Just an Ordinary Day

It was an ordinary day where I lived in the United States.  I woke up, got ready for work, arrived at work.  I signed onto my computer and worked on a project.

It was ordinary, until it wasn't.

September 11, 2001.

Today should be an ordinary day.

My spouse and I will get up.  Have breakfast.  My spouse has an appointment today.  It's just another day.

Today is the 24th anniversary of a day when some 3,000 people died in several terrorist attacks. 

We've reached the point where September 11 is only the day on the calendar between September 10 and September 12.   When someone makes an appointment for September 11, or mentions something they are doing on September 11, our mind doesn't catch on the date for a moment. That isn't a bad thing, but people of my generation will remember 9/11 for the rest of our lives.

But about one third of the people living in the United States weren't alive, or were too young to understand what was happening. That includes many teachers.

 How do we teach the importance of 9/11 to that generation?  How do we give them context?  How do we make them care?  Their 9/11 was the COVID epidemic.  Something that happened 24 years ago has become ancient history.

But not for my generation. 

I remember that evening, too, sitting with my preteen son in front of a computer and reading headlines from newspapers all over the world.  It was front page news everywhere, our American tragedy.  Now, newspapers die everyday and we are connected by social media, something we could not have imagined on September 11, 2001.

My son, who is in his 30's, remembers, too.

For our grandchildren, perhaps they will ignore a plaque in the lobby of their high school honoring the alumni who died that day.  This is the plaque in the lobby of my high school with 11 names of alumni who died that day.   But, more likely, they will have their own way of remembering, perhaps the way we who were not alive for Pearl Harbor (December 7, 1941) still remember and honor that day.

One of the names on that plaque in my high school is Christian Regenhard.  He was the youngest New York City fire fighter to die on 9/11. He was one of those who ran to danger, making it possible for others to escape and live another day.

Of the 11 people who went to my high school that died that day, two of them left pregnant spouses.  This is the story of one of the children later born, one of the so-called Children of 9/11.

Yes, we who remember, remember September 11, 2001 in different ways. 

My late childhood best friend remembered going to lunchtime concerts on the grounds of the World Trade Center during the summer.  Her husband worked in the area.  On that fateful day, her husband witnessed one of the towers fall but he made it out of Manhattan, covered in so much dust that my friend didn't recognize him when he showed up on their doorstep that afternoon.  

I visited Ground Zero in August of 2002 with my spouse and son.  It is a visit I will never forget.

My father in law was born on a September 11 (although he was no longer with us on that day.)  

So, today is just an ordinary day.  But still, at 8:46 am, I will remember. 

 I hope future generations, in some way, will remember, and apply that learning in their lives, too. 

Monuments of September 11 #WordlessWednesday

I have written a lot of 9/11 posts.  I know people who were personally affected (a man who lost his son and a man who lost his best friend) and had some indirect connections to others who died that sad, sad day.  

This year I'm keeping the post simple, in keeping with the Wordless Wednesday meme.

May those who perished, including those who died years later (and are still dying even today), forever rest in peace.  May their loved ones find healing. 

May we never forget. 

Taken September 11, 2016, at a cemetery in Putnam Valley, New York (Putnam County).  

The actual monument at the cemetery. Some 126 resident lives were lost, between Putnam County and its neighbor Westchester County.

One more monument, in Naples, New York, taken the fourth week of September, 2022.

Joining Sandee at Comedy Plus for her #WordlessWednesday on this sad 23rd anniversary.

The 22nd Anniversary

My dear readers from countries other than the United States, please permit me to concentrate on my country today.  If you are looking for my Music Moves Me post, please click here.

Today marks 22 years. 

These anniversaries will become fewer and fewer, because that is how life progresses.  This year, though, there will still be ceremonies.

I believe we've reached the point where September 11 is only the day on the calendar between September 10 and September 12.   When someone makes an appointment for September 11, or mentions something they are doing on September 11, our mind doesn't catch on the date for a moment. That isn't a bad thing, but people of my generation will remember 9/11 for the rest of our lives.

There are still thousands of people who were impacted by the events of those days.

I remember that evening, too, sitting with my preteen son in front of a computer and reading headlines from newspapers all over the world.  It was front page news everywhere, our American tragedy.  Now, newspapers die everyday and we are connected by social media, something we could not have imagined on September 11, 2001.

For our grandchildren, perhaps they will ignore a plaque in the lobby of their high school honoring the alumni who died that day.  This is the plaque in the lobby of my high school with 11 names of alumni who died that day.   But, more likely, they will have their own way of remembering, perhaps the way we who were not alive for Pearl Harbor (December 7, 1941) still remember and honor that day.

One of the names on that plaque in my high school is Christian Regenhard.  He was the youngest New York City fire fighter to die on 9/11. He was one of those who ran to danger, making it possible for others to escape and live another day.

Of the 11 people who went to my high school that died that day, two of them left pregnant spouses.

Yes, we who remember, remember September 11, 2001 in different ways.

My father in law was born on a September 11 (although he was no longer with us on that day.)  

On September 11, 2016, I visited his grave and took these pictures of a 9/11 memorial on the cemetery grounds.

Other people I know (family and friends in New York City, where I grew up) lost loved ones, friends, neighbors. 

There were the children in a nearby elementary school and a nearby high school to the World Trade Center in New York City.  The story of the students of Stuyvesant High School in Manhattan is especially poignant.

There were the Sarasota, Florida children who had been gathered with then President Bush to listen to a story time before he was called away.  They are also children of 9/11.

There is comedian Jon Stewart, still fighting for health care for 9/11 responders who are still dying from their exposures that day, and the following days.  We must never forget them.  Too many people in power seem to have forgotten these men and women.

Maybe you, my reader, don't remember because you weren't yet born, or were too young to remember, and have no personal connection like the children of 9/11.  After all, it's been 22 years.

But history doesn't forget.

And I won't, either, until the day my memory or my body fails.

September 11 Reaches Adulthood

If September 11, 2001 was a person, it would be 21 years old today.

It reached adulthood today.

I've followed September 11 for all those 21 years.

These anniversaries will become fewer and fewer, because that is how life progresses.  But today, we still pause to remember.  (Although, it seems that the channels on TV that used to carry the ceremonies are more focused on the British monarchy).

One day, September 11 will be only the day on the calendar between September 10 and September 12. 

For our grandchildren, perhaps they will ignore a plaque in the lobby of their high school honoring the alumni who died that day.  This is the plaque in the lobby of my high school.   But, more likely, they will have their own way of remembering, perhaps the way we who were not alive for Pearl Harbor (December 7, 1941) still remember and honor that day.

One of the names on that plaque in my high school is Christian Regenhard.  He was the youngest New York City fire fighter to die on 9/11. He was one of those who ran to danger, making it possible for others to escape and live another day.

We remember September 11, 2001 in different ways.

I remember September 11 every year.  It was my father in law's birthday (although he was no longer with us on that day.)  Then, it became the day I watched in horror (after my employer hastily located a television) as the second tower fell, later finding out that one of my co workers lost his son on that day. His daughter in law was pregnant.  Other people I know from family and friends in New York City lost loved ones, friends, neighbors.  11 people who went to my high school died that day.  Two of them left pregnant spouses. 

There are the children of those pregnant women, who will be reaching their 21st birthdays in the coming days and months. Over the years, People Magazine has followed them.  I wonder what today will be like for them.

There were the children in a nearby elementary school and a nearby high school to the World Trade Center in New York City.  The story of the students of Stuyvesant High School in Manhattan is especially poignant.

There were the Sarasota, Florida children who had been gathered with then President Bush to listen to a storytime before he was called away.  They are also children of 9/11.

There is comedian Jon Stewart, fighting for health care for 9/11 responders who are still dying from their exposures that day, and the following days.  We must never forget them.  Their statistics are staggering.  Too many people in power seem to have forgotten these men and women.

Maybe you, my reader, don't remember because you weren't yet born, or were too young to remember, and have no personal connection like the children of 9/11.  After all, it's been 21 years.

But history doesn't forget.

Tonight, the 9/11 lights will shine in Manhattan yet again, marking where the Twin Towers once stood, where my co-worker's son and a cousin in law's best friend once worked.

The National September 11 Memorial and Museum invites us to "Join us this anniversary in active remembrance from wherever you are: snap a photo of the sky above you and underscore the way it connects us all."

 

Yonkers, New York sunset, September 11, 2016.

 

Politik by Coldplay, written on September 11, 2001.

Zinnia, Monarch and My Dreams

 A moment of beauty from today.  I was out, and saw a monarch butterfly flying (I suspect they have started their migrations because I've seen a number of them in the past few days.

One alighted on a zinnia and let me take its picture.

According to symbolism, monarchs are symbols of rebirth and being on the right track on life.

I'm still a little under the spell of the 20th anniversary of 9/11, though, and I wanted to bring you some musical beauty.  I had such a strange dream last night, maybe from watching the coverage of the 9/11 commemoration in my native New York City.  

But I did want to share something else with you today before I go.  I saw this performance, as it happened, on television.

It bought me to tears.

Here is Bruce Springsteen yesterday at the 9/11 commemoration held at the World Trade Center site in New York City, singing "I'll See You In My Dreams".

More music tomorrow for #MusicMovesMe.

In Pace Requiescat

20 years ago today.  It's one of those anniversaries where we all pause to remember the day.

These anniversaries will become fewer and fewer, because that is how life progresses.  But today, we still pause to remember.

One day, September 11 will be only the day on the calendar between September 10 and September 12. Already, festivals are held on this day.  In fact, Binghamton, New York is holding one tonight (called LUMA).

For our grandchildren, perhaps they will ignore a plaque in the lobby of their high school honoring the alumni who died that day.  This is the plaque in the lobby of my high school. 

One of the names on that plaque in my high school is Christian Regenhard.  He was the youngest New York City fire fighter to die on 9/11. He was one of those who ran to danger, making it possible for others to escape and live another day.

We remember September 11, 2001 in different ways.  Did you know there was a restaurant in the North Tower of the World Trade Center? This tells their story.

I remember September 11 every year.  First, it was my father in law's birthday (although he was no longer with us on that day.)  Then, it became the day I watched in horror (after my employer hastily located a television) as the second tower fell, later finding out that one of my co workers lost his son on that day. His daughter in law was pregnant.  Other people I know from family and friends in New York City lost loved ones, friends, neighbors.  11 people who went to my high school died that day.  Two of them left pregnant spouses. 

There are the children of those pregnant women, who will be reaching their 20th birthdays in the coming days and months.  One of them, Gabi Jacobs Dick, was the son of someone else on that alumni plaque.   The trauma surrounding the day that took the lives of their fathers affected them, too.

Gabi called it "The Butterfly Effect".  The video I linked to in the last paragraph is about three minutes long, and I invite you to watch it.  Gabi has suffered from fears of airplanes, tall buildings and elevators, and this was one of his efforts to conquer those fears.

There were the children in a nearby elementary school and a nearby high school to the World Trade Center in New York City, or the Sarasota, Florida children who had been gathered with then President Bush to listen to a storytime before he was called away.  They are also children of 9/11.

Gabi Dick won't forget. Those other now grown children won't forget.  But maybe you, my reader, don't remember because you weren't yet born, or were too young to remember, and have no personal connection like the children of 9/11.  After all, it's been 20 years.  There is a way to teach that new generation, though.

As long as we give the day meaning, true meaning, and incorporate that meaning into our daily lives, those who come after us will remember the meaning of September 11 2001.  But they will turn that memory into something that matters to them, the generation that didn't witness it on TV or in person.  They only know a post 9/11 world. We of my generation can never truly know what that means, to know a world from before that date we observe today.

Our world isn't theirs.

They will remember, but not the way we do.  Our job is to make sure they know about the day and its meaning, and let them sort it out. Keep in mind that the children born on September 11, 2001, turned 18 on September 11, 2019, and were granted the right to vote.  More have joined them in the past two years.  They can vote.

I hope they will use that power of the vote well.

They are old enough to fight, and die, in service to our country.  Some did, not that long ago, in Afghanistan.

May the almost 3000 who died that day (and those who have since joined them in the hereafter from injuries and related diseases) forever rest in piece.  May their memories be a blessing. 

(Parts of this post were originally posted on other September 11ths). 

Some September 11 Skies #SkywatchFriday

It is hard to believe that September 11, 2001 was 19 years ago.   Each year on that date, our country relives its sadness.

Here is one of my September 11 posts if you care to read it.  If not, please stick around for my sky pictures taken on September 11 of recent years.

Yonkers, New York (a city that borders New York City to the North), September 11, 2016.

9-11 memorial at a cemetery in Westchester County, New York - one of many memorials in our country.

A fountain at the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, NY (Dutchess County) September 11, 2019. (Right now, the public is not permitted on the campus).

A year ago, September 11, 2019, my spouse and I were visiting historic sites in Dutchess County, New York, about 90 miles from New York City.  Franklin Roosevelt, our President during most of our Great Depression and World War II, lived in Hyde Park, New York.

This was his house.

Roosevelt, who had polio as an adult, lived in times where he could now show that he was disabled if he wanted to hold political office.  But, at home, he could drop a lot of pretense.  He designed some scenic overlooks for his viewing pleasure.

More scenery.

 

Speaking of scenery, here's a couple more pictures, taken on September 11, 2017 in Putnam County, New York, about 40 miles north of New York City.

Doesn't it look peaceful?

So unlike what happened in a different year, in a different place.

I promise never to forget those who died on that day, in the weeks and years following, and even more recently, heroic first responders from that time and survivors of 9/11 (at least 42) who passed this year from COVID-19.  May their memories be a blessing.

Joining Yogi and other skywatchers each Friday for #SkywatchFriday

 

Memories and Commemorations #MusicMovesMe

 Once again, it's Monday.  It's time for music, and it's time for Music Moves Me!

Who are the members of Music Moves Me ?  We are bloggers who blog about music each Monday. If you have music to share with us, you are most welcome to join!  Just remember our simple rule:  you must include at least one You Tube or Vimeo video or your post may be subject to removal or labeling "NO MUSIC". You are welcome to write about music. too but there must be at least one music video. 

It's the first Monday in September, and it's Labor Day, and guess who is our honorary co-hostess for the month of September?  None other than Cathy from Curious As a Cathy.

Today, she has picked the theme of "You Pick".  So anything goes, as long as it is related to music videos!

There are so many things to remember this week.  Labor Day.  September 11.  I don't quite know how to begin.  So much to pay tribute to.

At the end of this post there will be some pictures.  I hope you stick around for them.

I didn't know this, but Paul McCartney was sitting on a plane at a New York City airport and witnessed the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 in New York City, the Pentagon and a plane, Flight 93, which was taken down by its passengers before it could hit its target.   This is his recollection and his tribute:  "Freedom/Let It Be"

This song is written from the viewpoint of a young man whose father died from cancer several years before, but the song has become intertwined with remembering the 9/11 attacks.  Green Day and their 2005 "Wake Me Up When September Ends".

May those innocents who died that day, and the approximately 1,400 rescue workers who have perished from their work that day and the following weeks, be remembered always.

Heroes in the making, here is an article about children of firefighters who died on 9/11 or due to 9/11 illnesses, graduating from FDNY in 2019.

Today is also Labor Day here in the United States.  So let's blog some about working.

A classic from Sam Cooke:  Chain Gang, from 1960.  This song tells a story of a tragic time in our history, and the use of convict labor rented out to others.  Not all work is voluntary.

Working In a Coal Mine, covered by Devo in 1981.

And finally, a video that made me cry - maybe we all need a good cry this week.  This is a Japanese video telling the story of a woman (who is getting married) and how her mother taught her the piano as a child. After her mother dies, she sees her father (who doesn't know how to play) use the beloved piano as a shelf for knickknacks and junk.  In her grief, she walks out on her father - who then....(you'll have to watch the video.)

I promised you some photos.

Wall of Remembrance, MCU Park, Brooklyn, New York.  One of the firefighters this wall pays tribute to went to my high school.

More Wall of Remembrance.

9/11 Memorial in Westchester County, New York, taken September 11, 2019.

The 19th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks is Friday.  May we never forget.

Join me again next Monday, same time, same place.

An Anniversary and a Death

Today is the 75th anniversary of the atomic bombing of the city of Hiroshima, Japan, by the United States.

August 6, 1945 was a Monday morning.  At the time, Hiroshima had a population of about 300,000.    Here is one eyewitness account.  It is not easy reading.  Those who survived suffered unimaginable mental anguish for the rest of their lives (as did many of those who fought in World War II and all other wars.)

Survivors, most of whom are in their 80's and 90's, are still dying from effects of the bomb.

Years ago, I was able to see the Enola Gay, the airplane from which the bomb had dropped.  It's in a Smithsonian museum in Virginia (one well worth the visit).  Very, very sobering.  There is a memorial each year in Hiroshima, which has been rebuilt, but due to COVID-19, it had to be scaled way back.

It is also worthy to note that a number of the killed and survivors were Korean, forced by the Japanese to work in Hiroshima.

It's estimated that 2/3 of the population of Hiroshima died as a result of the bombing.

Soon, we will commemorate the 75th anniversary of V-J Day (the ending of World War II), with hopes that eventually our human race will find a way to permanent peace. 

More eyewitness accounts of the bombing.

And yesterday....

The world of journalism mourns another great:  Pete Hamill, dead at the age of 85.

Anyone who grew up in New York City during the 50's and 60's recognizes the name immediately.

He was the voice of New York, a journalist and novelist who spent part of his life at various New York City area papers - the New York Post, New York Newsday, and the New York Daily News.

One of my childhood memories is of my Dad, leaving for work five days a week.  Before climbing the steps of our elevated subway train station, he would stop at a "sweet shop" and get his New York Daily News.  He would read it on the subway ride from our apartment in the Bronx to his job in lower Manhattan, a commute which, many times, took more than an hour. 

On the way home, he would read the New York Post, which was an afternoon paper.

Then, he'd get home and give me the newspapers.  Back then, you got much of your news from the newspaper, and newspapers provided a lot of my early reading material.  Hamill became a reporter (he didn't want to be called a "journalist") for the Post in 1960 but eventually branched out into magazine article writing, and, later, became a novelist.

Pete worked for New York newspapers (including Newsday, a Long Island paper), New York magazines, and is said to have inspired Robert F. Kennedy to run for President.  Hamill was present when Kennedy was assassinated in 1968.  It is also said that Hamill's memoir inspired Frank McCourt to finish his best selling memoir, Angela's Ashes.

He witnessed the destruction of the World Trade Center on 9/11.

RIP, Pete Hamill.  You will be missed.

September 11, 2019 #WordlessWednesday

Eighteen years ago today, starting at 8:46 AM on a beautiful near-fall morning in New York City, Northern Virginia and rural Pennsylvania,our world changed forever.

I took these pictures last December at the Brooklyn Tribute Walk at Coney Island.  I walked this path with my spouse and a woman (my cousin) who lost her next door neighbor.  Her husband lost his best friend, who worked in the South Tower of the World Trade Center.  Many firemen and policemen live in her neighborhood.  Not all of them came home.

An inlaw worked at a suburban New York City newspaper, and remembers the almost empty roads as she drove home that night, passing commuter lots filled with cars that should not have been full.

Wall of Remembrance at Coney Island.

I remember that day.

Christian Regenhard went to my high school.  He was the youngest firefighter to die on 9/11.  He served on Ladder 131, Red Hook (Brooklyn).

Today, I will pause to remember them all, the first responders, a co worker's son who worked in the North Tower, the alumni of my high school who died, and all those who never came home.  And the children, including Gabriel Dick (born to an alumnus who died on 9/11) who never knew their mothers or fathers.

May the innocents who died that day rest in peace.
 
Joining Esha and Natasha for #Wordless Wednesday.

Will They Remember?

Tomorrow is September 11.

In the United States, that means an anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, which changed all of our lives.  We live with the fallout (in some cases, literal) every day of our lives.

Several years ago, in 2012 and updated later, I wrote a post "One Day We Will Forget".

In that post, I said this:

"No, don't be angry at me.  I will remember September 11 for the rest of my life. I remember it every year.  First, it was my father in law's birthday (although he was no longer with us on that day.)  Then, it became the day I watched in horror (after my employer hastily located a television) as the second tower fell, later finding out that one of my co workers lost his son on that day. His daughter in law was pregnant.  Other people I know lost loved ones.  11 people who went to my high school died that day.  Two of them left pregnant spouses."

Today and tomorrow, I will think of 9/11, but I ask you to consider this:

Tomorrow, all of the children born on September 11, 2001 will turn 18.  In the state of New York, where I live, and where most of the deaths took place, that means they enter adulthood.

In the next nine months, children will turn 18 who have lived their entire lives, every moment, in a post - 9/11 world.

What will they think of what we have made this world into?

And oh yes, as they turn 18 they gain the right to vote.

Will they use that right?  I wonder.

I ended my post with this:

"Our world isn't theirs.

They will remember, but not the way we do.  Our job is to make sure they know about the day and its meaning, and let them sort it out. Keep in mind that the children born on September 11, 2001, will turn 18 on September 11, 2019, and will be granted the right to vote.

I hope they will use that power of the vote well."

RIP Luis Alvarez

Such a simple post to write about such a complex topic.

I don't understand how 9/11 can turn into a political football every several years, as first responders from the tragic events of September 11, 2001 must come to Congress and beg for continued funding for a fund that helps pay for their medical treatments.  This fund has to be renewed every few years.

Earlier this month, a man by the name of Luis Alvarez came and testified.  He was dying of colorectal cancer, having undergone 68 chemo treatments.  It is estimated some 50,000 people are or have suffered from exposure to 9/11 dust or chemicals.

Alvarez was a New York City policeman, at one time serving on their bomb squad.  Not only did he respond on 9/11 but he worked on a human chain of people, day after day, who tried to recover what was left of the dead.  I had connections to some of these dead, and I know some of my readers had a connection, too.

Alverez went into hospice care after his testimony.  He passed away yesterday at the age of 53.

Faithful unto death.

Rest in peace.

Cortlandt Street Station

I grew up in New York City.  In 1973, the last full year I lived in New York City, I used the subway to commute to my summer job on West Broadway in lower Manhattan.  My stop was called Park Place.

On payday, I would do my banking in the World Trade Center, which, at that time, hadn't yet fully opened to the public.

In 1974, my husband and I went to lower Manhattan to get our marriage license, and, afterwards, I took him into the lobby of one of the Twin Towers.

It would be the last time either of us ever set foot in that building, or that neighborhood, until 2002.

In mid-August of 2002, 11 months after what we call "9/11" in our United States, I finally felt ready enough to make the trip to New York City. I brought my then preteen son and my husband to "Ground Zero", accompanied (reluctantly, for very good reasons) by a dear cousin's husband.  He had lost his best friend when the South Tower collapsed.

On the subway ride from his home in Brooklyn, our train was detoured, and I knew why.  We were being detoured around a destroyed subway stop, Cortlandt Street, not far from my old Park Place stop.  The Cortlandt Street station, which was below the World Trade Center, was built in 1918, the year my mother was born, and destroyed on 9/11/01, the day my late father in law would have turned 75.

We were told the station would never be rebuilt.  But, later, the city changed its mind.

On September 8, 2018, the rebuilt station reopened.

It is now called "WTC Cortlandt".

Brooklyn Bridge, September 2015, with new construction to the left

New York City is always under reconstruction, but this was a massive recovery even for the city of my birth.  One day, I hope to visit and pay my respects to what has risen in the place of the Twin Towers.

I will never forget.

Yes One Day We Will Forget

A couple of weeks ago, I had a conversation with a co-worker which, for some reason, evolved into a discussion about September 11, 2001.

One day we will forget. 

One day it will be only the day on the calendar between September 10 and September 12.

One day, we won't remember the moments of the day.  The minute each plane hit its target.  The moment each World Trade Center collapsed.   The moment the Pentagon erupted in flames. 

The moment Flight 93 plowed into a Pennsylvania field.

One day New York won't reschedule a primary election because it falls on September 11. (Even now, in 2018, our primary, instead of today, will be held on Thursday).

No, don't be angry at me.  I will remember September 11 for the rest of my life. I remember it every year.  First, it was my father in law's birthday (although he was no longer with us on that day.)  Then, it became the day I watched in horror (after my employer hastily located a television) as the second tower fell, later finding out that one of my co workers lost his son on that day. His daughter in law was pregnant.  Other people I know lost loved ones.  13 people who went to my high school died that day.  Two of them left pregnant spouses.

Those children and others will be turning 17 in the next few months, and this is the point I want to make.  It is a point we may not like, but it is a point that history teaches us.

Our children will forget.  Or maybe our grandchildren.  It is happening right before our eyes.

Today, I think of those who are still dying as a result of 9/11.  Yes, thousands of first responders and others are still suffering aftereffects today. They are still dying from cancer and other 9/11 related illnesses, even as they fight for extensions of deadlines set by Congress:  December 18, 2020.

How do you put a deadline on cancer?  And the ironic part?  We speculate that the one plane that did not reach its target, Flight 93 memorialized above, was headed towards the Capital building when its heroic passengers fought the hijackers for control of the plane.  May they rest in peace, in a field in Western Pennsylvania, forever.

But one day, all those who experienced 9/11 will be gone, unable to give further testimony.

My son was middle school aged on September 11, 2001, and he remembers.  But those children who were two or three on that day, will they remember?  Will the 11 year olds, unless they lost a family member and 9/11 remembrance is something their families do every day?  Do you think the schools are teaching 9/11?  Some are.  Some aren't.  How about those homeschooling?  But even by learning at home or in a school building, 9/11 will never have the same meaning to them as it does to us. They live in a post 9/11 world.  The day itself will eventually be empty of the meaning we, who were alive then, give it.

And maybe that isn't totally a bad thing.

As long as we give the day meaning, true meaning, and incorporate that meaning into our daily lives, our children will remember the meaning.  But they will turn that memory into something that matters to them, the generation that wasn't yet born.  They only know a post 9/11 world. We can never truly know what that means, to know a world from before that date we observe today.

Our world isn't theirs.

They will remember, but not the way we do.  Our job is to make sure they know about the day and its meaning, and let them sort it out. Keep in mind that the children born on September 11, 2001, will turn 18 on September 11, 2019, and will be granted the right to vote.

I hope they will use that power of the vote well.

But for now, my generation, and yours, will remember those innocents who died on that day. 

(Part of this post was originally posted on September 11, 2012).

Music Moves Me - The Children of 9/11

September 11 memorial, Putnam Valley, New York. 9-11-16

Those of my generation will never forget.

Steel Girder from World Trade Center - South Carolina State Museum

Today, September 11, 2017, we pause  to mark events that took the lives of over 3,000 innocents on September 11, 2001.  The World Trade Center.  The Pentagon.  Flight 93, crashed by its passengers so the terrorists could not use it as a further weapon that day.

And not just Americans.  Hundreds of citizens of other countries died on our soil that day. That's an important thing to remember - we were not alone in our suffering.  The suffering has continued daily, for all these years - thousands and thousands from all over the world.

As someone who grew up in New York City, I was connected to many who suffered losses that day.  Eleven alumni of my high school died at the World Trade Center, including Ari Jacobs.  This People magazine interview piece interviews both Jacob's widow and his now-teenaged son Gabi, born six days after the attack. (More on Gabi below).

When I think of September 11, I think of someone who had worked at my company.  This man  lost his son (and, several years later, his other son died by suicide).    It wasn't just a son who worked in the North Tower who died that day.

By no stretch of the imagination was my suffering anything like the suffering of those directly affected.  Many of my readers have their own, powerful stories.  Today, let us come together to continue our healing process.

Music has a powerful ability to provide a message, and to heal.  Here are some 9/11 related songs I'd like to share with you.

I will start with a song that's now a classic - Alan Jackson with "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)".

My son, some years ago, introduced me to a group called Dream Theatre.  This live version of the song, Sacrificed Sons, talks about the 9/11 attacks (note, this is a long video).

The Rising - Bruce Springsteen

This, the first song by a group My Chemical Romance, was written by a witness to the attack on the World Trade Center and the fall of the twin towers.

For the final song, I'd first like to quote from the interview above with Gabi, the son of someone from my high school who died on 9/11, as described above.  “Some people believe in God or the greater power,” says Gabi “I believe that the ones close to you that we’ve lost are there to help you, watching every step you take.”

Gabi and his mother also described, in the above interview, how they would scream out the words to the Imagine Dragons song "Demons".  I thought I would end this blog post with Gabi's choice of song.

Come join this blog hop and help us commemorate this day many of us will remember for the rest of our lives.

Join this #MusicMovesMe blog hop every Monday - here are the people responsible for it:
X mas Dolly is the Conductor of this trip, and the other Conductors are her fellow bloggers Callie of JAmerican Spice, ♥Stacy of Stacy Uncorked♥  and Cathy from Curious as a Cathy.
 

Throwback Sunday-September 11, 2011 I Am So Grateful

I dedicate today's post to "Miss Norma", a woman in her 90's with terminal cancer who has been traveling the United States in a motor home with her son and daughter in law.  It has now become apparent that the end of being on this Earth is near for Miss Norma.   But the last year of her life has brought so much adventure to her - and so much gratitude for all that have been reading the posts of her family.

Godspeed, Miss Norma.  As your family wrote on Facebook yesterday, "We cannot control the wind but we can direct the sail.” —unknown."

Today, I rerun a post from September 11, 2011, the 10th anniversary of what we call "9/11" in the United States.  But September 11, 2011 had a different meaning for me.  This is the fifth anniversary of my returning home from vacation after a natural disaster hit my area of New York State.

My first post from September 11, 2011 was yesterday.  This, with minor edits, was my second post.

The events of September 11, 2011 gave "9/11" a whole new meaning for me and my spouse.  It is the anniversary of a homecoming.  The day before, we drove over seven and a half hours from Maine to upstate New York, knowing our neighborhood had been flooded September 7-8.  We weren't able to arrive in time to beat a curfew, and police would not allow us back into our neighborhood.  We had to drive another 35 minutes just to find a motel room.  But now, September 11, 2011, we are let in, and our not knowing is about to end.

We have come home and I write the below post from my home computer because - another miracle - we have power.

For my faithful readers, thank you for bearing with me during this week of remembering.  Is it strange that I returned to my flooded neighborhood with a feeling of - gratitude?

Sunrise 9-8-16

September 11, 2011 - I Am So Grateful

I am so grateful today.

 Some of you may be getting tired of my recent posts about a storm called Lee and the over 10 inches of rain dumped on the Binghamton, New York area a few days ago (on top of what we had received from Tropical Storm Irene), causing flash floods and then record river flooding.  But it is very real to me and to over 20,000 people evacuated from this area.  If I had been home and not on vacation, I would have been one of those evacuees. 

My son was one of the evacuees, told to leave his trailer park after a mudslide hit the area. Turns out about half the park was lost, trailers tossed everywhere.  His was not one of them.  The water stopped just short of his floor, so his contents remained dry.

He had a lot of problems fleeing on the damaged roads, but made it to our house in time for the river flooding to begin.  We have flood walls in our neighborhood, but they were fully breached for the first time since they were built in the 1930's (5 years ago there was some spillage but the rains stopped just in time).  Areas in easy walking distance of my house were totally under water, including a Home Depot and a major area employer.  Our house remained an island along with part of our neighborhood.  Other parts of the neighborhood, on the other side of Main Street, are still under water,I understand.

The evacuees returned between yesterday and today at least on this side of Main St.  Our local supermarket reopened yesterday.  Many, many basements were flooded.  No houses were swept away in our immediate neighborhood but there is a lot of damage.  There was a breach of diesel tanks several doors down from us at a municipal water pumping station so diesel also spilled into the water.  Frankly, it stinks of diesel everywhere.

Ironically we are no longer under a boil water order but the order remains in force several blocks from us.

So why am I grateful?
1.  The obvious - our house is here, and is livable.  Our immediate neighbors are here and their houses are livable.
2.  No lives were lost that I am aware of, although one neighbor had to be rescued from deep water because he tried to evacuate using a street that turned out to be the wrong street to use.  Ironically his house was probably the least damaged of those on our block.  His car is still under water on the infamous "other side of Main Street".  He got his share of ribbing today.
3.  Neighbors have pulled together, not that this is ever an unfriendly community.  We got offers of help from children of one next door neighbor (the one I wrote about in July when his wife died).  One neighbor cooked breakfast for my son while he was here.  I am told there were impromptu block parties last night along with a mystery fireworks show.  And gosh, we missed it!
4.  The firemen.  Yes.  Firemen from Throop, PA were here earlier yesterday helping to pump out basements.  (I don't know the exact distance from here but they are close to Scranton, which is an hour away.  And PA has its own problems right now!)  Also in our neighborhood were firemen from Moravia, NY, which is in Cayuga County, to the south and west of Syracuse.  One of their trucks was decorated with a 9/11/01 commemoration.
5.  My T-Shirt.  As soon as I got home I knew I would be getting dirty so I dug for an old T-Shirt.  And what leaped into my hands but a NYFD T-Shirt I purchased at Macy's right after 9/11, when I was visiting my downstate mother in law.  Proceeds from the T-Shirt benefited the first responders of that day.  And now they are up here, 10 years later, helping us.  For what it is worth, all or almost all of the 9/11 commemoration ceremonies in this area were canceled due to the flood.

I hope soon I can return to the "regularly scheduled blog programming" but for now, what is happening in my neighborhood deserves my time and blogging attention.  What you will not get is pictures of houses, as I will not document that kind of misery. But businesses are fair game and - well, I have to be able to get close enough first.

Tomorrow is another day....

Local Saturday - A Taste of Homelessness after a Disaster September 11, 2011

Tomorrow is September 11, 2016, the 15th anniversary of what we in the United States call "9/11". 

But for my spouse and I, another September 11 - September 11, 2011 - was significant.  On September 10, 2011 we returned from a vacation in Maine, over seven hours away from home.  Earlier in the week, our neighborhood, along with many parts of our state, had flooded due to record rains from a tropical storm.  On September 10 we drove back, with bottled water and cleaning supplies.only to be turned away by police.

We drove to a mall on a hill, overlooking our neighborhood, not knowing what would happen next.  So close to home, but homeless for that night.  We didn't know where to go.  I finally called a work friend, knowing she wouldn't be able to put us up, but we didn't know what areas had flooded, and where to look for a place for the night. She gave us some information.  We looked and looked locally, stopping at many overwhelmed motels flooded (no pun intended) with people.  It was not a pretty sight.

Finally, thanks to a wonderful desk clerk at a Comfort Inn, we found a place to sleep, but first, had to drive another 35 miles after having driven so many miles from the state of Maine that day.

Just a little taste of what so many people go through for days, months, or years.

Here are the first of two posts from September 11, 2011.  The second one will be tomorrow.

September 11, 2011 - Almost in the Flood Zone

We did not make it back to our neighborhood.  Midway through our drive from Maine to the Binghamton area yesterday, our son called and told us about an 8pm curfew.  So time suddenly became of the essence.

According to 511NY, I-88 was open all the way.  It wasn't.  The detour cost us time.  We got to our neighborhood at 7:40 pm, Main Street was closed and blocked, the emergency worker told us they had closed at 7:30.  He would have "turned his back" if we parked in a certain place and walked in "just to take a look" but it was dark and it would have been too dangerous.

We quickly found all the area motels were full.  We ended up in Cortland, NY, about 35 miles from where we live, totally exhausted. We will be leaving later this morning to go back to the Triple Cities.

I am watching the 9/11 ceremonies live as I blog this.  I just finished chatting with the one neighbor who didn't evacuate and he advised there is traffic in the neighborhood once again.  What a juxposition.  9/11 ceremonies and wondering what we will find in our devastated neighborhood.  I saw a picture on the TV as I ate breakfast.

I want to note there are a lot of people in our area worse off than we are.  Please do not feel sorry for us.  Our house is still there.

During our brief visit to near our neighbhorhood there was an indescribable haze, a haze of dust being raised by people plowing the road (yes, they were plowing Main Street) The flood smell I can't even describe was there.

Remember the Michael Jackson song describing the "funk of 40 thousand years"?

 It would not have been a pleasant night.

My heart goes out to all the emergency workers and rescuers on this special 9/11.  You are at work once again. You are keeping my home and neighborhood safe.   And my son's.  I haven't even talked about my son's situation yet.  Stay tuned.

Wish us luck as we try to go back today.

Falling Friday - The Walk

It's been a dream of mine, these last few months, to improve my balance so that I will never fall again.

I do exercises - four every day of the week to increase balance, and four more three times a week, to increase strength.  This is part of a program started years ago in Australia called Stepping On.

One of the daily exercises is to walk an imaginary tightrope. 

This has gotten me fascinated by actual tightrope walkers - the people who risk their lives, and sometimes lose them - such as Karl Wallenda of the famous Wallenda family, who fell to his death at age 73.

And then there is the true story of Philippe Petit, who (illegally) walked a wire between the two towers of the World Trade Center, the same towers that so tragically were destroyed by terrorists on September 11, 2001.  I warn anyone who is still disturbed by images of the towers not to watch the following video.

Our world is so different now, in those 41 years since this walk happened.

Since I started the exercise program in May, I've walked that imaginary tightrope daily.  In my kitchen.  At work, during lunch.  At my mother in law's house.  Outside.  I can walk that imaginery tightrope now without holding onto something - but not for long.

I was warned, it would be a long road.

Now I read Philippe Petit's story, and marvel - he is older than I am.

Where did I go wrong?  Will I ever be able to walk a straight line? (I don't think I would ever dare a true tightrope.)

In the meantime, every day, I dream of better balance.

The Ones Who Linger

This is a post inspired by events of 14 years ago, part of a #SeptemberChallenge hosted by Everyday Gyaan. (Please visit her blog after you read my post for an amazing September 11 post from India.)

They linger, the civilian casualties of September 11, 2001.

In August, a woman who became known as the "Dust Lady" of the 9/11 attacks died from stomach cancer.  She is not the first civilian casualty of 9/11 to die from medical causes and not the crash of airplanes or the ground destruction of that day.

She won't be the last.  The rates of cancer in first responders that day are known, but what is less well known is the number of civilian casualties, still dying 14 years after the attacks.

Is this a controversial statement?  No, I don't think so.  I may know one of these civilian casualties.

One of those civilian casualties may have been the singer Donna Summer.

Others were less famous, but they suffer just the same.

One may have been my uncle. who passed away in 2005.  The plume of toxic smoke passed over his Brooklyn neighborhood. His health deteriorated.  Another may be a childhood friend, who lives in a nearby neighborhood. The dust fell all over her house and yard.  In August of 2012 I visited her and her husband, and she showed me how she was still finding dust in nooks and crannies of her house.

At night, she coughed much of the night, so loud I could hear her on a different floor of the house.

Now, she is ill with lung cancer.

We will never know for sure, officially, but I believe the illnesses of both individuals were both, at least in part, related to 9/11.

"9/11", in our country, has a certain meaning.  We all know it means "September 11, 2001", also known as the day that terrorist attacks in three points of our country (the World Trade Center in New York City, the Pentagon in Virginia, and a Pennsylvania farm where a plane destined for still another target crashed) took over 3,000 lives.

I grew up in New York City. 13 of these people who died (including a fireman, Christian Regenhard) went to my high school, and some others from my school helped at Ground Zero in the aftermath.  I know several people who saw one or both World Trade Center towers fall.  I know people who knew people who died there.

I knew someone, up here in Binghamton, who lost one of his two sons. A part of him died that day,  and he took early retirement later that year.  He lost his other son several years later, in what I suspect was "collateral damage".

I felt, years ago, that life would go on eventually, and September 11 would again be a day during which people in the United States could be happy.  We would still remember, but we could also be happy.  In fact, I blogged about this belief on September 11, 2001.  Now, I wonder if I was wrong.

Can we truly forget this day as long as the civilian deaths continue? And it isn't just people in our country.  Thousands have died in the Middle East and in Afghanistan, due to the aftermath of 9/11.  Thousands more have become refugees, or slaves, or victims of sexual violence.

So much suffering.

We had no idea, on September 12, 2001, exactly what had been put in motion.  Now, we have a better idea, with no idea how it will all end.

Our world will never be the same again.

Another 9/11

Today is September 11, 2014, the 13th anniversary of what we in the United States simply call "9/11", as if that was the only September 11 ever.

Of course, it wasn't, although if you say 9/11 to the average American, this is one of the images he or she may get - heroic first responders.

I don't minimize September 11, 2001, not at all. As someone who grew up in New York City, I know people who suffered terribly, from the loss of a son, to the loss of a best friend, to losses of neighbors, to two people from this area who responded to that area and provided services (my exercise instructor stayed for nearly a month to help out) and an elderly uncle in Brooklyn who may have had preexisting health problems aggravated by breathing in the fumes.  But there is another September 11 that will also stay in my mind, side by side with the more famous one.

On September 8/9, 2011, massive flooding hit the Southern Tier of New York and caused extensive damage to many neighborhoods.  An aerial photo of my neighborhood, Westover, near Johnson City, New York, became the iconic cover of a local book about the flood.

My neighborhood is still recovering, three years later.

On the morning of September 11, 2011, I wrote the below post from a motel room in Cortland, New York.  What it doesn't mention is what we saw after we arrived in our neighborhood.  We saw fire trucks from the Syracuse area and from parts of Pennsylvania.  These first responders had come to help our neighbors who were seriously flooded.  And, there was more.  The Salvation Army set up a food tent several blocks from where we live so people without homes could get a hot meal. 

In the coming days local business owners and their employees, some of whose businesses had had to close temporarily, helped the people of my neighborhood and other neighborhoods.  One set up a food tent and cooked donated food. Others spearheaded a furniture drive. 

Maureen McGovern even did a benefit concert for our area. The concert had already been scheduled, and Ms. McGovern donated her profits to flood relief.  What class!

If you have never had to depend on the generosity of co workers and neighbors, hope you never have to.

Every one of those people was heroic in their own way.  And, as much as I have a personal stake in the memories of September 11, 2001,  I remember, just as vividly, a September 11, 10 years later.

Here's my post from that date.

September 11, 2011

We did not make it back to our neighborhood on September 10.  Midway through our drive from Maine to the Binghamton area yesterday, our son called and told us about an 8pm curfew.  So time suddenly became of the essence.

According to 511NY, I-88 was open all the way.  It wasn't.  The detour cost us time.  We got to our neighborhood at 7:40 pm, Main Street was closed and blocked, the emergency worker told us they had closed at 7:30.  He would have "turned his back" if we parked in a certain place and walked in "just to take a look" but it was dark and it would have been too dangerous.

We quickly found all the area motels were full.  We ended up in Cortland, NY, about 35 miles from where we live, totally exhausted. We will be leaving later this morning to go back to the Triple Cities.

I am watching the 9/11 ceremonies live as I blog this.  I just finished chatting with the one neighbor who didn't evacuate and he advised there is traffic in the neighborhood once again.  What a juxposition.  9/11 ceremonies and wondering what we will find in our devastated neighborhood.  I saw a picture on the TV as I ate breakfast.

I want to note there are a lot of people in our area worse off than we are.  Please do not feel sorry for us.  Our house is still there.

During our brief visit to near our neighbhorhood there was an indescribable haze, a haze of dust being raised by people plowing the road (yes, they were plowing Main Street) The flood smell I can't even describe was there.

Remember the Michael Jackson song describing the "funk of 40 thousand years"?

 It would not have been a pleasant night.

My heart goes out to all the emergency workers and rescuers on this special 9/11.  You are at work once again. You are keeping my home and neighborhood safe.   And my son's.  I haven't even talked about my son's situation yet. 

Wish us luck as we try to go back today.