I cannot thank everyone enough for sharing your "Where were you?" stories about September 11, 2001 on my Facebook page. It is so powerful to see that tragic day and how it unfolded from so many perspectives, and it galvanizes, for me, the resolve to truly never forget.
For me, that's not a slogan or a hashtag. The story of every person who died, was injured, became ill due to the toxicity of the damage in Manhattan and at the Pentagon, need to be just as alive and impactful in 5 years, 25 years, 100 years, if we are to continue as the United States of America that we need to be.
I promised my story. It's nothing special. But, looking back, it provides some interesting insight, and a reminder that, sometimes in life, God warns us of something, whether we're ready to understand it or not. In this case, it would be impossible to even conceptualize what that Tuesday morning would become.
My story starts the previous Saturday. On September 8th, we took Robbie and Rachel to an air show at the Louisa County Airport. Robbie wanted to take a flight in a small prop plane, and, of course, Nana (my Mama) paid the fee, and I got to go along for the ride.
I'd never been in a small plane before, and Robbie had the "gag bag" in the front passenger seat, but didn't need to use it. I've only flown a handful of times in my life, and only twice since the 9/11 attacks, in 2008 and 2013. It was a neat experience.
The next morning, I'm teaching Sunday School at Bethlehem Congregational Church in Prince George County, where I pastored for nine years (1996-2005). The title of the lesson that week, in a book that contained 13 weeks' worth of lessons decided upon months (if not longer) in advance, was:
"When Fear Comes Calling".
Lesson taught, sermon preached, go home to follow fantasy football. Typical September Sunday. It was followed by a typical crazy Monday at work.
*****
Tuesday morning, I run the paper route, come home, get ready for work, take Robbie to fourth grade at Longdale Elementary, and, on this morning, take four year old Rachel to the office with me as her Mom had a staff meeting at the credit union. I had a new employee starting in the production department, so the day promised to be busy with tours, introductions, instructions, what if's, and the like.
That changed shortly before 9am when, while walking down the hallway through the sales department of Q94, the manager at the time, Meg Byrd (now Hill), said something about an airplane and the World Trade Center. We walked down the hall and landed at the conference room, where a sales meeting was supposed to be taking place. Looking in the window, we saw the television on, and the fire from the first impact.
I didn't see the second plane hit live, as I continued on with the appointed duties. When I heard about it, I raced back to my office, and turned on a radio. Just after 9:40, the legendary copywriter, the late Carol Deane, burst into the office I shared with three others in four cubicles and said, "They've hit the Pentagon!"
Seconds later, I heard Bryant Gumbel on CBS say, "Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness." At the time, you could listen to the audio of television channel 6 on 87.7 FM. Twenty minutes later, I heard the late Harold Dow try to explain to Dan Rather that an entire tower had collapsed. It was all surreal.
I'm listening, stunned, trying to focus on work. Training quickly went by the wayside, and, remember, all this time I'm taking care of my little girl. Moments later, the phone rang. It was Bonnie, asking me what in the world was going on, as she had no knowledge of the attacks until she turned on the radio in her car coming back across town from that meeting.
She raced to Longdale to get Robbie (schools really didn't want parents pulling kids out, but she thought, we're too close to D.C.. I totally agreed.), then came to Clear Channel to pick up Rachel and I for a quick trip home to grab a battery-powered television to take to the office so I and the three ladies I shared an office with could stay on top of the news.
One of my co-workers grew up near Shanksville, Pennsylvania, and was extremely upset when news of United 93 began to come in. I spent the rest of the day consoling, talking to people, seeing the start of an avalanche of commercial cancellations to handle, all the while processing the day in my brain and checking on my new employee.
The processing was important because, that evening, I began three nights of revival services at a dear friend's church in Prince George not far from Bethlehem. Obviously, any plans for the sermon on the first night were thrown out.
And I returned to "When Fear Comes Calling".
Some nights, I would go down alone to preach in special services like this. That evening, all four of us were in the van. And, to close the day, I'll never forget that, on the way home on Interstate 295, we passed, on the side of the road, a complete convoy of Army vehicles of several kinds.
Add that visual to the eerie silence in the air with no aircraft activity, and I ended 9/11 having to remind myself of what to do when, indeed, fear comes calling.
I was asked to lead a memorial service at work in the wake of September 11th, which was one of the most humbling experiences of my life. I struggled mightily for words with which to offer hope, healing, consolation, and many other things.
*****
Now, twenty years later, I also remember what I told my congregation later in 2001, during the time where it seemed like every business marquee in America said, "God Bless America" or "Never Forget", and unity in America was actually a thing.
I said to them, don't get used to this. This united front won't last.
I never dreamed to the extent that we would falter.
My most fervent prayer, going forward, is that we don't have to face another day like September 11, 2001, for us, as a nation, and simply as humans, to be shaken again to our core and remind us what is important, what truly matters.
Love your family. Love your friends. Love your enemies. Turn enemies into friends. And, the next time we face the inevitable fear that comes calling, we will be grounded by togetherness, by faith, and by the strength found in every story from 9/11, those stories I will fight to keep alive as long as I am honored to be on this Earth.
