I am remembering 9/12

I was struck today by the frenzy of 9/11 activity.  I am definitely one who ALWAYS, ALWAYS takes pause, writes a few words and always talks with Valerie about "Do you remember what happened on September 11?"  She was 4.  We lived in Charlottesville, less than 2 hours from the Pentagon.  The day was terrifying.  I will never, EVER EVER forget how desperate I was to get to her that day.  How relieved I felt, even still scared about what was happening, that my baby girl was in my arms or on my lap.  I had dropped her off an hour before the terror of the day began.   I was at the gym starting my day there before I went into my lab.  I stood in the aerobic room on the eliptical for an hour after the second tower was hit.  When the pentagon was hit, and craziness ensued with news report that planes were headed for DC, I promptly left and raced to get my daughter from pre-school.  When I arrived, 2 other mothers were there, and we, plus my friend, Emily stood in a circle hugging, crying and praying.  All so scared, but so glad our children were safe.

 The date, ever since, has gotten a lot of press, a lot of thoughts, a lot of remembering, but this year, I feel a violent ownership over 9/11 by people in a surprising fasion.  For me, "we" were defined more on 9/12.  As my brother resides in a vinyl "room" that is a partition in a tent, I realize more than ever, the affect that Islamic Extremists had on my country, my life, and my family.  However.  I was more defined by 9/12 than 9/11.

After getting up the morning of 9/12, classes were canceled at UVa, so I did what I thought was best.  That is, I went to the mall where the blood drive for the Red Cross was taking place and I sat there for 7 hours in line to give blood.  I, and all the ladies (and the one gentleman) who had waited in line with me that day all went down, one-by-one in faint as we were exhausted from our day.  Exhausted mentally, physically, emotionally.  It was rough.

The next day, my friend Jennifer and I handed out candles to everyone we met and encouraged them to burn them at 9:11 pm that night.  The truth that was a pure beauty existed that night as we stood outside, shoulder to shoulder with neighbors on either side, in silent reverence, our candles a light of hope.

Friday, I remember sitting at "the light" on 29 and needing to make a left turn.  Normally, as soon as the light turned green, on-coming traffic would rush forward in selfish persuit of the road.  Not after 9/11.  After 9/11, oncoming traffic waved me and my left turn forward first.  Then I did the same to the person making a left in front of me.  I stopped for every pedestrian, I helped every mother I saw with a child, I was helped in turn.  I went to Michaels and bought red, white and blue ribbon and made huge bows for my car, my ex's car, my friends' cars.  We showed our patriotism.

Saturday morning, Valerie, Jennifer and I drove to DC.  We wandered the national mall and took pictures of the dozen men with machine guns on the roof of the white house.  I took pictures of the red lights coming from the top of the Washington Monument.  I remember saying "It looks mad!"  It did.  We then got onto the Metro and stopped at the Pentagon mall hoping to get our bearings and see the pentagon somehow.  We got to the mall and thought the parking garage would give us height to at least see  where we were in DC.  We walked up to the top of the parking garage and directly in front of us was the black, scarred side of the pentagon violated by an airplane filled with innocent Americans being piloted by terrorists.  Two things occured to me... holy COW, that plane was flying low- the pentagon is huge, but short in stature.  Also, how lucky we were to follow our intuition to be in that place at that time.  As we stood looking over the pentagon, I noticed solidified candle wax on the wall.  Red, White and Blue.

I am always struck, when I read or hear How the Grinch Stole Christmas at how similar the US reacted after 9/11.

Ten thousand feet up, up the side of Mount Crumpet,
He rode with his load to the tip-top to dump it!
"Pooh-pooh to the Who's!" he was Grinchily humming.
"They're finding out now that no Christmas is coming!"

"They're just waking up!
I know just what they'll do!
Their mouths will hang open a minute or two...
Then the Who's down in Whoville will all cry boo hoo!"

"That's a noise," grinned the Grinch, "that I simply MUST hear!"
He paused, and the Grinch put a hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in low...then it started to grow!

But this sound...this sound wasn't bad!
Why...this sound sounded glad!
Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small,
Were singing...without any presents at all!

He hadn't stopped Christmas from coming!  It came!
Somehow or other, it came, just the same!
And the Grinch, with his Grinch feet ice-cold in the snow
Stood puzzling and puzzling.  "How could it be so?"

"It came without ribbons!  It came without tags!
It came without packages, boxes, or bags!"
He puzzled and puzzed...till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before!

"Maybe, Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store.
Maybe Christmas--perhaps--means a little bit more!"
And what happened then?  Well, in Whoville they say
That the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day!



There was terrible sadness and fear, but there was also deep, abiding love for my family, my friends, my countrymen.  That for me, was defined on September 12.