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Sunday, September 11, 2011

Remembering 9/11

When the phone rang, I was standing in the kitchen, mixing up a pound cake and watching reruns of “The Golden Girls.” 
“Mama, do you have the news on TV?”
“No.  Why?”
“A plane has crashed into the World Trade Center.  Hurry, turn to MSNC!”
I did as instructed and saw one of the hundreds of re-runs that would be aired of the first jet plowing into the side of the North Tower of the World Trade Center.  It was American Airlines Flight 11.  I slid to the floor, spatula in hand, rang off with Parrish and sat glued to the screen.
Tears were next, and like so many others, I uttered the name Osama bin Laden under my breath.  Rocking back and forth, the spatula and it’s cake batter dropped to a spat onto the floor, I hugged my knees and stared blankly at the screen.  
Clint was on the golf course, and I knew the club would get the news to him and his friends.  
Suddenly, I could not bear to be alone.  I stood up, not bothering to clean up the floor, and called Deidra at her office.  
“Can I come over there with you?  I don’t think I can go through this alone.”
“I’m three minutes away.  Come, please come.”
As the radio blared in my car, I heard the news that the South Tower had been hit by United Airlines Flight 175, and there was talk of other imminent attacks.  When I arrived at her office, Deidra and I held each other and wept.  We made coffee and sat holding hands as we watched footage of the towers collapsing before our eyes.  
There was news of two more planes that had been hijacked and were flying in the direction of the Pentagon and The White House.  American Airlines Flight 77 made it’s target, the Pentagon, killing 125 people.   Another 59 died in the plane 
(not counting the five terrorists). 63 were injured.
United Airlines Flight 93, crashed into a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania after a group of American Heroes tried to take control before it could reach the hijacker's intended target in Washington, D.C. 
Nearly 3,000 died in the attacks.
The day is a blurred memory for me, and I had to research the actual order of the hijacked planes used as missiles to kill American citizens.
Life in The United States of American was changed forever.  Ten years later, we are still afraid.  Our privacy has been compromised in the name of Homeland Security, and every one I know is praying this day will end without another attack.
I tried to write a poem about that day, but I have never been able to.  So, I’m linking to Jenny Matlock’s blog so you can read her touching piece.
Namaste, my Friends, Namaste..........cj
© cj Schlottman
September 11, 2011
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1 comment:

Martha Mawson said...
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