September 10th, 2001. Then and Now.

So here I sit in the ICU waiting room on September 10th, one day before the 12th anniversary when the United States lost what little innocence it had left before that most terrible day of days on 9/11. I think back and I have no idea what I was doing on that day before, other than the fact that had I called into a radio station and won the only thing I had ever won in my life, a pair of Atlanta Braves tickets and a DVD of the Baseball movie "61". I think Mark McGuire and Sammy Sosa were batting it out that year, both exchanging home runs with the advantage of steroids, all in pursuit of Roger Maris' 61 homers hit in one season. Difference was, Maris used nothing any stronger than Cow's milk and red meat for his energy. It was a good reason to watch baseball back then, and now, when I think about it, the tickets and the movie giveaway were in recognition of those two gents and the excitement surrounding that event. It was but a brief second in time, what amounted to a moment when I wasn't on the phone attending to one of my numerous bank customers. That or one of me and my and business partners many sub-contractors whose names were less important than their willingness to work fast and efficient, the primary requirement for success in any given field, much less our growing construction company we had build on dirt  and will power alone.

I just happened to have the radio in my truck up at the right volume, I was between calls, not thinking about who to call next; my wife, a friend, a boss or an employee. Right then all the planets had lined up properly, Even my phone was in dial mode, so in that split second the DJ rattled off the phone number and laid out his requirements: be caller number nine.

I entered the proper digits, pressed the send button and to my surprise, was answered with a ringing response, almost immediately. It must have rang seven or eight times, me perusing my schedule book and loosing interest and hope in why I was wasting my time on trying to win anything. I was moving the phone away from my ear, preparing to press the "END CALL" button and as I did, I heard a faint voice on the line...."HELLO, you are caller nine! Who am I speaking to?" I couldn't believe it. I shared my credentials with the DJ and was instructed by whatever person coordinating post-op affairs for the station, her telling me that I needed to come downtown on Peachtree street to their offices to pick up my winnings. I wrote down the address, then called my bride and told her about my good fortune. She was like me in that aspect, neither of us had ever won anything, so this was a treat for us both. Now I will confess, she won a puppy in a raffle she'd donated five bucks to a few years earlier, but I insisted she turn it down. She was a bit miffed, but I reminded her that stepping in dog doo-doo in the middle of the night was grounds for termination. Her disappointment was replaced by good common sense, knowing we still had our youngest daughter and our two high school aged kids at home. We'd both had our fill of poop with those three. We were busy dealing with the daily crap that was our lives, and a dog, even a puppy, was more than we both needed right then. Anyway, we already had a cat, and he was an all purpose outside hunter killer, and as far as I was concerned, one pet was enough.

I had asked my wife to accompany me to the Braves game that next day, but she refused. Two heavily involved high school athletes in our oldest two kept her daily schedule full, add in a seven year old daughter and you have a certified superwoman in the form of my bride, holding it all together. You also have someone not interested in sitting in the hot sun, thinking about what tomorrow held, while being distracted by the distraction that was a baseball game. That meant my number two guy was my building partner, Scott, and we were going to see the Braves! Our absence for a few hours could be excused away with the fact that I had won tickets to the big time baseball game in downtown Atlanta, so everything else could wait. We made our way down crowded Peachtree street, it still early out and unusually cool for that time of the year. It was sunshiny and hot in the forecast later that beautiful day, both our schedules were cleared off for the event, and we were glad to have a distraction, something we'd both get to talk about over the years to come.

I had picked up my tickets and my movie, and was headed down Peachtree Street when the call came.

"Hey Son" my Dad said as I answered the phone, "It appears that a small plane has hit the World Trade Center 1 building in New York City. That has got to be a mistake. But I'm looking at the building billowing black smoke on TV right now, where are you?" I was at Peachtree and North Avenue headed south, so Scott and I agreed to hang a right and down one block, park, then run inside the Varsity, home of a 100 TV sets. When we entered, all the employees were crowded into the TV rooms along with the early patrons. We all sat in the giant drive in Hot Dog stand, biggest in the world and the loudest, and you could hear a pin drop. We all stood together, watching, listening to the morning show hosts, all speculating on what might have happened. The word "terrorists" was mentioned a few times at first. Then again, then again, then it happened.

The second plane slammed into the second World Trade Center building and the once quiet room erupted into gasps and shouts of disbelief. people began to cry and shriek. I heard "Oh no....oh no...oh no..." more times then than I have ever heard in my life. Everything was moving in slow motion.Then we heard that planes had been hijacked and were headed to all major cities, Atlanta included. I recall the throngs of people pouring out of the buildings in my hometown, folks running and how courteous drivers were, helping each other out to blend in and and get out of town. I got home and told my wife what was going on, we ran to the school to get our two older kids out so we could all be together and sort this whole thing out as a family, cause that's what families do. We all sat together when the first building fell, and I'm sure we all cried together seeing the devastation. When the second building came down and we had learned that the Pentagon had also been hit, we prayed together as a family like we had never prayed before. This was real.

 Those buildings fell a few thousand times over the next week.Every bit of commerce had halted. I made my kids walk outside and look up, telling them they might not ever see the sky, plane-less and silent, again in their lifetimes. We were, after all, twenty minutes from the worlds busiest airport, Hartsfield-Jackson. I saw flags and patriotism like I had never seen before in my life. The Stars and Stripes flew in front of every home. Churches were full. People were on the same wavelength, no agenda's, helping one another. I saw every member of congress stand on the steps of the capitol building and sing "God Bless America". Our great President, George Bush, was the man for the times.  Rudy Guiliani, the Mayor of New York, was the man for the times. We were gonna get the sons-a-bitches that did this.

Then there was the toll. The lives of thousands of Americans who kissed their loved ones for the last time on the morning of 9/11. Some parted happy and some did not. Human stories of families and the hope for the future erased. Talent, tremendous talent, was lost to a terrorist attack. Some took control of their lives and lept from the buildings, not allowing Al-Queda to control the last part of it, exiting on their own terms.  Families torn asunder. Lives decimated. Brave souls in countless fire departments, police forces, security guards, all ran towards while others ran away to safety. Regular human being became super human saviors to co-workers, escorting the wounded out to safety then running back up to help others escape the flames, not knowing that 800 million tons of debris was minutes from sealing their fates and altering history forever.

I think about all the husbands who never saw their wives again. Wives who never saw their husbands again. Brothers and Sisters who'd never see each other this side of heaven again. Children who'd never ride on the shoulders of their fathers, or be hugged by their mothers. No graduation parties, no birthday parties, incomplete wedding parties...no family portraits with everyone there, Picnics, vacations, all unrealized possibilities. In an instant, they were gone. And we were all changed.

I think about that day, September 11, 2001, as I look down on my big brother, frail looking as he battles infection, laying in ICU. He's got a fighting chance. He'll make it through this. I thank God he has a chance. And I think of those brave souls who didn't have a chance twelve years ago, and on that day they didn't know it. And I remember them. 

And I pray.