Where Were You 8 Years Ago Today?

I was in San Diego, California.
Chris was stationed at Naval Air Station, North Island (Now Naval Base Coronado)
Work started for him at 6 in the morning, so with the rush hour commute he usually left our home around 5.
On his way to work he listened to the greatest radio dj's in existence. Jeff and Jer.
They were doing their normal morning routine when all of a sudden they announced "we're getting reports of a small plane crashing into the World Trade Center"

Chris listened....but assumed it was an accident. Still he was interested. He got to work and gave me a call. He knows I'm a news junkie and that Gracie would be waking up soon so he wanted me to know about the developing story out of New York City.

As I was on the phone with him I turned on the tv to the news. Within minutes the second plane hit.

All I could say was "Oh my God.....Oh my God!"

Chris realizing quicker than I had that this was no accident and he was on an air base in the military said he had to go....his final words to me in that conversation was "this is going to be bad"
I hung up the phone and quickly dialed my Mom in Oregon. She turned on the news, then hung up so she could call and tell my Grandmother the news.

I sat there, on my living room floor watching the events unfold.

I talked to Chris shortly after the first tower fell. I was talking to him when the second one came down.

I couldn't believe it. I honestly couldn't believe what I was seeing on the tv screen.


The base was being shut down. Only essential personal were allowed to stay. The downfall to my husband being a computer guru...he was essential personal. We had no idea when he would be allowed to leave the base. One thing was for sure, Gracie and I were alone in our house in San Diego...without a car.

Call after call came in from concerned friends and family. My Aunt in Salt Lake City was getting ready to drive to San Diego and pick Gracie and I up. My Grandmother was on the phone trying to get me a train ticket or rental car so I could go "Home" to Oregon where it was safe. A good friend who lived in Long Beach desperately wanted to come down and get Gracie and I.

By this time the Pentagon and Shanksville, PA had happened. More planes were still in the air. I know, I lived under the flight patterns in San Diego.

I watched out my window as planes were diverted to Mexico. I watched fighter jets "escort" incoming passenger planes. I listened as the constant hum of the air traffic became an infrequent interruption...startling me every time until finally the only sound was the occasional military jet or helicopter.

Chris told me from his perspective, he watched as military planes were being sent up so quickly they did it two at a time, one right after the last. He watched as the blips on the radar screens in the tower slowly started to disappear until finally there was nothing in the air.

Later that evening I walked outside my home. I needed air, I needed to get out. I felt trapped and just needed to walk away from the scenes on the tv for a moment.

Something strange happened. Many of my neighbors had apparently had the same idea. There was a decent handful of people just standing out there. People from every walk of life. Military families, waring gang members, college students, quick mart employees. Black, White, Mexican, Indian. It was indeed an American quilt.

People I never spoke to before that day. People I more than likely, never even looked in the eye before that day.
There we were, outside just staring. Each and every one of us was effected. We must have looked like a group of zombies wandering the street.
We looked at each other. Introduced ourselves, Shook each others hands. Hugged. Cried together.

I watched something truly amazing. There with our group were two neighbors. They came from rival gangs and I normally avoided them. They I would assume, avoided each other as well.
As one walked toward our little party, the other walked toward him, held out his hand and said "not today brother, not today" The first one took his hand, and they hugged.

I learned something in that moment. Something so profound that hasn't left me since. We are all Americans. We may disagree, or live vastly different lives but ultimately we are of the same family.

Unfortunately most Americans have forgotten the lesson. For a few months following the events of 9/11 we were one big family. I don't know when we collectively forgot that truth.

I just hope we can collectively remember before another 9/11 reminds us.

God Bless the USA and God Bless the men and women of American Airlines Flight, 11, United Airlines Flight 75, American Airlines Flight 77 and the heroes of United Flight 93.

The Firefighters, EMT's and Police, the office workers and the military who gave their lives that day.
I will never forget September 11, 2001.