One September Morning....
One September morning I rubbed the sleep from my eyes in
time to see the unimaginable come across my T.V. screen. While smoke was still
billowing from the first tower, what looks like a 747 plows into one of the
second tower, live on NBC's Today Show. With a quick call into work and a
shower I got into my car and ventured out into a very different world.
My office mate Lesa Rasmussen opened the door and then locked it behind me. She and Cathy Paskin immediately confirmed my worst fears, we were under complete lock down until further notice. The Assembly member was at an undisclosed location with the other members of the Legislature. At the time, no one knew if we were dealing with homegrown terrorists or something even worse. The three of us spent the next few hours watching the news coverage on a small television in the relative safety of the inner office. Word finally came around two o'clock that we could go home. Our world that had been turned inside out in a matter of minutes would never be the same again.
Winding my out of the cul de sac and out to the freeway,
the scene was a surreal. At the top of the off-ramp I looked out onto a
deserted Highway 99. Driving past Livingston and Atwater there was no traffic
coming in the opposite direction. Merced was nearly deserted with the exception
of a couple of police vehicles parked in front of 1810 “K” Street. Fire Chief Ken Mitten came
rolling by to make sure all was well and then he was off.
My office mate Lesa Rasmussen opened the door and then locked it behind me. She and Cathy Paskin immediately confirmed my worst fears, we were under complete lock down until further notice. The Assembly member was at an undisclosed location with the other members of the Legislature. At the time, no one knew if we were dealing with homegrown terrorists or something even worse. The three of us spent the next few hours watching the news coverage on a small television in the relative safety of the inner office. Word finally came around two o'clock that we could go home. Our world that had been turned inside out in a matter of minutes would never be the same again.
It felt so good to be home even though I couldn't shake the
sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. A call went out to check on mom and the
grandparents who were relieved to know that at least we were home and safe. Grandma
had already checked in to make sure that
all seven grand kids and their extended families were safe and sound.
I expected the wall to wall
coverage on television, but the realization of what had happened set in when
all non essential channels went off the air until further notice. My wife and I
spent the rest of that day flipping back and forth between CNN and RTPI international ( Radio Television Portugal
International). RTPI's coverage proved
to be very graphic, much more so than its' American counterpart.
The days quickly turned into weeks and the months into
years. Christmas that year was a quiet affair given that everyone of us were
still numb from the events of September 11th. We all learned to
watch for suspicious activity in our neighborhoods that might be dangerous.
Although suspects were hauled in, they never did find those responsible for
sending Anthrax laced letters to state and federal offices. It felt good when
the bombs fell on Afghanistan and the Taliban was run out of town. I can
remember thinking “they aren't done yet, why the hell are we invading Iraq?”
An intern's disappearance in Washington brought down a once
invincible valley congressman. Loyalties were tested and long held cannons
shattered in the wreckage that followed. Jobs started to get scarce even though
the housing market continued its' climb to the stratosphere. The valley's death
spiral had begun in earnest with the
consequences to come by the truck load.
The war in Iraq turned into a killing field and we couldn't
get any straight answers from Washington. When the bodies started coming home
the questions from everyday Americans only got louder. Then came reports of
secret prisons and enhanced interrogations that included something called water
boarding.
The attempts to bring down planes and the United States
with them didn't end on that clear September morning. Thankfully none
succeeded, but that old familiar feeling of fear and apprehension always return
ever so briefly. Bin Laden lies at the bottom of the Indian Ocean and Khalid
Sheik Mohamed will never see the light of day, but how many more are lying in
wait for the opportunity to be the next martyr for the cause.
A small band of zealots managed to leave their mark on the
mightiest nation in the world that lasts to this day. I'm not so sure we will
ever shake that feeling every time we
take off our shoes at an airport check point. Eleven years on now we
will mark the anniversary with solemn reverence for the lost and their
families. Memorials will be held and
bells will toll at Ground Zero, lest we ever forget that September morning....
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