Friday, September 11, 2009


Today has been very busy and I haven't had time to post much at all.  This post will be cross-posted on all blogs, but I feel it is important enough to be posted like that.

Eight years ago, our nation changed.  A horrific series of attacks changed the very core of who we are.  The sound of an airplane overhead has a whole different meaning.  Each anniversary, I am saddened at the memory.  It is so fresh - if hardly feels like eight years have passed.  

A few years before, I lived just miles from the Pennsylvania field as I was a camp cook and counselor.  I haven't gone back.  I don't think I can.  Just three years after the attack, we awoke to find a small plane had crash landed across the street from our home in Tennessee. 

Where were you on that fateful day?  I would love to hear your story.  Here's mine.

Hubby and I had just moved to Tennessee.  I had my first full-time teaching job in a middle school.  The day of the attack, I was welcoming my 8th grade choir.  They told me that we were under attack.  I thought they were pulling a prank on me.  What they said just sounded so unbelievable.  I was having a rocky year with this group and wouldn't be surprised by a prank, so we sang.  Class as usual.  Part way through class, the principal made an announcement and I turned on the tv to hear the news.  I honestly don't remember much after that.  I don't remember if we had an early dismissal.  I don't remember teaching any other classes.  I do remember going into my friend, Becky's, classroom to watch the news.  I remember an announcement asking us to turn off the tv's to help the kids cope better - I don't think anyone listened, we were all too frightened.  I know a lot of kids went home.  I remember watching the news all night, shaking.  For months after, news reports and rumors kept coming explaining how if there a nuclear attack, we would be high up on the list of probable targets due to our proximity to Oak Ridge labs.

I remember the panic.  I remember emergency kits being prepared for homes - grocery stores selling out of water and canned goods.  I remember the brave volunteers who traveled to New York and Pennsylvania to help.  I remember feeling panic each time the Air National Guard helecopters flew over en route to base.

I remember the flags hanging at every house.  I remember how America bonded and became stronger through the pain.  America has changed, but not all for the worse.  Remembering is painful, but we must Never Forget.


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