By VERNA BROCK
Lately, my friends and I have been remarking upon how impossibly fast a quarter of a century rushes by. It seems like yesterday that we were anticipating that rare milestone, the turn of a millennium. I assure you, the years leading up to it crawled by in comparison to the whirlwind of the past 25 years.
This week, we commemorate another, more somber, 25th anniversary: the 9/11 attack that took 2,977 innocent lives in terrifying fashion. There are a handful of historical events that elicit a definite response when asked, “Where were you?… Where were you when President John Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Bobby Kennedy were assassinated… when Apollo 1 burst into flames… when the Challenger Space Shuttle exploded?”
We can vividly recall the moments of those shocking events if we experienced them. But for those of us who lived through 9/11, nothing compares to the disbelief and horror of that day and the days that followed. I clearly remember driving through Wacissa and Waukeenah on a gloriously crisp September morning, surrounded by crystalline blue skies that seemed to vibrate. I was on my way to work at the Jefferson County Public Library, with my radio tuned to the CBS Morning Show.
Suddenly Bryant Gumbal broke into the broadcast with a special announcement (those are never good news). A small plane was reported to have flown into one of the World Trade Center Towers. As I listened, the report quickly updated to a full-sized airliner, shortly followed by another airliner flown into the second tower just as I skidded up to the library.
As I blew through the front doors, I called for my staff to follow me upstairs. We crowded into the staff lounge and watched in disbelief as another airliner slid into the Pentagon and seemed to evaporate. This was shortly followed by yet another airliner ploughing headfirst into a field in Pennsylvania, thwarting a plan to destroy the Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. There were genuine heroes among us, there and at the other crash sites, and we watched with grief and pride. I was overwhelmed with the need to speak to my own parents and hear their voices, and I was not alone in that feeling.
Little was accomplished that day, as everyone, everywhere, basically sat glued to the unfolding nightmare on the screens before us. We at the library placed a television on the first floor, at the front of the building. People wandered in and out over the next few days to catch the unending coverage. It is safe to say we were all in a state of stunned shock for days following the attack.
It took months and years to determine the how, who and what of it all. What was once inconceivable became real, forever altering our nation’s reality. Even now, investigations continue, and first responders suffer health complications from breathing contaminated air from the wreckages 25 years ago.
So this 9/11, an unbelieveable 25 years later, take a moment to pause and absorb the significance of the day. Where were YOU? Share your memories with those among us who weren’t yet born, for whom the telling seems like ancient history, remote and detached from their truths. Let us try to convey to our children and grandchildren the gravity of this anniversary, and the importance of treating the remembrance with reverence.
For those keeping track and placing wagers, the inevitable lack of progress with the euphonium continues unabated. Perhaps there will be news next week. Frankly, I am waiting to see how long it can possibly drag out! Who has a clue?!