to Ground Zero, they had so many volunteers that they needed to turn many away. He has since made a few trips to NYC and Ground Zero, he’s always been a man of few words but watching his body language and facial expressions when he is there, tells the story of a man who lost too many brothers and was like so many changed that day.   

It was a sobering week for all of us. Joe and I decided not to shelter our children too much from the events that week, and instead we helped them see the good that was rising up from the ashes of that dark day.  We taught them that we are proud, strong Americans and that the Red, White and Blue are colors that don’t run. In December of 2001 we visited NYC and made our way to Ground Zero, again symbolically shaking our fists at the terrorists, showing them we weren’t going to live in fear and allow them to take away our ability to travel freely and comfortably throughout our beautiful country.

I find it ironic that Joe is working today, as a professional fire figther/paramedic, he’s doing what he loves. I kissed him goodbye this morning as he walked away, I remembered that Tuesday morning on 9/11 and wondered how many wives kissed there husbands that morning and expected to see them for dinner that night.

It has been a beautiful day, a day to celebrate life. Joey had the honor of ringing our church bell at 9:37 to honor those lost in the attack on the Pentagon. He stood proudly in his Boy Scout Class A uniform, understanding the importance of his mission. 

We’re off now to the 6pm Ceremony on the green, where once again my son Joey will assist in honoring and celebrating the lives of all those who gave so much 10 years ago today.

I love my country and while it has changed since the events of 9/11 it has taught some very valuable lessons. Lessons I hope an pray are never forgotten.