Monday, September 12, 2011
My Messy Life: It was just another day; and all of my heroes had ...
My Messy Life: It was just another day; and all of my heroes had ...: As we all keep reading and hearing - it was just another day. Clear skies across the country and normal people going about their normal rout...
It was just another day; and all of my heroes had it in common...
As we all keep reading and hearing - it was just another day. Clear skies across the country and normal people going about their normal routines. Everyone knows what happened on that gorgeous Tuesday. The world changed and so many heroes walked through our lives.
One reads this and hears it from almost anyone over the age of 14. It was the end of the summer and people were starting the routines with school and in my case, the final push to wrap up another year at work. I was living near the beach and working in downtown Los Angeles. My office had amazing views towards the south and west. I used to watch the airplanes in their landing patterns approach LAX or sometimes I would look down Grand and watch the sunset as it set behind the Library Tower about a half block from my building. I enjoyed those small breaks in my day until they took on such a different meaning. Days without planes in the sky. The Library Tower was another target we later learned.
Funny how you can look back at ordinary conversations and they take on such meaning with time. The Saturday prior to the 11th I spoke with my (somewhat) older brother D who was in the Air Force and stationed at Offut AFB in Nebraska. At that time he worked in National Security and mentioned he would be traveling to Florida for work during the week. On Sunday the SO - who at that time was just the BF - and I went to LAX to have a drink with my (oldest) brother C and faux Uncle. They were traveling to the Reno Air Show. They had a long layover between their flight from DC and the commuter flight to Reno. The SO was meeting the faux Uncle for the first time and this was a big deal. We had a great time talking about my father and sharing stories of our childhood. My faux Uncle pulled me aside at the end of our time in the airport and gave the SO his stamp of approval. It was also my nephew Boy's fourth birthday over the weekend. I remember thinking how grownup he was starting to sound when we spoke on the phone although he didn't like to have the long conversations his sisters would have with me. His dad, my Irish twin, and I spoke - mostly about trying to get together soon and we hung up. I have a friend, or close acquaintance, who at that time was a self described Connecticut housewife. She thinks of herself as a meek person and that morning was planning her family's annual ski vacation over the holidays.
The skies were as clear and blue in Los Angeles as they were in New York, Pennsylvania and DC. When my day got underway I already knew about the first plane and learned more incrementally as I headed to my office. But this isn't my story about my experience that day. It is the story about how heroes are born or shown to us.
My brother D was traveling with the President that day as part of the National Operations Team that shadows the President in his daily activities. D and I did not speak again until after Christmas. He, and others who serve on those teams were truly the first deployed. My sister in law (L) deserves a medal or at least a special piece of jewelry. Having said that, she just wanted her husband home with their daughter. L - like so many military spouses then and now; immediately became the sole and primary caregiver to my niece - Gorgeous K. K was was 7 and K was confused. They had no notice about Daddy's trip being extended; it wasn't on their calendar that marked his trips. She just knew that he wasn't coming home and that it was somehow tied to what was on tv. In the beginning she thought he was attacked and missing; later she asked Santa to send him home for Christmas. Their family settled into a new normal. They were fortunate because they could meet for a day periodically. D has never really talked about the events of that day. He is my immediate older brother who always entertained me, taught me how to read and do math. He has always been a hero to me and became a hero for all of us that day.
C was in Reno and was unable to leave there for something like 10 days. He was there to support a friend who was racing and to combine his two personal passions - mechanics and airplanes. He had never been away from his family for more that a couple of days and was awed by the response of people in Reno. They took in people attending the races; made sure the attendees had food, water and things to do until they could head home. It was difficult for him and his family but he had the perspective that this was nothing compared to what other families were going through all over the United States. I think we spoke more on the phone that week than we normally talked in a month. C was always a hero to my younger siblings and me but really became one during that time. He never complained and was so calming to us while we worried about D and his family. He attained superhero status for me.
Now the faux Uncle was always a hero to us and was DoD's (aka Dear Old Dad's) closest friend. He had served two tours in Vietnam when I was younger. We used to include him in our nightly prayers as well as the faux Aunt and Cousins. Little did we know that on that day his son; our faux cousin - would lose a friend who was a pilot. We add faux cousin to my list of heroes because he has always stood for what he believes in and doing the right thing. The faux cousin's friend died doing what he loved and that is heroic.
The little guy, Boy didn't understand what was going on. The TV was on and his Dad, the Irish Twin, ended up being home from work. Boy knew enough to understand that everyone was worried about his Uncle D (who probably was one of the safest people in the country) and that the adults were upset. The little guy is now taller than I am and is on track to become an Eagle Scout. Service to others is ingrained in his personality. He is my hero and I am certain will emerge as one to all of us in some capacity as he grows up.
Everyone knows that there was a horrific loss of life that day and there were many heroes and angels. The world had gaping holes; families had empty seats at their tables. The world became a small town. My family wasn't directly affected by knowing someone who was lost that day but we had our ties to NY, Pennsylvania and DC. If you flash forward to 2011 those empty seats affected us directly.
I used to take American Flight 77 from Dulles to LAX on Mondays or Tuesdays after visiting family or friends in DC. It was great because I could still get in a pretty full workday after flying all morning. Over time I learned that a former colleague (who I only met but didn't really know) had perished when the second plane entered his Tower through his office at Fuji Bank. The SO knew this person and he also lost another former colleague that morning. It is still surreal seeing those names on lists or in stories about the World Trade Center. All of those who perished that day are my heroes.
As the story goes the then BF officially became the SO and we moved to our slice of heaven in the mountains of Utah in 2004. We realized that our closest neighbors had a few children and they seemed to be in a home headed by a single mother. Until I spent some time with her and learned that her husband was a reservist. In their non-military life he was a neurosurgeon specializing in trauma such as gunshots. He ended up serving 4 tours during our 6 and a half year stay in Utah. And his family was grateful because while he was gone he could Skype with his children and help them with their homework via email. That family is among my heroes.
I became friendly with a woman in our small town through mutual friends and shared interests. We were invited to a holiday party at her home in 2006 and she confided that she hadn't entertained in a number of years; pretty much since she moved to Utah. While at her house she took me into her office to show me pictures of her new grandchild and as we turned I saw many drawings on the walls. Most were framed with notes from school children. Our hostess lost her husband in one of the towers. She describes herself as not so confident; I think she is amazing. She now has grandchildren and many new joys that she should've shared with her husband. Her eyes are still sad at times and weary. She would be surprised to learn that she is my hero.
I have a college friend who I lost touch with for many years. Thanks to facebook we were able to reconnect. She is an amazing blogger; she writes from the heart and still has the sense of humor I recall from #$%& years ago. Her birthday is on September 11th and it is difficult for her. She blogs sometimes about one of her heroes - Pat Tillman. He was part of her extended family and represents for so many a hero who was a leader and one who believed in service. He left an empty seat at their family's table and she is passionate about furthering his message and that of the Pat Tillman Foundation (http://www.pattillmanfoundation.org/). And for that she is my hero.
And this post is my tribute to all of those who serve or are unknowingly pulled into situations that call for leadership, service or sacrifice. They rise to the challenge and even if they don't know it become my heroes.
One reads this and hears it from almost anyone over the age of 14. It was the end of the summer and people were starting the routines with school and in my case, the final push to wrap up another year at work. I was living near the beach and working in downtown Los Angeles. My office had amazing views towards the south and west. I used to watch the airplanes in their landing patterns approach LAX or sometimes I would look down Grand and watch the sunset as it set behind the Library Tower about a half block from my building. I enjoyed those small breaks in my day until they took on such a different meaning. Days without planes in the sky. The Library Tower was another target we later learned.
Funny how you can look back at ordinary conversations and they take on such meaning with time. The Saturday prior to the 11th I spoke with my (somewhat) older brother D who was in the Air Force and stationed at Offut AFB in Nebraska. At that time he worked in National Security and mentioned he would be traveling to Florida for work during the week. On Sunday the SO - who at that time was just the BF - and I went to LAX to have a drink with my (oldest) brother C and faux Uncle. They were traveling to the Reno Air Show. They had a long layover between their flight from DC and the commuter flight to Reno. The SO was meeting the faux Uncle for the first time and this was a big deal. We had a great time talking about my father and sharing stories of our childhood. My faux Uncle pulled me aside at the end of our time in the airport and gave the SO his stamp of approval. It was also my nephew Boy's fourth birthday over the weekend. I remember thinking how grownup he was starting to sound when we spoke on the phone although he didn't like to have the long conversations his sisters would have with me. His dad, my Irish twin, and I spoke - mostly about trying to get together soon and we hung up. I have a friend, or close acquaintance, who at that time was a self described Connecticut housewife. She thinks of herself as a meek person and that morning was planning her family's annual ski vacation over the holidays.
The skies were as clear and blue in Los Angeles as they were in New York, Pennsylvania and DC. When my day got underway I already knew about the first plane and learned more incrementally as I headed to my office. But this isn't my story about my experience that day. It is the story about how heroes are born or shown to us.
My brother D was traveling with the President that day as part of the National Operations Team that shadows the President in his daily activities. D and I did not speak again until after Christmas. He, and others who serve on those teams were truly the first deployed. My sister in law (L) deserves a medal or at least a special piece of jewelry. Having said that, she just wanted her husband home with their daughter. L - like so many military spouses then and now; immediately became the sole and primary caregiver to my niece - Gorgeous K. K was was 7 and K was confused. They had no notice about Daddy's trip being extended; it wasn't on their calendar that marked his trips. She just knew that he wasn't coming home and that it was somehow tied to what was on tv. In the beginning she thought he was attacked and missing; later she asked Santa to send him home for Christmas. Their family settled into a new normal. They were fortunate because they could meet for a day periodically. D has never really talked about the events of that day. He is my immediate older brother who always entertained me, taught me how to read and do math. He has always been a hero to me and became a hero for all of us that day.
C was in Reno and was unable to leave there for something like 10 days. He was there to support a friend who was racing and to combine his two personal passions - mechanics and airplanes. He had never been away from his family for more that a couple of days and was awed by the response of people in Reno. They took in people attending the races; made sure the attendees had food, water and things to do until they could head home. It was difficult for him and his family but he had the perspective that this was nothing compared to what other families were going through all over the United States. I think we spoke more on the phone that week than we normally talked in a month. C was always a hero to my younger siblings and me but really became one during that time. He never complained and was so calming to us while we worried about D and his family. He attained superhero status for me.
Now the faux Uncle was always a hero to us and was DoD's (aka Dear Old Dad's) closest friend. He had served two tours in Vietnam when I was younger. We used to include him in our nightly prayers as well as the faux Aunt and Cousins. Little did we know that on that day his son; our faux cousin - would lose a friend who was a pilot. We add faux cousin to my list of heroes because he has always stood for what he believes in and doing the right thing. The faux cousin's friend died doing what he loved and that is heroic.
The little guy, Boy didn't understand what was going on. The TV was on and his Dad, the Irish Twin, ended up being home from work. Boy knew enough to understand that everyone was worried about his Uncle D (who probably was one of the safest people in the country) and that the adults were upset. The little guy is now taller than I am and is on track to become an Eagle Scout. Service to others is ingrained in his personality. He is my hero and I am certain will emerge as one to all of us in some capacity as he grows up.
Everyone knows that there was a horrific loss of life that day and there were many heroes and angels. The world had gaping holes; families had empty seats at their tables. The world became a small town. My family wasn't directly affected by knowing someone who was lost that day but we had our ties to NY, Pennsylvania and DC. If you flash forward to 2011 those empty seats affected us directly.
I used to take American Flight 77 from Dulles to LAX on Mondays or Tuesdays after visiting family or friends in DC. It was great because I could still get in a pretty full workday after flying all morning. Over time I learned that a former colleague (who I only met but didn't really know) had perished when the second plane entered his Tower through his office at Fuji Bank. The SO knew this person and he also lost another former colleague that morning. It is still surreal seeing those names on lists or in stories about the World Trade Center. All of those who perished that day are my heroes.
As the story goes the then BF officially became the SO and we moved to our slice of heaven in the mountains of Utah in 2004. We realized that our closest neighbors had a few children and they seemed to be in a home headed by a single mother. Until I spent some time with her and learned that her husband was a reservist. In their non-military life he was a neurosurgeon specializing in trauma such as gunshots. He ended up serving 4 tours during our 6 and a half year stay in Utah. And his family was grateful because while he was gone he could Skype with his children and help them with their homework via email. That family is among my heroes.
I became friendly with a woman in our small town through mutual friends and shared interests. We were invited to a holiday party at her home in 2006 and she confided that she hadn't entertained in a number of years; pretty much since she moved to Utah. While at her house she took me into her office to show me pictures of her new grandchild and as we turned I saw many drawings on the walls. Most were framed with notes from school children. Our hostess lost her husband in one of the towers. She describes herself as not so confident; I think she is amazing. She now has grandchildren and many new joys that she should've shared with her husband. Her eyes are still sad at times and weary. She would be surprised to learn that she is my hero.
I have a college friend who I lost touch with for many years. Thanks to facebook we were able to reconnect. She is an amazing blogger; she writes from the heart and still has the sense of humor I recall from #$%& years ago. Her birthday is on September 11th and it is difficult for her. She blogs sometimes about one of her heroes - Pat Tillman. He was part of her extended family and represents for so many a hero who was a leader and one who believed in service. He left an empty seat at their family's table and she is passionate about furthering his message and that of the Pat Tillman Foundation (http://www.pattillmanfoundation.org/). And for that she is my hero.
And this post is my tribute to all of those who serve or are unknowingly pulled into situations that call for leadership, service or sacrifice. They rise to the challenge and even if they don't know it become my heroes.
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