9/11, 9/12... What's the Difference?

I never met Tom.

And I never will.

Tom and I worked together.

Sorta.

We worked in the same building.

A big building.

But we never met.

As far as I know.

Tom never met his son either.

The boy was born in the spring of 2002.

Six months after September 11, 2001.

The day that Tom died.

Tom was a passenger on one of the planes that struck the World Trade Center.

He was headed home.

To be with his pregnant wife.

He never made it.

As you might imagine, I heard nothing but good things about Tom after that tragic day.

And apparently it was all true.

Tom was just a good guy.

Living the dream.

Making plans to be a dad.

For the first time.

Unfortunately he was in the wrong place.

At the very wrong time.

Sadly, Tom’s story is far from unique.

The list of people who were in the wrong place.

At the wrong time.

Runs long.

Very long.

2,977 long.

That’s the number of people who lost their life in the attack.

Ten years ago.

Today.

It’s still hard to believe.

Impossible to believe that what we all watched that morning was real.

And not some terrible made-for-TV movie.

I went to bed on September 10, 2011 with a disturbing image in my head.

The image of Denver Broncos Wide Receiver Ed McCaffrey breaking his leg on Monday Night Football.

Tuesday morning I didn’t even know a game had been played.

I woke up to a phone call that day.

I was told to put on the television.

When I asked what channel.

I was told, “it doesn’t matter”.

None of us saw the first plane hit the North Tower at 8:46 that morning.

But 17 minutes later we all saw the second plane hit the South Tower.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Even if we didn’t believe it.

It was real.

From that point on, it was impossible to turn off the television.

No matter what channel.

I will never forget watching the towers fall to the ground.

Like somebody had lit the game of Jenga on fire.

Like you, I have seen the horrifying images dozens of dozens.

Of dozens.

Of times.

And each time, I watch with my mouth wide open.

Even ten years later.

Exactly ten years later.

It’s still impossible to believe.

Impossible to comprehend.

To think that there were real people in those buildings.

It’s more than the human heart can handle.

When you think that there were brothers and sisters.

Fathers and mothers.

Aunts and Uncles.

Real people.

Losing their lives in front of our eyes.

It is a tragedy beyond words.

Exactly ten years later, many of us have moved on.

Maybe most of us have moved on.

Especially the lucky ones who didn’t lose anyone on that day.

Of course 9/11 is a day that this country will never forget.

But it is a day that many in this country will never truly remember.

For some, the only lasting memory is a longer wait at airport security.

Not being able to carry on toiletries more than 3.4 ounces can be such an inconvenience. 

Or God forbid your bag needs to get checked before you enter a stadium.

For so many, 9/11 is now just a day filed on the annual calendar.

A sad day?

Absolutely.

A tragic day?

No doubt.

A life changing day?

Not so sure.

Just a day.

You could certainly make a strong case that the war that ensued has affected many more people than those affected by the events on September 11, 2001.

In fact, since 9/11 more than twice as many U.S. Service Personnel have been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan than in the original attack on our soil.

6,239.

And counting.

Gone.

And many forgotten.

Of course there was something extra special about 9/11 this year.

It was the 10th anniversary.

And in this country, we love big round numbers.

But for the families that were changed forever ten years ago today.

Like Tom’s family.

There’s really not much of a difference between 9/11.

And 9/12.

Striking Gold

Last Friday I spent the most I've ever spent at Costco.

And that's saying something.

We use Costco for everything.

Apples to EZ chairs.

And everything in the middle.

About a month ago I walked into the megastore to get a photo printed.

$3.20 later, I had that picture.

That’s only the beginning of this story.

While I was in the photo department I noticed a sign.

It had a picture of one of those old 8-mm tin cans.

And it said that they can transfer the films from those cans to DVD.

For $17.95.

Per can.

My eyes opened up.

Almost nine years ago I inherited a bunch of those cans.

I know it’s almost nine years because that’s when my dad died.

And shortly thereafter, his wife and I went over to his storage unit.

To make us cry even more.

Well crying wasn’t the plan, just the result.

But while we were there we went through a bunch of his “junk”.

Junk that I still treasure.

Pictures.

Books.

Magazines.

And some old family films.

42 of them.

Unedited.

Of course.

And for the next almost nine years they sat in my garage.

In a storage bin.

Waiting to be transfered over to a format that I could actually watch.

Enter Costco.

The store that has everything.

Well just last week I got a call from a lady there that the DVDs were ready to be picked up.

One credit card swipe later, those DVDs were mine.

I spent this past weekend watching those DVDs.

All of them.

And what I saw absolutely blew me away.

It all started with me.

Doesn’t it always.

Tons of footage of me as a baby.

At my first birthday party.

Running around in diapers.

Running around without diapers.

When I should have had diapers on.

My fourth birthday party.

A talent show in elementary school.

Family vacations.

To Mexico.

And Hawaii.

And Lion Country Safari.

My mom and my dad.

Smiling.

Together.

My brother.

As a teenager.

My cousin Lary.

Looking exactly like his son Ryan.

And that’s just the beginning.

In all there was more than eight hours of footage.

HOURS! of footage.

My seven-year old daughter and I spent several hours on Saturday night watching this footage.

And it was pretty amazing how much she looks just like me.

Poor kid.

There was no audio on any of the footage.

Which really cut down on the production value.

And really confused her.

So I opened up iTunes.

Clicked on The Beatles.

And hit play.

It was incredible how well EVERY Beatles song mixed together with grainy film footage from 40+ years ago.

“In My Life”.

“Revolution”.

“All My Loving”.

Even “Julia” sounded like it was meant to be there.

And I don’t even know anyone named Julia.

There’s probably not a whole lot of monetary value for all this footage.

(Until Sir Bacon hits it big of course.)

But to me it’s worth a buzillion bucks.

Which is far less than what I paid at Costco.

But the more I watched the video, the more I noticed some amazing things that didn’t include me.

(If you can believe that.)

How about home video of Mickey Mantle.

And Roberto Clemente.

When they were alive.

And playing.

The 1960 Kentucky Derby.

Nixon’s Inauguration.

Unfortunately that one was WAY out of focus.

Game footage from Super Bowl II.

And V.

And VII.

My parents taking a helicopter tour of New York City.

And seeing shots of the World Trade Center.

Being built.

That had to be in the early 70’s.

Every now and again I stumble across an old picture and I feel like I won the lottery.

This.

This is like winning the SuperMegaPowerUltra Lottery.

My dad left me nine years ago.

And he left me with more memories that I can count.

And I can count real high.

But to see this footage.

After all these years.

It made me cry.

Crying wasn’t the plan.

Just the result.

Ground Control

At about 1:15pm Saturday afternoon, I was riding the C train from Penn Station to Ground Zero on the ninth anniversary of the day that changed the world forever.

I was one stop away from my destination when the doors opened, three men, dressed alike, busted into our train and started screaming.

Honestly, before I could process anything they had said, they had successfully scared the hell out of me.

(And I would imagine everyone else on the train).

I must admit that the idea of visiting the area where the World Trade Center was attacked is still a bit nerve wracking.

Visiting the area where the World Trade Center was attacked ON September 11 is downright eery.

But as I stated before, visiting Ground Zero on 9/11 was something that I felt I had to do. 

As for the three men who joined our train.

Well, as they came on, they shouted something like, “we are not here to cause any trouble, we are here to entertain.”

Then, within five seconds, which felt like five minutes, they turned on a boom box and did an amazing acrobatic meets gymnastic meets break-dancing exhibition.

All while the subway was in full motion.

At the end of the routine, they politely said if anybody wanted to donate money, it would be much appreciated.

Their routine included a series of flips and leaps and jumps, all in the narrow aisle of one subway train.

All with the train at full speed.

I don’t know if they caught anyone else off guard, maybe this happens all the time in New York.

But considering I had already psyched myself up for the scene at Ground Zero, I was definitely not prepared to see a dance routine -- as amazing as it was.

When I got off my train, I walked down Church Street towards the World Trade Center area.

I barely made it half a block before I was greeted by controversy.

The story of the Islamic Community Center/”Ground Zero Mosque” was definitely the hot issue in lower Manhattan.

There were protesters from both sides exchanging very heated words to anybody who would oppose their position.

And in some cases, some people who were on their side.

There was a two-hour rally hosted by a far right conservative group that opposed the building of a mosque so close to Ground Zero.

The rally was attended by thousands of people, hundreds of media and hundreds of others, like me, who had nothing better to do.   

Considering all the flip cameras I saw, I’m sure you can watch many versions of the rally on youtube.

If you have nothing better to do.

As you might imagine, the crowd on both sides of this topic was incredibly passionate.   

I saw dozens of heated discussions/arguments, but fortunately I did not see one physical altercation.

At one point, I noticed a man getting handcuffed and moved into the back of an NYPD police car.

But considering how many people were there and how many of those people were screaming at each other, that’s an incredibly low number.

At the end of the rally, the conservative group had to walk out of their venue and directly past a group of people with completely different beliefs.

There was a recipe for disaster and I was standing literally in the middle of it.

For a moment, actually several moments, it felt like a riot would start, but the true authorities moved in very quickly and moved everyone out.

They used police on horses, on mopeds, on feet, in cars, whatever it took.

And they did a great job.

After things settled, I spoke with one of the members of the NYPD, the one dressed in suit and tie, and I told him his people did an amazing job of being patient.

Which they did.

He said thanks, but then expressed that his fellow officers are the only ones that have not had a chance to grieve since 9/11 and that they were flat out exhausted.

The good news is there was no riot. 

Being right in the middle was quite an amazing experience and while I don’t share the passion of either side, I definitely respect the right that people have to voice their opinion.

I did not know anyone killed on September 11, 2001.

I did not live in New York at the time.

There is no way that I can truly connect with those that did.

But for one day, being surrounded by people who believe in something, even if its something that I may not believe in, was an experience that I won’t forget.

Living History

Denver Broncos wide receiver Ed McCaffrey broke his leg during a Monday Night Football game in early September 2001.

The all-pro and three-time Super Bowl champion would miss the rest of the season.

At about 7:00am Pacific Time, the next morning, I was woken up with a call from a very close friend and a huge fan of the Broncos.

He said turn on the TV.

I said what channel.

He said, “it doesn’t matter.”

It was September 11, 2001 and Ed McCaffrey, Monday Night Football and the Denver Broncos no longer mattered.

Like the rest of the country and the rest of the world, I spent the day watching TV.

Seeing, but not believing any of what I was seeing.

Living in Los Angeles at the time, I felt the pain as an American, but I certainly could not relate to what the people in New York were going through.

It was sad, devastating, horrific, scary, disgusting, alarming... any word you want to use, they all apply.

September 11, 2001 changed the world forever.

But living 3,000 miles to the west, there was no way I could comprehend what what life and death meant in Manhattan.

If this comes off the least bit insensitive, I sincerely apologize.

As a student of history, I am fascinated by the events that have shaped this country.

Unfortunately many times its the bad news that grabs our headlines.

My dad and I took a trip to Dallas, Texas when I was about nine years old.

We went to a Texas Rangers baseball game.   That was a given.

We also went to Elm Street.

THE Elm Street, where JFK was assassinated just 13 years earlier.

I will never forget visiting Pearl Harbor as a 14-year old on December 7, 1981.

Forty years to the day after our country was attacked.

It was a pure coincidence that we were in Hawaii on that exact date, but it only added to the significance.

When my family took a vacation to Hawaii a few years ago, I made sure to take time away from the beach to see it again.

My kids might have been too young to truly appreciate it, but there WILL come a day when they will remember it.

We took my daughter to a dance event at Robert Clement Park in Colorado a few years ago.

We parked in a lot within walking distance.

When I got out of the car I looked up and saw a sign that read, Columbine High School.

I could barely breathe.

I knew it was nearby, but I had no idea that we were actually there.

A few weeks later I took my kids back to Columbine, where we visited the Memorial area.

Each of us read each and every plaque, but never said a word until we got back to the car.

When I visited New York in the spring, I made a point to go down to Ground Zero.

When I got there, I saw... nothing.

Nothing but an area that appeared to be a construction site.

It was up to my imagination to connect with what I was really looking at.

And I could barely contain my emotions.

Now living in New York, on this, the 11th day of September, there is no way that I could avoid going back to where the World Trade Center once stood.

Just nine years ago.

Honestly I have no idea what I will see.