I
was at work in a family practice on 9th Street in Oshtemo, Michigan. The other
nurses and I were busy putting patients in their rooms and doing tasks for our
physicians. It was by all accounts a typical Tuesday morning, at least until
the portable radio at the nurses' station interrupted its program, and a
special news report told of an airplane that had crashed into the World Trade
Center in New York. One of the nurses turned the radio volume up and we paused
for a moment to listen, but the announcer had very little information, so we
went back to our duties.
When
the second plane hit the Trade Center we all knew it wasn't an accident. When
the flight numbers of the airplanes were announced, the resident Physician's
Assistant - Eric Kennedy - told us his friend was one of the pilots. My doctor,
Wayne Little, went to his computer and tried to bring up CNN, but the website
had crashed. We had nothing but that little portable radio and the information
brought to us by our incoming patients to keep us updated. The rest of the day
was a numb blur as the announcer on the radio continued to tell of the tragedy
that unfolded that September day. I remember bringing a patient into one of the
exam rooms, and as I took her blood pressure I asked her if she had heard about
what had happened. She said she knew nothing, so I filled her in on what I had
learned. After all these years I think about that woman, and how she will
always remember where she was when she found out about the attacks, getting her
blood pressure taken in a doctor's office.
It
was about 6PM before our day was finally done, and we all rushed home to watch
what happened on our televisions. Listening to the horror was nothing compared
to the sight of seeing those planes slamming into the towers, the people
jumping out of their smoking windows, then the towers collapsing and knowing
there were thousands dying or trapped, and those who were on the ground blocks
away running for their lives as walls of white dust and smoke rolled through
the streets. I sat in complete shock that entire night watching the images over
and over again, as my son and wife sat beside me, also rooted to the
television.
If
it were not for my employer Dr. Little I would have driven to New York to help.
His calm, rational logic, and his absolute kindness toward me kept me rooted to
my job. I cried for weeks and weeks, and even the anti-depressant he prescribed
me didn't put a dent in my grief. I kind of went a little crazy for awhile and
did things I'm not very proud of, but still I carried my shattered heart with
me wherever I went. I didn't know a single person who died that day, but it
felt as if they were all family members of mine. To this day I haven't gotten
over it, and a I don't think I ever will. Even now, whenever I watch a
documentary about September 11, my heart fills with broken anguish and I weep
uncontrollably.
In
two days our nation will observe the twelfth anniversary of the most horrific
event in all our lives. There will be tears, there will be quiet reflection,
there will be prayers and comforting embraces as we again become one body and
one soul in our grief.
This
anniversary, a group of disaffected Muslims will march through the streets of
Washington DC, protesting the unfair treatment they believe they have suffered
since 9/11. It was members of their own religion who committed this unspeakable
act of terror, and even as they complain, they plot and scheme to impose their
beliefs and laws upon the free world, even if it is by the sword. I am going
there to meet them, but I won't be alone. There will be tens of thousands of
motorcyclists converging on our nation's capital, and tens of thousands more civilians
who will come from all over the country to remind them what their own kind did
to us, and that we will not let them desecrate the memories of all who lost
their lives that September day. I will be there to film the day, and I will let
my readers and the world know just how powerful and wonderful and patriotic and
outraged and determined Americans are, and how we will not let the complaints
of a handful of haters sully the reverence and solemnity of the anniversary of
that tragic day twelve years ago.
Pray
for the safety and strength and courage of all who will face the Islamic protesters
this Wednesday, September 1,, 2013 in the shadows of our sacred monuments to
freedom and liberty. Pray for justice and pray for all that is good in our
beautiful United States of America.
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