“Sue, turn on the TV. Something is happening.”

It’s interesting that I was notified about the biggest news in my lifetime by my sister that doesn’t follow the news. Because I was on the west coast and not an early riser, I was asleep when the phone rang. I was annoyed. Who on earth would be calling me at that hour? She called after the pentagon had been hit but before the towers collapsed or the crash in Pennsylvania. Like millions of others, I stared at the television unable to process what I was seeing. Two enormous buildings with billowing smoke, the center of the American military on fire. Disbelief. As they replayed the video of the planes hitting the buildings, I remember thinking, where did the planes go? Did they come out the other side? No. I just kept looking at those towers thinking of how many people were in them. Seeing images of hundreds of people hanging out of windows 90 floors above the ground in hopes of being rescued. Unbelievable. Why aren’t there helicopters? How are those people going to get out? Then, the most desperate decisions were made. People began to jump. The first, I wondered if they fell from trying to get away from the heat and the smoke. But then there were more. Lots more. It was unimaginable to me that so many people jumped. But what was their choice? Burn or jump? When the towers went down, I remember thinking 50,000 Americans were just gone, vaporized. I couldn’t fathom that thought. How is this possible?

So much was unknown and the story was changing rapidly. Listening to the news anchors trying to make sense of what was unfolding. There was a lot of speculation and guessing while the information trickled in. How many more planes were were hijacked? No one knew. But one more was still heading for it’s target but got thwarted by the spirit of heroic Americans that said no more. They knew they would not survive their efforts but they also knew they would spare untold numbers of fellow Americans. As the images of that scene began to emerge, I had the same question. Where was the plane? Where were the pieces of the plane? There was a crater. No plane. No parts. No people.

As all civilian planes in American airspace were ordered to the ground, we stood transfixed wondering what more this day would bring. Were there other targets? New York, Washington DC, what more? Were there targets on the west coast? Los Angeles seemed at risk. Maybe Seattle. As I’m trying to wrap my mind around this country being under attack, I still had to go to work. It didn’t feel safe to be away from my daughter on that day with a dangerous situation that was yet to be contained. Instead of taking my daughter to school, I asked my sister to keep her for the day. I just wanted her to be with someone that could care for her if evil occurred in Portland. I didn’t have a cell phone. We had been hearing that phone calls on the east coast weren’t happening. There was speculation about bridge bombings, water supply poisoning, we had no idea how widespread this attack would be. It seems silly looking back but I remember thinking that I work close to a large mall which could have been a target. If that was hit, I might not be able to get to my daughter. She needed to be with family that day.

At work, we watched the television all day. The horror didn’t stop. As the day progressed, we watched and waited for the volumes of casualties that surely would descend upon the New York hospitals. They were eerily empty and quiet. No one came. More buildings caught fire. More buildings collapsed. The situation was not stable as darkness fell on Manhattan. It seemed as though the active attack was over but the magnitude of the day was still coming to light. As I left work that day, I remember how quiet the sky was. I found myself looking to the sky in the coming days but there were no planes with the exception of a military plane now and then. It was unimaginable that we had military planes patrolling our airspace in search of a very real threat.

In the days to come, we continued to follow the ever changing tragedy on the east coast. There was desperate hope that people would be found, trapped but alive. Thousands of photographs were being posted of missing loved ones. Families wandering around with vacant expressions holding pictures of husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, so many families with missing members. We were expecting stories of miraculous survival. Those stories never came. And the pile, as it was called then, continued to burn and smoke. Images of exhausted first responders, politicians trying to find a way to inspire and reassure, and no recoveries. Again, where are all the people?

As the reality of the lack of survivors began to sink in, a new story of unity, grit, determination, and resiliency was being written. A new experience for me personally was unfolding. Being raised in the era of reciting the Pledge of Allegiance in school, I had a surprising lack of appreciation for our freedoms. 9/11 changed the world but from my perspective, not in the ways that many speak about that day. I felt like an American, one nation, under God. (not sure about the God part for me personally). But I felt pride. I felt patriotic. I felt connected to New York though I’d never been there. We got to see the best of what it means to be an American. The iron workers and steel workers went to ground zero to do what they could to assist in the rescue and recovery of victims. Garbage collectors used their fleet to remove debris. Michelin star chefs were elbow to elbow with cafeteria lunch ladies providing meals to the people working the site. Medical personnel were on site treating the exhausted, dehydrated first responders. Clergy of every denomination came together to provide spiritual guidance and comfort. The police and the military were very present and were now treated with such reverence and respect. So many young people were enlisting in the military to join the fight against terrorism. Citizens from all over the country were sending money, food, teddy bears, water, all manner of goods that could be useful. Municipalities across the country sent firefighters, search and rescue teams, medics, everyone wanted to do what they could to help. Celebrities began to use their influence to produce fund raising programs. Radio stations played inspirational and patriotic content. Newspapers were running stories of heros, big and small, all doing what they could for their fellows. The generosity of spirit and the selfless courage to help people they’d never see again was humbling. Then there were the flags. So. Many. Flags. We came together in those days in a way that I had never seen in my lifetime. I now understood what the older generations meant when they talked about other ominous days in history – Pearl Harbor, the Kennedy assassination, the first walk on the moon. This was my “where were you when” moment that I will never forget.

In the months to come, we adapted to this new threat. Flying became a completely different experience. Prior to that September day in 2001 we could just go to the gate at an airport with pretty much anything in our bags and our friends and family kissing us goodbye. Looking back, that seems so unsafe and ridiculous. Now, we have to get half naked to go through security. Shoes off, belt off, jacket off, glasses off. your underwire bra might beep, you may be asked to take your ponytail out, you may get patted down or strip searched, your bags may be opened and searched, your bag may be screened for explosives. Because these terrorists didn’t execute their attack with big weapons and bombs but rather small box knives, we now cannot carry on matches, lighters, liquids, or anything remotely sharp. For me, I will never, ever complain about all the additional security measures that exist now. That fear, however small, still resides in me.

As I reflect on this day 20 years ago, I am so disheartened by where we are today as a country. We have come so far in the past 20 years and not in good ways. We all have our opinions as to how we got here. Some of us agree on that and some don’t. Some are pointing the finger and saying it’s not MY fault for the state of affairs and that is true for some but not others. At this point, I don’t even want to spend any energy on blame but rather healing and reuniting. In the past few years, our country and our citizens have been challenged in many profound ways. Racism is as bad as it’s ever been. I just think it was less visible for a while. Women’s rights are incrementally being threatened at the very least and taken away in some states. The balance in the supreme court which is imperative to fair decisions that benefit the most is shifting to one extreme as new appointments are made. The prevailing attitude is you’re either red or blue, with me or against me. We have lost the perspective that is a tenet of the essence of America – freedom. It seems like we used to have a much more robust collective opinion of live and let live. Now, it feels like live how “I” live or you’re WRONG. Or, if we are being asked to make choices that might benefit the greater good, somehow that means someone is trying to take away our rights. It’s just such nonsense.

We are not now being attacked by terrorism as a country, although some would disagree (I see you, conspiracy theory people). But we are being attacked as a people by a pandemic that requires that we come together in this battle. This is yet another opportunity for families, communities, cities, and states to work together to fight this virus by functioning as one. Will that require individual sacrifice? Well, that’s a matter of opinion. Will that require individual inconvenience for the benefit of many? Yep. I’m not going to get into my opinion on masks or vaccines or mandates or any of that. Tonight, I think back on all the American citizens that came together those 20 years ago. They joined the military to fight terrorism and were willing to potentially make the ultimate sacrifice in that effort, the hundreds of men and women that ran back into buildings to save people they didn’t know not knowing if they themselves would make it home, the hundreds of every day people that pitched in however they could, the children of all these heros that became firefighters and police officers to carry on the legacy of their loved ones, I wonder, how did we get here from there? How did we go from “we’re all in this together” to “every man for himself?”

I’m tired, exhausted really. While I am on a personal journey to shift my lifelong perspective of cynicism to optimism, times like these don’t fuel that effort. I’m just so sick and tired of the continuous division at kitchen tables and conference tables. When did this become less about human to human and more about pick a side? I’ve seen friendships ended, families estranged, people putting beliefs and opinions above love and relationship and acceptance. No one ever said when our founding fathers came together that we would agree on all things in the creation of this democracy. But they agreed to fight the good fight, have a healthy debate, allow the freedom to voice your position, but when the decisions were made, they agreed to move forward in unity. I’m reminded of presidential debates when the parties are choosing their candidate. Many people throw their hat into the ring in hopes of becoming the nominee for their party. They debate, disagree, argue, sling the mud, but when the nominee is selected, for the most part, they graciously stand behind the nomination in support.

Again, I think we all have our opinions about what created this culture of hostility and separatism but even delving into that quagmire is rife with risk of even more division. I would love to spout off about it but restraint is part of what I believe is necessary to healing and reuniting. I wish I had some magic words to wrap up this post but I don’t. I wish I could wax on with all the ways we can bring our communities back together and heal our families. I don’t know how to get there from here. But on this meaningful anniversary of one of the darkest days in American history, I am choosing to remember the best of us from 9/12/2001 rather than focusing on the disgraceful nation of 9/11/2021. The older I get, the more important it is to me to make a difference in my own small way. My profession is about helping people recover. My greatest pride personally is of course continuing to walk with my daughter on her journey and also mentoring other women that are making positive contributions to their world. Every day we have a choice. Are you going to choose to be oppositional because you can? Or are you going to take a breath and ask yourself, how can I help in this moment? What is the outcome that I am seeking? For me, I am going to continue to make my voice heard to those that want to hear it but hopefully without accusation and judgement for those that disagree with me. So, stay tuned. I’m back and I’m still full of stories bursting to see the light of day. I hope you’ll come with me.