Twelve years ago today, 9-11-01, I was driving my young son
and daughter to their fifth and third grade classes at their elementary school.
It would have been just after 8:00 Houston time. After I dropped them off I
headed home with my eleven month old in the car-seat beside me.
The radio announcers were talking about a report that an
airplane had accidentally hit the World Trade Center. There was a live reporter
on the ground reporting from the scene. He said an airplane; probably a small
prop plane had hit one of the towers. That’s when it happened. The second plane
crashed into the other tower as he stood by and watched. At first he couldn't speak, when he did find the words he wanted to say were laced with disbelief,
horror and tears. “This is not an accident. We are under attack.”
Panic set in. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn't call my husband;
he had boarded a flight earlier that morning. My dad’s face popped into my
mind. His shop was just around the corner from the kid’s school. He would know
what to do.
I pulled into the shop driveway and honked my horn. Daddy
came out of the office—the only one there at that time of morning. A concerned
look came over his face as he glanced at my panicked expression. I told him to
come listen to the radio in my car. When he heard the whole story he asked
where Dan, my husband was. I told him he was in the air. He told me to go home…he
would follow me.
I’d never seen that look on my father’s face. Something was
terribly wrong.
We rushed to my house, turned on the television and checked
on my mother who was safe at home. The news anchors told the horrific story:
American Airlines Flight 11: Left Boston's Logan Airport at
7:59 a.m. for Los Angeles. Hijackers flew the plane into the North Tower of the
World Trade Center at 8:46 a.m.
United Airlines Flight 175: Left Logan Airport at 8:14 for
Los Angeles Hijackers flew the plane into the South Tower of the World Trade
Center at 9:03 a.m. (This was the one I heard…as it happened…on the radio at
8:03 Houston time.)
American Airlines Flight 77: Left Washington Dulles
International Airport in Northern Virginia at 8:20 a.m. headed to Los Angeles.
The hijackers flew this plane into the Pentagon at 9:37 a.m.
United Airlines Flight 93: Left Newark International Airport
at 8:42 a.m. for San Francisco. The passengers banned together against the
hijackers and the plane crashed to the ground near Shanksville, Pennsylvania at
10:03 a.m.
As the report came in about the fourth plane crash all I could
think of was oh Dear God please make it stop. And it did…but then the buildings
started to fall. I prayed for those trapped in the buildings, for the rescue
teams, for our country. Heavenly Father help us all!
I needed to talk to my husband, but he hadn’t yet turned his
cell phone back on following his flight. I panicked wondering if he’d even made
it to his destination. My baby could sense my terror and whined all day long.
The FAA grounded all planes within the continental U.S. at 8:40 a.m. Houston
time. I called Dan’s phone number nonstop from the time he was supposed to have
landed. He didn’t answer.
He finally turned his phone back on when he was in the taxi.
He answered my call. My heart could start beating again. (From that day forward
he calls me from the runway without fail. I hadn’t realized why he’d done that
until just now.) I asked if he’d heard the news. He hadn’t so I told him. He
relayed the information to his boss who didn’t believe a word of it. Dan was
sick that he wasn’t there for me.
That’s pretty much all of my story. My dad stayed with me
all day. He knew how upset I was. He told me to go check the kids out of school
and I did. We didn’t know what else these terrorists had planned and we wanted
them with us. They played video games all afternoon, having no understanding of
the magnitude of what had happened.
My husband and his boss had to hitch a ride back home in another
man’s rental car. Dan, along with the rest of the world will forever remember that horrible day. Not only because
of the tragic circumstances but also because he would forever remember that America
was ruthlessly violated the day before his 40th birthday.
In closing I would like to say…Happy birthday Dan. Let’s not
have a repeat of your 40th!
