Posted on 09 September 2011.
On Sunday, we will recognize the ten year anniversary of the horrendous, cowardly, and unprovoked attacks on our nation on September 11, 2001. I will always remember this day as one of sadness and horror.
On that day, I like many others fled from my office building in the U.S. Capitol complex in Washington, DC. Overloaded switchboards, closed bridges, mass evacuations, and a nation unsure of the status of loved ones, all led to a surreal feeling of helplessness.
I was married at the time, and I managed to get across the bridges into Virginia before they closed. My wife was across town in Georgetown, and she didn’t make it out of Washington, DC before they closed the bridges. We tried to arrange a meeting place, but the cell phone lines were so jammed it was almost impossible to call one another.
Make no mistake about it; I was scared, more afraid than I can remember ever being at any other time in my life. Trust me when I tell you; that is really saying something.
I managed to get to Crystal City across the Key Bridge from Georgetown, and could see the smoke pouring from the Pentagon and rescue personnel massing to begin the long and arduous process of rescuing the wounded and recovering the dead.
I wasn’t able to proceed any further as that bridge was also closed so I found a place to park and waited until I could reach my wife trapped on the other side of the Potomac.
As I waited, I had my car doors open and turned the radio on to listen to incoming updates. Dozens of passerby had gathered around my vehicle to listen as well. At that time in my life, I was pretty religious and attended church regularly. Moved by the spirit, I asked those gathered if they would mind joining me in a prayer for those lost and those missing. I bowed my head and felt a hand on either side grasp mine. When I finished praying, another voice took over, then another, and another until almost an hour had passed with an unbroken circle of prayer. I remember it as if it were only yesterday.
When we had finally exhausted those who wanted to pray, we opened our eyes to find that hundreds of additional people walking by on the busy streets had also stopped to lend their thoughts and prayers to ours.
A short while later, my cell phone rang and my wife told me that she had managed to walk 15 miles to Chain Bridge and made it across. Shortly after that I was able to meet up with her and bring her home and bandage her blistered feet. Heels were not designed for 15 mile hikes.
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In the weeks and months that followed, me and my fellow suburbians would gather on the street corners at a major intersection in our neighborhood and play patriotic music, hold candlelight vigils, and wave the American flag. Liberals stood side by side with conservatives. Republicans held hands and wept with democrats. We even had hippies and independents and libertarians. Politics all fell aside, brought together by something greater – the title of American.
Over time, fewer people showed up on those Friday evenings – burdened by the daily grind of life, sick children, deadlines, school plays, etc. But for a brief moment, we stood together, united in our hurt, locked together by the vow that we would never forget those friends and loved ones we lost that day.
For me, it was especially poignant, as my daily reminder was driving past the charred and twisted wreckage of the Pentagon, visible from 395 as I drove to work. It was both heart wrenching and relieving as I saw them begin to put things back the way they had been before the attacks.
Eventually, life went on. But for a small piece of time, out of the rubble, came a small voice of patriotism, and that voice grew into a shout as each of us added our own small voice. It shames me sometimes to think back on that time, and to know that it took four airplanes filled with our brothers and sisters to tumble from the sky and rain death upon us to unite us as a nation.
As we commemorate this day, a decade later, I hope that once again my fellow Americans will join me on a local street corner to sing songs, hold candles, and wave our nation’s banner. I for one will never forget that day and those who died. I ask that you also please take a moment to remember them as well.
God bless you and God Bless America.
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