Sept. 11 anniversaries seem to come around faster and faster every year. For no apparent reason this one hit harder than most.
Tuesday evening, Larisa, our friend John and I were sitting on our patio chatting about our health and how long we would hold on to it. That led to discussion about our parents, both living and dead. Lots of laughter, tears and reflection.
I often think of the words Jim Valvano, the former basketball coach for North Carolina State, spoke shortly before he died of cancer. He gave us three simple keys. “Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think, you should spend some time in thought. And number three is you should have your emotions moved to tears … If you laugh, you think and you cry, that’s a full day. That’s a heck of a day.”
Truer words were never spoken.
Yesterday I listened to 9/11 tributes on the radio during my morning commute. Still in my mind set from the night before, it hit me.
It had been years since I relived the morning of Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001. I was in charge of production at the Columbia City newspaper and we had an early morning press time.
Halfway through the run, our editor, Ruth, called to tell me a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I thought it was a joke. Ruth directed me to put her on hold and turn on the TV, which I did just in time to see the second plane hit.
We put Tuesday’s newspaper together the night before so Ruth wasn’t in the office but was on her way. The entire office was huddled around a tiny TV in the conference room. Many were crying. Our vending machine guy, Mark, was in the back corner watching events unfold with us. At some point we decided it was time to rebuild that day’s newspaper and get back on the press. Events were changing minute by minute but we couldn’t wait for the day to slow down. A newspaper is said to be the first draft of history and it was time to get moving on that draft. Everyone wiped their tears, bottled up their emotions and got to work — it was a mad dash to get that newspaper printed.
I vividly remember watching Mark, still sitting there alone, trying to process the events in New York and the additional chaos of our newsroom in full-bore production mode.
Once the newspaper was back on the press. We weren’t exactly sure what to do next. I remember sitting by myself in complete silence for quite a while. Eventually it was time for each of us to flip the switch and process our emotions like the rest of the country.
Back to yesterday, I realized that I hadn’t spoken to Ruth in years. Time slips away from you so easily. I sent her and our then-publisher, BJ, a text letting them know about how I was feeling and how much I appreciated working through such a traumatic event with both of them.
They had many of the same memories. Ruth noted that she had to keep her emotions in check while she sorted through hundreds of photos for the newspaper, trying not to see the humanity, but still seeing it. She did not remember Mark being there at all. It’s interesting how such a trivial detail stood out so vividly to me, but didn’t register at all with her.
BJ told me that each year he feels it as though it just happened. That singular event has forever bound that group together.
He is right. I feel the same. Coworkers have come and gone but that specific group has always been special to me as well. I never put those two things together until yesterday.
Reaching out to a few of them was the best medicine for me on such a somber occasion.
That 24 hour period this week was a full day. It was a heck of a day.
dougb@news-banner.com
