{"id":4740,"date":"2021-09-12T09:01:02","date_gmt":"2021-09-12T13:01:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/dahlman.online\/?p=4740"},"modified":"2021-09-12T09:20:24","modified_gmt":"2021-09-12T13:20:24","slug":"stories-of-9-11","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dahlman.online\/index.php\/2021\/09\/12\/stories-of-9-11\/","title":{"rendered":"Stories of 9-11"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

So it’s Sunday, and this is another Sunday Story – in fact, several of them. And they all have to do with 9-11, twenty years ago.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

History<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

The terrorists attacks of 9-11 left a deep wound on the United States.  There are a lot of \u201cbefores\u201d.  \u201cBefore\u201d 9-11, we acted with abandon, as if terrorist attacks couldn\u2019t happen here.  Sure we had our own home-grown terrorists, like Timothy McVeigh who launched the devastating attack on the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in 1995.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But somehow that was different.  As horrible as it was, it was targeted against the government.  It was, to use the phrase of the Kennedy  assassination conspiracies, a \u201clone gunman\u201d kind of assault.  And there was the original attack on the World Trade Center, in 1993.  But it failed, and it too seemed like a \u201clone gunman\u201d kind of thing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

(The Oklahoma City Memorial<\/a> to the 168 killed and many more wounded is just a moving as the 9-11 Memorial<\/a> in New York, or the Shanksville Memorial<\/a> in Pennsylvania.  All are absolutely worth visiting.)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But 9-11 was different.  We talk of 9-11 as our generation\u2019s Pearl Harbor, but Pearl Harbor was a military assault on a base by a known world enemy.  9-11 used our own planes and our own citizens as the weapons of destruction.  And it while government buildings were on \u201cthe list\u201d; with the Pentagon hit, and the Capitol or White House next; the World Trade Center and Shanksville were civilian, with civilian victims.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

So 9-11 was different.  It changed how we travelled, and, right or wrong, how we looked at some of our fellow citizens.  It made us afraid:  of the mall, the ballgame, the airport.  Many stayed close to home for a long time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Family<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

After 9-11, I felt it was my obligation as a teacher to learn as much about who attacked us, and why, as I possibly could.  That way I could pass that knowledge onto my classes, seventeen and eighteen year old\u2019s whose nation was attacked, and who might become the \u201cpoint of the spear\u201d in our military response.  That week, from Tuesday morning on, has the crystal clear memory of any horrific event.   It takes very little effort, even twenty years later, to go right back to those moments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On a personal level, I was worried about my parents.  They were supposed to leave for England on Thursday.  As members of the \u201cGreatest Generation”, the warriors of World War II, neither Mom nor Dad was easily frightened by terrorists.  They were stubborn, but it was more than just the journey.  It was about \u201cwinning\u201d.  They, and particularly Dad, weren\u2019t going to let the terrorists \u201cwin\u201d by stopping them, and preventing Mom from going home to see her family.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So Wednesday there was a lot of \u201ctalk\u201d in the family, about driving to Canada to fly out, or re-routing trips to be on the first planes back in service.  So while I was cramming myself to teach the kids, I was also trying to talk Mom and Dad back \u201cfrom the cliff\u2019.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

New Jersey<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

And I was also worried about my sister.  She and her husband were adopted New Yorkers, who lived in Brooklyn for many years.  Now they had a place in Lyndhurst, just across the Hudson from Manhattan in New Jersey.  My brother-in-law was in Manhattan when the planes struck, going to work.  His train from New Jersey passed underneath the World Trade Center shortly before the planes struck, and he spent many hours that day walking back home after the disaster.  They didn\u2019t have cell phones then, so for a lot of the hours my sister didn\u2019t know his fate.  But she could walk half a block up the road, and see Manhattan, and the smoke and ash from the destruction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By Tuesday night we knew they were safe, but they still seemed incredibly vulnerable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stakes for the Tent<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

While I was powering through in the classroom, I was also worried about my kids, the boys and girls cross country team.  In the classroom we learned about the attackers and their history, but out on the course I hoped we could do \u201cthe normal thing\u201d, to have one regular part of their day.  Sure we discussed what was happening, but I wanted the kids to feel that their life could go on, perhaps altered, but still might be \u201cregular\u201d.  We practiced, and we prepared for our Saturday meet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A cross country \u201ctradition\u201d is the big Black and Gold tent that we pitch at each meet.  It is our \u201cheadquarters\u201d, where we meet, leave our stuff, find our parents, and shelter from the rain.  And we needed more tent stakes, something that I\u2019d left to Friday night after practice.  Friday also happened to be my birthday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I was driving to buy tent stakes.  And I was talking to Mom and Dad on the phone, about cancelled trips and birthdays.  And I was kind of \u201czoned\u201d from everything that was going on that week.  As I entered Broad Street at 5:30 in the afternoon, I looked both ways, saw nothing, and pulled out.  I then looked left again, just in time to see the compact silver car smash into my driver\u2019s side door at forty miles an hour.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Suburban<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

All my fault.  I was in my Chevy Suburban, a big \u201cSecret Service\u201d type car.  It took the blow well, but the impact was hard enough to break the wheels off the axle and bend the roof above the door, totaling the car.  I managed to get out, and checked on the other driver.  It was a man and his wife, and their small child who was in the back seat.  The man had airbag burns on his arms, his wife was stunned, and the child had a cut lip.  It wasn\u2019t good, but could have been so much worse.  I was thankful for that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two things stood out in my mind in those moments, once I realized no one was badly hurt.  First, that all around the wreck there were empty beer cans.  They didn\u2019t come from my car, and I really don\u2019t know whether it was from his, or just dumped by the road.  But I knew that I wanted a blood alcohol test at the hospital, so that there was a record of my non-drinking state.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And the second thing that stands out was what a witness said as they overheard my discussion with the Pataskala Police.  I told them what happened, and made sure the officer understood that the silver car was in no-way to blame.  And the witness said to someone, \u201cThat\u2019s the most honest thing I\u2019ve ever heard\u201d.  I thought that was silly, it was clear what happened, why would anyone even try to lie about it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was transported to the hospital with a possible concussion.  The guys on the squad were former students, and asked if they could practice putting in an IV line, even though they didn\u2019t think I needed it.  That turned out to be my worst injury the bruises from the IV, but was a small price to pay for their care. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Key Largo<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Fifteen years later, we retired. Like many couples, Jenn and I wanted to do some travelling.  In 2016 we decided to take a week on the Florida Keys.  We flew down to Miami, rented a Jeep, took the top down and headed to Key Largo to hang out with the iguanas by the swimming pool, look for manatees by the dock, and drink a lot of mojitos, a mix of rum, mint, sugar and lime.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We managed to make it down to the city of Key West for a day, a place that we both would like to re-visit and spend more time.  It\u2019s a town that can make a party out of the sunset, with hundreds gathering on the pier and cheering the sun going down.  There\u2019s a few mojitos served there as well.  Maybe more than a few.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We also took the glass-bottomed boat tour out of Key Largo, to see the coral and sea life.  As we waited on the dock to board the boat, an older oriental couple sat down beside us.  We began a casual conversation with the man, Mr. Young, who was from New York.  We were headed to the \u201cBig Apple\u201d the next week, and he was excited to tell us about his city, and the restaurants, and how to get authentic Chinese food.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Red Bandana<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Then he started to talk about his wife, who was there beside him.  He introduced us to her, Ling Young.  She was a 9-11 survivor from the 78th Floor of the World Trade Center, saved by a hero of that day, the man with the \u201cRed Bandana<\/a>\u201d.   Ling was badly burned when the plane struck the building, and was surrounded by those killed in the attack.  Through the smoke came a young man with a red bandana over his face, who got her to the stairwell, and down to the 61st floor.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he urged her to continue to safety, and turned around and went back up to the fire.  She managed to escape, the young man, later identified as twenty-four year old Welles Crowther, did not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs. Young had horrible burns, and told us there were more than twenty surgeries.  She became a leader of the 9-11 survivor movement, helping the victims, but also keeping alive the memory of heroes.  Mr. Young told us about how she didn\u2019t like to speak in public that much, but, as he said, \u201cWhen Vice President Biden calls on the phone and asks, you go\u201d.  And now we were getting on the glass bottom boat with them.  We enjoyed the trip, but learned so much more about strength and real heroism, than coral and barracudas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yesterday<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

For twenty years I avoided videos of 9-11.  It was all too fresh in my mind.  It took several years to be able to see twin-engine jets speeding across the sky without thinking about it, not a good thing when you live on the landing approach to Columbus Airport.  So I avoided the video of the planes flying into the buildings, the smoke and ash clouds boiling through the streets.  Those were all still to fresh, too close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But this year I could watch without re-entering that time.  That\u2019s good, not just for me, but for America.  9-11, for many Americans, has stopped being an open wound.  Now it\u2019s a scar, a symbol of the memory of pain and fear, but not the pain and fear itself.  That\u2019s at least true for me, but probably not for Ling Young, or the parents of Welles Crowther, and all of those others who lost their loved ones on that day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n