9•11•9th

The 9th anniversary of September 11 (9/11/01) was remembered this weekend. As I write this, I am nervous because both my husband and my oldest son, Piers, are traveling on 9•9•9 (September (9th month), 9, 9th anniversary of 9/11). I wouldn’t put it past the terrorists to use this date to their advantage. Fortunately, they arrived safely and have returned from a UVA vs. USC game, where they were the only orange hats in a sea of maroon.

It’s hard for me to believe that it has already been nine years. Living in the DC area, we live with this date daily. I have evacuation bags packed and supplies read to go just in case. Call me superstitious but when you live through something this unprecedented you don’t forget. You take precautions. On top of Katrina’s anniversary, I always know 9/11 is right around the corner. What I did not mention in my last post regarding this, was not only was I dealing with the logistics for getting our two boys at two different schools — one in DC but my husband, Peter,  was at his office near the  US Capitol and wasn’t budging.

I had just returned from my bi-monthly 8 am volunteer meeting for the King Street Metro Task Force (since disbanded) when someone came into the meeting to let us know that “something had happened to the Twin Towers in New York City.” Our meeting ended and I walked home, a block away. When I turned on the TV at 8:45 am, I noticed the crash. I was watching when the second plane crashed into the second tower. I was on the phone with Peter and the crash occurred at the Pentagon. Our phone conversation was disconnected. Somehow I got back in touch with him and told him to leave. He didn’t want to because he hadn’t received the word to do so. What?! After nine years this resilience still hits hard as in “what if.” After much cajoling from me, he finally left and was able to drive over the 14th street bridge. So many others had left their cars and were walking. Peter gave another co-worker a ride home. He went to pick up Jackson at our church, parish school but our communication had been cut off so I had already been there. Peter returned home and got prepared, with a flashlight and water, to pick up Piers at St. Anselm’s Abbey School in upper DC. I didn’t know if I’d see him again. It was a surreal experience that I never want to repeat. In the meantime, I called my friend (same one who was in New Orleans during Katrina) to make sure she was safe in NY. Luckily she was in California. My other good friend was there with her family, but fortunately, out of harms way.

The next few weeks were filled with fighter jets overhead and most everything for at least a week was stopped. I met friends in the park. I marched in the streets with a group with American flags. We passed a Muslim bookstore that had been raided. I knew that things would never be the same.

Peter and I just watched a series of these accounts regarding 9/11 on National Geographic. It brought it all home again. Honestly, it feels like yesterday. I don’t want to remember but I don’t want to forget. I’ve taped the coverage for my boys to review one day and I have kept a scrapbook (as I did with Katrina – seems to be my way of dealing with crisis). I hope these will be valid reminders for what happened and for what we hope will never happen again.

Here’s a mural to keep in mind:

Another thing to keep in mind is the 2010 Fall Arts Preview just put out by the Washington Post. There are so many exciting things to look forward to.