My tribute to 9/11.

 

This is my story. It was a normal morning. I got up at 5:30, made my bed, made coffee, neatened up the house and then headed off to school. School on this day was Hamilton Community Schools. On this day, there was an in-service at the Special Ed Co-op in Kendallville and I was required to go. In-service days are usually a fun day and a nice day out of the classroom with thoughts of learning some new trends. There were always  coffee and doughnuts, and that is the best part!

I carpooled to Kendallville chatting as we went, chatting as I always do. When we arrived, I was right, there were more doughnuts and coffee. Everything was set out in the conference room for us including pencils and new pads of paper. The in-service began. I really cannot remember a thing about it, maybe we didn’t get too far into it when someone came in pulling in a television on a cart. We froze. I could tell by the look on her face that something awful was happening. She plugged in the television, and  we watched in absolute horror the planes going into the World Trade Center. It didn’t look real. It was like watching a movie, except it wasn’t. By this time United Flight 93 went down in a field in Pennsylvania. I had a personal panic attack.

My three boys, Adam, Aaron, and Abe had all just graduated from college. Yes, they were all in school at the same time. Following graduation, the twins drove to St. Pete, Florida to spread their wings. Abe went the other direction to Santa Barbara, California. None of them had good jobs yet. They were young, ambitious and curious about the world around them. I was happy for them to try new things, explore new areas all the while, I missed them terribly. Adam came home that weekend and had a flight from Indy to St. Pete early on that Tuesday morning. There was a quick layover in Pittsburgh. I knew all of that. I did not know which airline or the flight number.

I panicked. I knew his layover was in Pittsburgh. The newscaster didn’t know details, well, no one knew details, except the aircraft went down in a field in Pennsylvania. We didn’t know then that it was headed for Washington, D.C. and the aircraft was just 20 minutes from Washington.

Adam was on an American flight oblivious to any of this. The flight attendants and the flight crew said nothing. His first sense of something weird was going on was when the aircraft landed in Tampa from the North. Those runways are reserved for flying out and not in. The tarmac in Tampa was quiet too. As the aircraft landed, they were told to get their belongings and head straight into the airport to get their bags. Once he walked in, it was eerily quiet. No people. The monitors were still up and running, but everything had the word “canceled” next to the flight. The lights were dim and folks were leaving quickly…actually running to their cars. Later he found out they were one of the last flights to make it to their destination. One television was on with the news. He also watched in horror. Finding a pay phone, he made a few calls, one was to Hamilton Schools to tell me he was okay. They called over to the office to tell me. I wept.

We packed up and left; I picked up my car and went home.

What to do…what to do? No one knew. All I thought about was how can I get to my boys? No flights. No trains. No buses. Nothing. Nothing but quietness, and that is what I remember most in the following days. Everything was quiet. No planes in the sky to leave white smokey trails, no train horns blaring down at crossings.

What else do I remember? We were all in this together. We hung out our flags. We chatted with our neighbors. We baked cookies and shared. We slept with the lights on because of the darkness. We wept over the bravery of the men and women on Flight 93 who ended their lives to save hundreds. We wept over the lives lost and the brave firefighters.

 As Americans we were strong together, and we would get through this. We were united as a country.

On this day, the 25^th anniversary, we remember our stories together, as Americans.