Where Were You: Remembering 11 September 2001
The most poignant and memorable moment of my life will be forever wrapped in that morning. And to this day, I can still remember it. Every last moment. Every last detail. The world stopped turning for a mere two hours. I was glued to the events unfolding.
I had worked a long shift the night before. I had come home, made myself something to eat, and started cruising the Internet. I was looking at the events of the day, catching what the Left was doing, and getting ready for the next day. The moment I found a story I wanted to comment on, I did so. But, four years ago, I didn’t have MS Office in my computer; all of my writing was done entirely in longhand. No easy task for someone like me. As our regular readers know, neither of us are "brief." If it takes us 2000 words to say something, that’s how many it takes, and we’re not stopping until we’re finished.
I was working on three things that night: I had my random thoughts—comments about the day’s politics and news. Those were always fun to do, and required a lot of research to complete. The second thing was my fiction. Many people know I can do non-fiction and political columns, but very few people have ever seen my fiction. It’s not bad, according to those that have read it. (I have to admit that I once had a thought to create a blog site for my fiction alone, but I’m not ready for that criticism.) The third thing was the non-fiction manuscript I have been working on for about the past two years. It’s so difficult to do that sort of work because things do keep happening, and all the stories are never finished.
I had taken a breather about three in the morning to just relax. I grabbed a tape and through it in the VCR. It’s one of my favorites: The Complete History of the Navy SEALs. I have the thing practically memorized, and it has always served as a great starting point for referencing the SEALs. By about five a.m., I still wasn’t tired. So, I went back to the Internet, turned on my radio and started listening to my station. The morning host had been having an argument with the technical producer (read: producer/board-op) over a baseball game. The station wasn’t a sports talk station, but Bruce was good about keeping the regular listeners up to date on his views of baseball. They’re pretty screwy. He’s a Mets fan.
At a quarter to six—Arizona time—the station broke in with news that a small plane had crashed into the side of the of the North World Trade Tower. I immediately turned on the TV and shut off my radio. I didn’t have to change a channel. My TV was already on FOX. I watched the events unfolding. At first, I thought that it was likely an accident. The pilot might have lost control, ran out of fuel, or something similar to that effect. And I watched in abject horror when about twenty minutes later, the second plane struck the south tower.
Two planes and two accidents? Not likely. Not in the greatest realms of possibility could it simply have been an accident. I sat there, my hands shaking with rage, because I recognized that this was an attack. It was a 21st Century Pearl Harbor, and America was at war. Watching everything happen in New York I felt like I was watching a car crash. Everything was happening in slow motion. I felt like I was in slow motion. I remember shaking my head with my eyes closed hoping to wake up from the nightmare I was witnessing. When I opened my eyes, the Towers were still on fire, and FOX was still reporting two planes had hit the World Trade towers.
About a half hour later, I saw as the scene switched from New York to Washington, DC where a team of hijackers had tried to decapitate the heart of the nation. Anyone who didn’t believe this was an attack was a moron. And of course those conspiracy theories popped up soon after 11 Sept. I didn’t go to bed until well after the Flight 93 went down in Pennsylvania. I was dead on my feet, But I had been smart first thing that morning. When the events began to unfold, I through a tape in the VCR and hit record. I have the first 36 hours of 11 Sept. on tape. I watch them every anniversary so that, no matter what, I will never forget.
And I won’t. I don’t think I could if I tried. I remember the planes hitting their targets. I remember the people—that walking wounded in New York—covered in ash, soot, blood and concrete dust. And once the news poured in about who had carried this out, my blood pressure went through the roof. The predecessor to Pres. Bush hadn’t done his job. He didn’t make America safer. He made her weaker. He didn’t do his job. He refused to engage these animals when they popped up. And since that day, more and more has come out in regard to what Pres. Clinton hadn’t done. It was beyond irritating.
However, had it not been for 11 Sept., no one would have ever read what I write because I wouldn’t have put it out. I wouldn’t have become a blogger. I wouldn’t have developed the contacts around the country like I have. And I probably never would have met my esteemed partner in crime. I have a lot to remember about that day. I have a lot to be thankful for because of the events of that day. Would I trade what I have for 11 Sept. to have never happened? Well, all but one? Sure. You bet. If I could snap my fingers and take that day away, prevent it from ever occurring, of course I would. But I can’t. I have to live with the memories. And so do we all.
We will never forget that day, and we will continue to persevere through this war. God Bless America, and God Bless our troops. And in closing, I'm reminded about the banner on the Mudville Gazette site:
"Good people sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."
Publius II
ADDENDUM: On this day of remembrance I found this site: http://www.gunstuff.com/america-attacked.html Go there and view the video they have put together. I had not shed tears since that day, and the images there brough them back. Go there, and never forget what happened that day.
The most poignant and memorable moment of my life will be forever wrapped in that morning. And to this day, I can still remember it. Every last moment. Every last detail. The world stopped turning for a mere two hours. I was glued to the events unfolding.
I had worked a long shift the night before. I had come home, made myself something to eat, and started cruising the Internet. I was looking at the events of the day, catching what the Left was doing, and getting ready for the next day. The moment I found a story I wanted to comment on, I did so. But, four years ago, I didn’t have MS Office in my computer; all of my writing was done entirely in longhand. No easy task for someone like me. As our regular readers know, neither of us are "brief." If it takes us 2000 words to say something, that’s how many it takes, and we’re not stopping until we’re finished.
I was working on three things that night: I had my random thoughts—comments about the day’s politics and news. Those were always fun to do, and required a lot of research to complete. The second thing was my fiction. Many people know I can do non-fiction and political columns, but very few people have ever seen my fiction. It’s not bad, according to those that have read it. (I have to admit that I once had a thought to create a blog site for my fiction alone, but I’m not ready for that criticism.) The third thing was the non-fiction manuscript I have been working on for about the past two years. It’s so difficult to do that sort of work because things do keep happening, and all the stories are never finished.
I had taken a breather about three in the morning to just relax. I grabbed a tape and through it in the VCR. It’s one of my favorites: The Complete History of the Navy SEALs. I have the thing practically memorized, and it has always served as a great starting point for referencing the SEALs. By about five a.m., I still wasn’t tired. So, I went back to the Internet, turned on my radio and started listening to my station. The morning host had been having an argument with the technical producer (read: producer/board-op) over a baseball game. The station wasn’t a sports talk station, but Bruce was good about keeping the regular listeners up to date on his views of baseball. They’re pretty screwy. He’s a Mets fan.
At a quarter to six—Arizona time—the station broke in with news that a small plane had crashed into the side of the of the North World Trade Tower. I immediately turned on the TV and shut off my radio. I didn’t have to change a channel. My TV was already on FOX. I watched the events unfolding. At first, I thought that it was likely an accident. The pilot might have lost control, ran out of fuel, or something similar to that effect. And I watched in abject horror when about twenty minutes later, the second plane struck the south tower.
Two planes and two accidents? Not likely. Not in the greatest realms of possibility could it simply have been an accident. I sat there, my hands shaking with rage, because I recognized that this was an attack. It was a 21st Century Pearl Harbor, and America was at war. Watching everything happen in New York I felt like I was watching a car crash. Everything was happening in slow motion. I felt like I was in slow motion. I remember shaking my head with my eyes closed hoping to wake up from the nightmare I was witnessing. When I opened my eyes, the Towers were still on fire, and FOX was still reporting two planes had hit the World Trade towers.
About a half hour later, I saw as the scene switched from New York to Washington, DC where a team of hijackers had tried to decapitate the heart of the nation. Anyone who didn’t believe this was an attack was a moron. And of course those conspiracy theories popped up soon after 11 Sept. I didn’t go to bed until well after the Flight 93 went down in Pennsylvania. I was dead on my feet, But I had been smart first thing that morning. When the events began to unfold, I through a tape in the VCR and hit record. I have the first 36 hours of 11 Sept. on tape. I watch them every anniversary so that, no matter what, I will never forget.
And I won’t. I don’t think I could if I tried. I remember the planes hitting their targets. I remember the people—that walking wounded in New York—covered in ash, soot, blood and concrete dust. And once the news poured in about who had carried this out, my blood pressure went through the roof. The predecessor to Pres. Bush hadn’t done his job. He didn’t make America safer. He made her weaker. He didn’t do his job. He refused to engage these animals when they popped up. And since that day, more and more has come out in regard to what Pres. Clinton hadn’t done. It was beyond irritating.
However, had it not been for 11 Sept., no one would have ever read what I write because I wouldn’t have put it out. I wouldn’t have become a blogger. I wouldn’t have developed the contacts around the country like I have. And I probably never would have met my esteemed partner in crime. I have a lot to remember about that day. I have a lot to be thankful for because of the events of that day. Would I trade what I have for 11 Sept. to have never happened? Well, all but one? Sure. You bet. If I could snap my fingers and take that day away, prevent it from ever occurring, of course I would. But I can’t. I have to live with the memories. And so do we all.
We will never forget that day, and we will continue to persevere through this war. God Bless America, and God Bless our troops. And in closing, I'm reminded about the banner on the Mudville Gazette site:
"Good people sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."
Publius II
ADDENDUM: On this day of remembrance I found this site: http://www.gunstuff.com/america-attacked.html Go there and view the video they have put together. I had not shed tears since that day, and the images there brough them back. Go there, and never forget what happened that day.
posted by Syd And Vaughn | 6:02 PM
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