Say you’re sitting at a red light. You just stopped. You’re dutifully switching between podcasts on your IPHONE. Maybe answering that text from your boss. You’re minding your own damn business. Maybe the driver who is right behind you is distracted. Their dog got loose in the back. Maybe their kids are crying. Next thing you know, they are attached to your rear bumper. You are pushed past the red light into the middle of traffic. Your airbags deployed and you have that delightful little powder in your eyes. People are yelling, confusion has set in. You're reeling.
How the hell did that happen? That is what 9/11 felt like. It felt like an assassin had snuck in Metal Gear Solid (God I hope someone gets this reference) style and repelled from the ceiling and got you by the throat. It was a fleecing. People were absolutely rattled. This article is mostly for the Twenty-Three and younger crowd. The generation that was either not yet born, or simply too young to remember it. I was in 2nd period Home Economics class (Is That still a thing?) I still remember my teacher all these years later. She was always a complete basket case she would often cry if students got out of line. We would have contests to see who could make her crack first. They brought in a TV so we could watch ABC’s coverage of what was happening in New York. Nobody in the class had a smartphone. Twitter didn’t exist, or Instagram. The only way information flowed was through the news. Everyone had a theory. Maybe it was just an accident. Perhaps the pilots had a long night and fell asleep at the controls. When the second plane hit, I knew. America was under attack.
It was going to be a long day. Eventually we were dismissed around 10:30 or so on that Tuesday. My father, the Vietnam-era baby, who got weepy at the sight of an American flag, and virulent anti-communist, came and picked me up. He brought me home, and headed back to work, telling me the world is a dangerous place, and we as a country had gotten far too complacent. My favorite thing on earth at that time in my life was the Howard Stern Show which played on a station called WBCN in Boston at that time. The station, like Howard at the time kicked a plethora of ass. I turned it on immediately and followed Howard and the news throughout the day. He was mad as hell. So was I. My path was set. I knew I had to enlist in the United States military and do my job as an American.
This was my time. I was going to be like the dudes in the Eagles Nest from the 101st Airborne. I was going to be like the 3rd Ranger Battalion guys who jumped into Panama. My body was on fire. I could barely think. I told my dad that afternoon I wanted to enlist. My dad was a very flawed man but above all, he was a patriot. He immediately agreed to sign the paperwork. My mom god love her. Her birthday just passed. It was the fifth birthday in a row she missed, she died at age Fifty-One in 2017. She was very much against me enlisting, she did not talk to me for weeks. The paperwork was done on the 28th of September. I remember first visiting the recruiting station on 9/12. The line was like people waiting for tickets to the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. My god it was downright inspiring. The older men there, who’s lives were in order, dropping everything to enlist galvanized me.
I met software executives. I met State Street financial analysts. Stock brokers, Postal workers, and everything in between. Everyone who could, was answering the call. American flags strewn the streets. Random chants of U-S-A, U-S-A broke out randomly in the streets. People were being far nicer to their neighbors, and parents hugged their kids a bit longer, and far more often. I started to realize in those days after 9/11, my dad was right. I was living in the greatest country the world has ever known. Twenty years later, the world is much different. So am I. My career ended after Eighteen years in. I went to the belly of the beast many times. I walked the holy grounds in middle earth in which the terror attacks were first plotted. I fought against bad guys on the streets of Afghanistan. No hero stuff here. Feels like another life now. I am much greyer, and a little chubbier now.
You're likely to find me rooting on my 7-year- old at the soccer fields than behind a weapon system. I want to tell you the same thing I tell my 2 young sons: I would never, ever want to see another 9/11, or live through it. However, 9/12 was absolutely amazing. We rallied behind each other. Our first responders, even our politicians. It was absolutely beautiful. Everybody was rooting for the home team. If I was smart enough. I would have locked that time up in a little capsule, converted it and injected it straight into my veins whenever I start to feel a bit dragged down by today’s events. This is not about todays events however. It’s a happy piece. It’s about the greatest country in the world’s citizens coming together to pick each other up. It so damn inspiring, we need more of it. Damn, 9/12 was amazing.
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