My 911 Story

There are as many different stories about 911 as there are people in this world. No one has exactly the same experience from that day, even if you were standing right next to the same person all day long. We all think and react differently. Every story I’ve heard of someone recalling that day has been an interesting study in the human spirit. Some felt panic, some anger, some overwhelming sadness. I guess I feel like I’d like to finally share my story although it is the same as many others because it is also completely unique in itself.

I watched the NBC morning show on TV, as I always did. It was very normal and mundane. I drank my coffee and dressed and got ready to go to work. I snapped off the television with no more thought as to the news of the day. It was a day just like any other.

I got into my car, and the sun was shining brightly on an otherwise ordinary fall day. I drove through the regular morning traffic with everyone else, listening to the morning radio show and the banal banter of the underwhelming radio show hosts. I had gone about ten miles from home when the DJ’s repeated and ruminated about a report that a plane had hit the Twin Towers. They and I reasoned that some huge idiot must have hit it with their plane. I’m sure I wrinkled my face in confusion. Did someone lose control? Was it a suicide? Weird. A minute or two later they added on the news that a second plane had hit the towers. This time it was speculated on the news release that they had been airliners. Airliners. That news swept over me like the switch of the lake wind that suddenly drops the Duluth temperature down thirty degrees in a matter of minutes. The day was no longer ordinary.

About five minutes later I walked into work at the zoo. There were only three of us there and everyone had heard the unusual news. As it turned out I had shown up for the wrong shift and was two hours early. We set up a tv that generally sat unplugged and unused in the office. There on the screen were the Twin Towers billowing with smoke. I sat riveted and unbelieving as the cameras focused on the sight while reporters updated us with information that was filtering in. I remember hearing an estimate that, on any given morning, there could be around 10,000 occupants in the two combined buildings. I know other news trickled in amongst the horrific image of New York burning: the Pentagon hit, other planes missing, witness accounts. I couldn’t tell what was happening as the first tower collapsed until it was fully down and the reporters explained what they were seeing. In my mind, all I could do was add up the numbers, the sheer numbers of the people that might have been caught in it. Tears were pouring down my face. Then the next tower went down and, even now I have to stop typing to dry my eyes. The loss of human life was staggering to me. The line from Star Wars always comes to mind “…it was as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced.”

Two hours later there was still chaos and confusion, conflicting reports, and footage coming in. I had to go to work. I had to work admissions and smile and welcome guests like this was a typical, ordinary day. It was beautiful and sunny, and I couldn’t figure out who would feel like visiting a zoo with an attack on our country unfolding. Well, if you’re a Canadian on vacation you’re going to be on vacation. It was a slow day and I listened to updates on the radio, counting the minutes until I could be home.

Here’s the thing. As an introverted, emotional, creative type of person, I can get knocked down on a typical day from a report of an animal getting injured or killed. A human tragedy really hits me hard. This, this was off the scale. My mind was trying to just stay above water and function. When I got home and began my obsession with this event, I cried so much that I thought I would never stop. The sickening feeling of the loss of so many lives, the incomprehension of such a level of hate from the attackers, the panic of not knowing for sure that it was over were a combination of feelings that couldn’t be easily set aside.

I remember all planes were grounded. Duluth is a small city with an international airport. The silence in the sky was noticeable, especially when it was pock-marked by the streaking of fighter jets from the National Guard unit. Our co-workers, who were at a conference in Iowa had to rent a car to drive back to Duluth.

After a few days, while I was still focused relentlessly on the updates, I realized that watching the planes hitting the towers every twenty minutes was damaging my psyche. It just brought thoughts of what the passengers went through, what the people in the buildings went through and what all the families were going through back to the front of my mind. I kept hoping they would find survivors. I was relieved to hear that the buildings were not at the 10,000-occupancy rate originally estimated.

I watched a CEO of one of the companies with offices at the top of the towers being interviewed about the loss of his staff. To see a CEO break down in tears, in uncontrolled sorrow was something I never expected. I remember thinking that he was “not going to be right” and would need a lot of therapy. I wonder how he’s doing these days. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone follow up with him.

I have one good memory of this awful event, and that is the unity I felt with all Americans, as short-lived as it was. I drove the seven-hour drive to Milwaukee shortly after 9-11. I remember seeing flags everywhere. I even saw some people standing on an overpass waving a giant flag. It burned in me the belief that, no matter how divided we are in our beliefs in policy in this country, we certainly believe in its spirit and our pride as a nation. We seem to get caught up in petty competitions about who is more patriotic, and who is disrespecting our country: flag, constitution, anthem, etc. I think that saying politicians don’t care about this country or its citizens is ever fair to say. We all care. We absolutely all want this country and the ideals it upholds to succeed.

It took many years before I could watch the video of those giant planes hitting the towers again. Even today it still makes the hair on my arms stand up in a creepy, surreal feeling. I hope I never have to bear witness to another event like that again. I don’t understand how people can watch movies of apocalyptic or terrorist scenarios. I will always remember the unspeakable sadness and intense horror I felt when those towers came down on what could’ve been 10,000 people. Watching as the whole world explodes, or millions, thousands, any people die is not entertaining in any way to me. And no movie or special effects will ever compare to the reality that unfolded on 9-11.

Walk Up? Walk this!

I am highly opposed to bullying, by adults and kids. I’m always a fan of karma coming back to bite those who choose to use their life to belittle, torture or ostracize others. I also am a fan of kindness and compassion and going out of your way to be nice to someone who seems lonely, different or shy. Let’s face it, we can always use more kindness in this world. That being said, I’m frustrated by the meme that’s circling on Facebook that talks about “Walking Up” instead of “Walking out”, as in walk up and talk to the kid in the corner who’s all alone. Again, I don’t disagree that it’s good to reach out to someone who feels like they are lost and left out. However, this meme is in response to the most recent school shooting at Parkland. I like many others, have been curious as to how this young man turned into a killing machine. How did the world go so wrong for him to have turned out this way? So I’ve read every article I could find on this man’s life. There was one story that had been written after interviewing his adopted Mom’s neighbor. She saw that, even when he was a toddler, he had issues with anger and violence. She was nice to him, and her son was friends with him. She would even feed him sometimes when he didn’t get fed at home. But as he grew she saw more and more signs of a deeper personality problem, to the point where she finally told her son not to hang out with him anymore because she was concerned for his safety. He gave off that vibe. It was not an “I’m different” vibe, it was a scary “I’m dangerous” vibe. A vibe more like, “If you piss me off, I will kill you” kind of vibe. I would rather we teach our kids to be kind to everyone and go the extra mile to reach out to the shy outsiders but to also teach them to trust their gut instincts! Especially in the #metoo era, I think it’s important for kids to know when they feel something isn’t right and act accordingly. Now by “accordingly” I don’t mean bully the kid who obviously scares the crap out of you. I mean don’t talk to them, about them, or call them out. Report them to authorities (as did many of his peers) and then leave it be.

I don’t want to talk in generalities, but some of the people I see posting this meme, or similar ones about befriending people who are alone and different, are also the ones who think our youth are “snowflakes” who get offended easily and should just learn to tough it out. Well, it seems to me that you can’t have it both ways. If kids should tough it out and take the bullying, because that’s just life, then some will get pissed off and go shoot people. Otherwise, we should have the “bullying awareness education”, elevate kids’ on how to be aware of what offends people, and how it’s not acceptable be a jerk and hurt people with what you say.

I know that sometimes people get offended by comments of others who aren’t aware of an offensive term. Should one go ballistic if it was an unintentional offense or slight though? Who can say how offensive it came across except the individual who heard it. And different individuals will have different levels of tolerance to such things. Some will say something and politely explain the problem, some will scream angrily, some will cry, some will stay silent and, maybe later decide to make a very deadly response.

So we keep volleying the “snowflake” term back and forth, which stymies any progress and unity that could occur. If you call me a snowflake it’s because you are snowflake yourself and can’t stand hearing the truth that I speak- that is the message.

I don’t know what I’m asking here. Maybe just that we empower our youth to be themselves, to be confident in who they are, to judge others less, to try to understand others so that you don’t end up offending them (because offending someone is NOT a good thing. If you ever find yourself celebrating the fact that you “triggered” someone, you need to take a serious look at why that makes you feel good or why that would be your goal. Even if the person is a total asshole who likes to trigger others, wouldn’t a celebration happen if they were moved to rethink their position? Triggering them will only make them double down on any perceived idiocy.) but also follow your gut. All my worst decisions have come when I didn’t follow my gut. Wish I’d have realized that at a much younger age!

The Parkland shooting was not caused by the students. They knew he was dangerous and logically stayed away from him. It was caused by a person who had psychological issues.

The issue of mental illness is another whole topic as far as I’m concerned. There was a show I watched that was called “Most Evil” on the Discovery Channel. I found it interesting because it seemed like there were so many instances where, as children, had someone stepped in to stop the abuse, neglect or dysfunctional family situations, maybe these people wouldn’t have turned into killers. Our community only sees what it wants to see sometimes. We turn a blind eye so that we don’t have to get involved, put ourselves in possible danger, or attract drama to our lives. I’m not saying it’s always or everyone because know there are people out there who are kicking ass and taking names every day. But all it takes is one child to slip through the cracks and we may have a future killer on our hands. There aren’t a lot of details out there on the Parkland shooter’s life, but for starters, he didn’t have his biological parents, lost his adopted Dad when he was young, was raised by what seemed like a stressed-out single mom who locked the food cabinets because she needed to ration it. Then he lost his adopted mom as well. Since I can’t speak for anyone else, I’ll just say that his life sucked A LOT more than mine and most of the people I know. Add a mental illness on top of that, a system of community support that failed him and you have a recipe for disaster.

There’s my rant, bad grammar and all. Love each other, people!