Tuesday Morning 15 Years Ago

Many of us have memories of that fateful Tuesday morning fifteen years ago. The empathy and deepest sympathy incurred that day are surly some of the strongest that have been shared among all the people of the world. It planted profound and intense memories.

If you are old enough, do you still vividly see in your mind’s eye the events as they unfolded? I do. Although there was no personal loss for me I still shudder when I think of what the survivors and loved ones must still feel.

My job required us to stay abreast of the latest news that could affect the state of the national special telephone equipment we had to keep running. I can still see the TV screens. I looked from screen to screen around the room, not believing what was showing on one, hoping it would be different on another. Sure enough the circuits locked up. No telephone circuit could be prepared for that amount of traffic.

Once the shock subsided the thought of my own loved ones arrived front and center. Daughter was stationed at a Master Jet base. She would be powerfully engaged in activity as an ordinance technician. I would have to wait to hear from her I knew. I believed she would be safe. Still I anxiously awaited that confirmation. My granddaughter was in my care until the end of the current school year, 5th grade. School was still in session so I knew she, too, would be cared for and that the school officials would keep them from the scary news. Her aunt, our neighbor who worked at the school, would take her home until I left work; she would keep her from fear if she realized the part the military and her mother would play in this horrendous tragedy.

I wore red, white and blue to church today. There was absolutely no mention of it today by anyone, except one woman who wore a flag-styled top. She and I spoke after the service. Did I really expect the pastor to mention it? Maybe. Does it really matter? Is there a need nine-eleven-mefor us to be verbally reminded? Probably not. Strange though.

Times have changed in 15 years. The pain eases. We look for the good out of the ashes. Literally, I just read about a photographer who was in New York covering Hewett’s US Open win when his employer assigned him to document the tragedy. There in the gray world of rubble and ash he spotted an unburned photograph of a woman and baby. It is a good story, one of simply being somewhere else when the Trade Center went down. http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/special-features/in-depth/from-the-ashes-of-september-11/news-story/6171991f8bdb47ec86b401e12a014c7b

Dwelling on the past is never a good thing. The past is gone and can not be changed, that is the truth. Perhaps remembering “9-11” isn’t such a good thing. Let remembrances come upon us once in a while as they may, but make sure they leave quickly and we do not live there.

Stay in the Now, folks. That’s where it’s at!

Speaking of now, let’s get something crafty going on!

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