A Day That Will Live In Infamy

Rusty commented today that I hadn't been blogging lately.  My response to him was that I really haven't had anything to write about.  He suggested (after some "smart" comment about me not staying awake long enough to do so) that I write down my reflections about September 11, 2001.  I remember the day like it was yesterday.  I can't believe that it has been eight years since that terrible tragedy took place.  I know that I will never forget where I was when I heard the news.  It is ingrained in my memory just like what I was doing when Reagan was shot, Challenger exploded, and Columbia disappeared.  September 11th is our generation's Pearl Harbor or Kennedy assassination.  This is how my Tuesday unfolded eight years ago...

I was sitting at my computer in my office at Mae Smythe Elementary finishing up some paperwork before I was to begin my first therapy session of the day.  One of our teachers' aides passed by my office with a surprised look on her face.  She told me that a plane had just flown into one of the World Trade Center towers.  At that time, they were not talking about a terrorist attack.  They believed it to be a grave mistake on the part of the pilot or significant mechanical malfunction.  I shook my head in disbelief, said a brief prayer for the victims, their families, and those employees working in the tower, and commenced with therapy for the day.  Two sessions into my therapy regimen, Melanie showed up at my door again this time with fear and uncertainty in her eyes.  She told me that another plane had flown into the other tower.  The incidents no longer appeared to be accidents but deliberate terrorist attacks.  We huddled around a small TV in my assistant principal's office, shaking our heads in disbelief with tears streaming down our faces.  Who could be responsible for such a despicable act?  Who held life in so little regard that they would sacrifice innocent human life to support their own agenda? 

We watched in horror as people, so stricken with fear and desperation decided that it would be better to plunge to their deaths than to be burned alive in the buildings.  It is an image that I wish I could erase from my mind but one that was played over and over on TV screens for days to come.  I became desperate to connect with my own family, to know that they were okay.  Austin was almost five months old at the time and spent most of his Tuesdays with his Aunt Kiki.  I called her first because Rusty was asleep.  We chatted in disbelief for a few minutes and she reassured me that they were fine.  A few more telephone calls were made after that.  I was chomping at the bit to call Rusty but knew that he needed sleep.  Finally around 10:30, I could wait no longer.  I told him that he needed to turn on the TV, that he was not going to believe what was happening.  He had already spoken to Courtney moments earlier so I did not catch him completely by surprise.  He told me that Court was planning to bring Austin to the house so that they could spend the rest of the day there.  I think that everyone needed the company of those they love to make it through that terrible day.

I returned to my AP's office right about the time that the first tower fell.  We all let out a brief shout because I don't think that any of us ever anticipated that the entire tower would collapse.  I don't know if I have ever felt more helpless.  I knew in my heart that thousands of people had just lost their lives and my heart broke for them and their families.  As the wife of a police officer, I also lamented the deaths of all of the "heroes" (NYPD, FDNY, and Port Authority officers) that had rushed to the sight to rescue those trapped in the buildings only to have their lives cut short in the line of duty.  At that point, the phones in the office started ringing off of the hook.  Paranoia was setting in and parents were desperate to have their children in their care (which I did not blame them for wanting one bit).  Therapy was done for the day.  We went into crisis mode.  Within a matter of minutes, our parking lot was flooded with cars and we had a line of parents down the sidewalk to the main entrance of our building.  I spent the remainder of the day answering phones, checking parents' IDs, and retrieving children from their classrooms.  Somewhere in the process we learned that the second tower had collapsed, the Pentagon had been hit, and a fourth plane had gone down in a field in Pennsylvania missing its intended target.  Rumors started flying about bombs being placed outside of all of the public schools in Manhatten and that the Houston Ship Channel was an intended target.  At times it all seemed too surreal to process.  By the end of the day, we barely had any children to dismiss at 3:00.  We joked (it was the only thing that we could find to laugh about) that there was surely prayer in school that day because every time the phone rang in a classroom, the students were all praying that it was their turn to get to go home.

I quickly made my way home to spend the evening surrounded by my two best friends and my precious baby boy.  We were glued to the TV set as the media replayed repeatedly the events from that horrific day.  I remember crying as I watched my adorable son bouncing happily in his jumper, thinking about all of the children whose parents would not be returning home that evening.  In an instant my tears of sorrow would transform into tears of rage as I wondered who gave these men the right to shatter the lives of so many.  At that moment I knew that I would never be able to forgive them for what they did and I marveled at God's ability to forgive.  His grace truly surpasses my understanding.

Wearily we made it through the evening.  Rusty and I crawled into bed, thankful for a reprieve from the gruesome images which played over and over in our minds.  Just as we were about to turn off the light, the phone rang.  Now everyone knows that nothing good ever comes from getting a phone call at such a late hour.  It was Rusty's dad informing us that our sister-in-law, Cindy's brother, Max was on board the plane which crashed into the second World Trade Center tower.  This information was almost more than I could bear.  Now it was personal.  A name and a face could be associated with this tragedy.  As we turned out the lights, I looked at Rusty and said, "I'm almost afraid to close my eyes because I'm frightened of what tomorrow will bring."

Tomorrow brought with it more pain and sorrow but it also ushered in a new sense of strength and pride that this country had been lacking for quite some time.  Individual differences no longer mattered.  We were one nation standing tall against the "monster" of terrorism.  Our spirit was not going to be shattered as they had hoped.  Instead, we banned together as a nation, supported relief and rescue efforts, and spat in the faces of our attackers.  We were all AMERICANS and that meant more to us than it had in a very long time.

We have made two trips to New York City since 09/11/01 and have visited Ground Zero both times.  As "family members" of someone who died in the attacks that day, we have access to areas which the general public cannot visit.  These areas have been set up as memorials to those who lost their lives that day.  Family members place photos, letters, and mementos to remember their fallen loved ones.  It was almost more than I could bear to walk around those rooms reading the heartfelt words of those who had experienced such tragedy.  I cried the entire time that I was there on both occasions.  I have told Rusty that I will not go back again until the actual memorial for 9/11 in complete.  I am too sensitive to other's pain and grief.  I am not capable to checking my emotions at the door.  The whole experience is too painful.  I am grateful that I was able to see it all but I will not put myself through that again.

This day last year was overshadowed by our frantic preparations for Hurricane Ike (perhaps I will blog about that experience tomorrow :).  Although this reflection has been difficult to recount, I am grateful for my husband's suggestion.  I pray that this day never passes and I don't remember the events of that Tuesday morning.  I am so proud that the greatest tragedy that our nation has ever experienced in my lifetime also became our grandest triumph!  God Bless America!

Mini-Me

The old saying goes something to the effect that at some point in time in our lives we will begin to act like our parents in spite of ourselves.  In my daughter's case, it is happening a little earlier than expected.  At times it is almost like looking in the mirror, which can be quite frightening.  The similarities are not all physical.  Sure, she resembles me more so than she does Rusty but I am referring more to mannerisms and attitudes.  First of all, have you seen the poor child run?!  She will never go out for sports galloping along like a gazelle.  I sure hope that she takes to dance because she will be laughed right off of a softball field. 

Also, how can she possibly have developed the same nervous habit that I had at her age but have not exhibited in her presence, period?  I used to pull on/bite my lips constantly until I became old enough to wear lipstick, which is why you rarely see me without it.  I slip back into my old habit very easily, especially when I am stressed.  Addy does the same thing when she is uncomfortable with a situation.  Very strange!

She has also developed the practice of saying, "Sorry," for everything (even when her brother does something wrong, which he thinks is hilarious).  Well, I was once told that I was "the sorriest person that someone ever knew (meaning that I said, "I'm sorry," in a variety of situations, not just when apologizing)."  I guess that one she learned by example.  She also hates to be corrected because she knows that she has disappointed that person in some way.  Whenever she is disciplined that head goes down, bottom lip comes out, and the waterworks begin.  She cannot be consoled until you hug her and tell her that everything is going to be okay.  I secretly feel this way even today.

Then there are the slight OCD behaviors that she exhibits (I can't for the life of me figure out how those came into being).  Ever since she could walk, she has enjoyed lining things up along counter tops with perfect spacing in between.  The other day she had a meltdown because the piece of toilet paper that she had torn off had a rip at one end.  She refused to use it stating, "It's broken, Mommy, it's broken."  Images of little pieces of notebook paper cut out and glued over mistakes on my homework papers popped into my mind.  When it snowed back in December, all Addy could say when we went outside to play was, "It mess, Mommy, it dirty."  Poor thing, she doesn't stand a chance.

It is hard to see yourself manifested through the actions of your child.  I just pray that she acquires some of my positive traits and not just the negative ones.  Nothing like a little pressure to make you strive to be a better Mommy.

"I Want No Friends"

Resistance to change is a trait which runs strong through both the Sumner and Smith sides of the family, so our children didn't have a prayer of being spontaneous in life at all.  This characteristic is especially evident in our youngest child, Addy.  New situations evoke anxiety in her, usually manifested via looking down and hiding her face with her hand (i.e., "If I can't see you, you can't see me).  Luckily, once she becomes acclimated to a setting, the anxiety subsides and "normal" behavior emerges.  That is, until you change the situation again.  Rewind to last Sunday, which was Promotion Sunday at our church.  I had tried to prepare her for the change as best as I could, but to no avail.  She walked confidently into the preschool wing of our church as is typical on Sunday morning and strutted down the hallway until we came to a stop in front of her new classroom, which is down the hall from her previous one.  As I started signing her in, Addy grabbed my hand and started pulling me in the direction of her old room.  I tried to distract her by saying, "Look, all of your friends are in this room," to which Addy replied, "I want no friends.  I want my class!"  Luckily, one of her teachers from last year was in the room.  She held out her arms and Addy quickly wrapped her arms around her neck and clung for dear life.  I assume that after I headed off to the service that she rallied as I never received the dreaded "page."  By the time that I picked her up, she was as happy as a lark.  I guess that she decided that she does need friends after all, however  I am not looking forward to the Sunday when she realizes that her best buddy, Haley is no longer in her class.

"A Little Too Close To Home"

It is at the encouragement of my dear husband that I am even writing this blog.  I guess that it is only appropriate that I, as "an officer's wife" write my first blog about something that impacted me in that role today.  This morning began like any other...get up, brush teeth, wash face, put on make-up, get dressed, fix hair, eat breakfast, out the door.  I was driving my normal route to work, enjoying a relatively traffic-free commute.  I had just started moving over into the right-hand lane to exit onto Beltway 8 when I looked over and saw Grace Community Church.  Normally the parking lot is devoid of cars at this time of the morning but not today.  Now, I am not one to watch the news (much to my "news-junkie" family's chagrin).  I gave it up when Rusty entered the academy.  I simply did not want to be reminded of all of the "danger" that my husband (and younger sister) would be facing while protecting and serving.  I can honestly say that I am the better for it.  Rusty informs me of the major events that happen and I save myself a lot of needless worry over things that I cannot control.  All that to say, I did not know what was to take place at the church today but all I had to do was look at the multiple rows of Pasadena police vehicles to know that the funeral for the officer who was slain last week was soon to take place.  The sight was almost more than I could bear.  God has always given me a divine sense of peace regarding the perils of Rusty's job but there are occasions, such as this morning when the danger becomes all too real for me.  I began to cry, not just a couple of tears but uncontrolled sobs as I thought about his poor widow and their two precious daughters who had just lost the most important person in their lives.  In a rare instance, I thought about how easily I could be in his wife's shoes never being able to feel the warmth of her husband's embrace or hear him whisper, "I love you."  I quickly dismissed those thoughts as they are too painful to bear, and I said a prayer asking God to guide them through this day and all of the difficult ones to come.   I regained my composure so that my new faculty members would not think that I had completely lost my mind and went through the motions of the remainder of my day.

I am very proud of Rusty and the role that he plays in keeping the community of Houston safe for its residents.  I know that he is a gifted officer and a true asset to the force.  I also know that I would be lost if anything ever happened to him.  Today only made that fact all the more clear.  I love him and have to trust God to watch over him when he leaves our home every evening.  I think that it would be appropriate to close with the prayer that Austin and I say for him on the nights that we pray together..."Lord, please watch over Daddy as he goes to work.  Keep him safe and bring him home to us in the morning.  Amen."