In Remembrance … 10 years ago today

It’s still painful, even 10 years later. I still have nightmares, 10 years later. Just watching the commercials on all the TV channels here in Ireland for the last 10 days have brought me to tears, caused me to change the channel and woken me up at night – recalling a day which is still burned vividly in my memory. These commercials are poking a place in my soul that has healed and yet I find the scar tissue is still painful, perhaps more so this year because of the media circus surrounding the anniversary. I know, I couldn’t prevent what happened. I couldn’t predict how I would be affected or how I would react even 10 years later. At the time, I just knew it was a day that I was trained for, qualified for, and I had to do my job – to do something while others were doing nothing but being glued to the TV.

As I write this, tears stream down my face. I’m over tired, stayed up too late watching movies trying to avoid as much of today as possible. Let me sleep late, I thought. Let me get past the “magic hour”, I thought. But no, I was woken up this morning (went to bed at 3 AM), at 7:45 AM by a commercial jet flying over my house. It happens every day, several times a day because I leave near the airport, in the flight path. I hear it constantly, but this morning, it was different in my own mind. My breath caught in my throat as I gazed out the bedroom window, dog peering outside, needing to go out. Here we go, I thought. 10 years. Halfway around the world, and I STILL wake up 10 years to the minute, with a sense of dread. It’s going to be a long day.

I didn’t want to write a blog post about this, because this was a personal experience for so many people. I just wanted to quietly remember because I think we all experienced September 11, 2001 in our own way. It was a horrible day, a shocking day, a Day where I heard the words “OH MY GOD” uttered in awe by those around the world – because there was nothing more to say – as we watched, we all sent up pleas of mercy to a higher power (Whether we believe in God or not) for those in the towers, at the pentagon, on the flights, and on the ground. There was nothing more to say.

Let’s rewind 10 years, to September 11, 2001 8:44 AM Eastern Time (6:44 AM Mountain), in the US. I was 25. I had already lived in Russia, I’d lived in New York among other places, and finally settled in Utah. At the time, I was working for eBay, volunteering on the Emergency Disaster response crew for the American Red Cross. I had volunteered in the last few years for a series of floods, the Salt Lake Tornado, house fires, apartment fires, and put together packages for hurricane victims. I had worked previously dispatching Emergency calls for my local 911, and my Emergency Dispatcher’s license was still valid – until the end of the year. It meant that if a major disaster struck, I was required to report as a first responder, because I was trained.

8:46 AM Eastern time / 6:46 AM Mountain time – I was working graveyard shift, answering gold power seller emails and the occasional phone call, and supposed to get off work in 15 minutes. We had a radio sitting in the pod between my Desk and Phil’s – we had been listing to the Baseball game and then Art Bell on CoasttoCoast AM before the morning news radio show began chattering away. The Radio made the shifts go faster.

The first that I heard of flight 11 crashing into the Trade Center was on the radio. They just mentioned that a Plane had crashed into the world trade center, nothing more. It was unclear what size the plane was, and was quite literally a one line “blip”. I looked at Phil as he said “that’s not good”, and I replied with it’s happened before – a plane crashed into the Empire State building back in the day – when there was really bad weather – before modern instruments. It’s September, so it’s possible that in Manhattan the weather was crap or foggy or something or that the plane was having issues. There’s lots of sky scrapers on the island, if the plane were having problems it wouldn’t be hard to accidentally hit a building.

Wishful thinking.

Being resourceful, several folks hopped on the internet and queried for the NY weather, only to find it was clear. Then someone said that the NY media were reporting that it was a passenger plane – before flipping on the TV in the break room, to watch one of the large morning TV shows. As I recall, it was Good Morning America, and we could hear it from our desks.

A few minutes later, at 9:03 AM Eastern time /7:03 AM Mountain, I had packed up my stuff, clocked out and was looking in my purse for my keys while saying goodbye and updating my co-workers who had arrived for the day shift. In horror, one of my newly arrived work colleagues spun around in his chair and said “Guys, another plane just hit the other Tower – I think we’re under attack. ”

This prompted a semi-foot race to the break room, where several people all stood in awe watching the repeat film footage of the second plane hitting the World Trade center. To myself, I remember thinking “I knew this day would come, and it’s not over yet. ”

I decided that I was going to get on the road – because I wanted to head home before rush hour hit. From our office, we could see the freeway – and I-15 was jam packed. As a result, I took a different way home – side streets – up 700 East to 900 East – listening to the radio – the local morning news had now flipped over to a live feed from CNN, who was stating that the planes were hijacked before hitting. At that moment, I knew it was time to report to the volunteer station – and to the local emergency responder’s office – because being trained and licensed, I had to even if this was happening in New York.

I popped by my house, called my parents and let them know that if they couldn’t reach me, not to worry. I grabbed some extra clothes and munchies from the condo and put them into a bag (just in case), with the TV going in the background. They were talking about how the Sears Tower in Chicago was being evacuated, as were most skyscrapers in each major city. The local news mentioned that the taller buildings and state houses were being evacuated “as a precaution” in Salt Lake City, and how all first responders were being recalled. I remember thinking “no shit, dude. The first responders already knew that, but thanks for comforting the public.” As I was still on the phone with my mom, the first of the towers – 9:59 AM Eastern (7:59 AM Mountain)- the south tower – disintegrated before my eyes, and I knew this was really bad – because the North Tower wasn’t looking very good either.

I called the emergency responder’s number, and then was told to head over to the Red Cross office. By 8:15 AM Mountain time (10:15 AM Eastern) I made it just inside to reception, showing my disaster volunteer’s badge and as I watched, they locked the doors behind me, in a panic, saying NO ONE ELSE GETS IN. The person running the place, security, and receptionist were afraid that someone would come in and do something to the 5 story building – and had sent all non essential people home. (As I recall, there was a lot of panic and irrational thought at the time because of so little knowledge of what was happening where.)

Me, they kept, as a volunteer, because of my emergency dispatcher’s license and Prior Disaster Volunteer experience. It was then that I was told by the Disaster co-ordinator that there was at least 1 if not 2 more aircraft that could not be located, and were feared hijacked because they weren’t responding to the radio (At the time, it wasn’t public knowledge) and that the government were talking about grounding all planes. She also said that some fighter jets had been scrambled.

I was put on the phones, with one other volunteer, in the basement, in a tiny beige cubicle, with a stack of red cross disaster missing persons forms, where I would remain for the next 10 hours answering calls. Why? Because the 1800 phone number for the Red Cross for missing persons being given out in NYC was redirected to other non “local” offices to answer. The Red Cross were in charge of the Disaster Emergency shelters, they were in charge of compiling lists of people that were going to be in the hospitals (at the time, we still had hope there would be survivors and I hadn’t seen the video footage) and were serving as a co-ordination point for locating / relocating people living in the area.

It was in this tiny cubicle that I was told about the second tower’s collapse, about the Pentagon being hit, and about Flight 93 crashing into a field in Pennsylvania, all in between calls. It was also in the cubicle where I answered calls from family of those in the North and South Towers (and the general area of the WTC plaza)and at the Pentagon and was providing the location of the shelters in the area. And it was here, where I learned that all flights were to be grounded through the end of the week.

By the time I left the red cross, I was running on pure adrenaline. I had been awake for ~24 hours, and as I got home, I flipped on the TV for the 10PM news – only to be bombarded by he images of what had happened while I was answering the phones.

It was then that I realized that we weren’t going to find many, if any, alive. I grabbed a bite to eat, took a half hour nap, and then went to work 8 hours at eBay, pausing for a 1 hour nap during my lunch break. The next day,Wednesday, I got off work at 7 AM, napped for an hour, and then went back to the Red Cross for 10 AM, where I was put back on the phones for another 12 hours because I had Thursday the 13th off.

The thing is that by Wednesday night, we pretty well knew those that were going to be found had been. The fires were still burning, and as I was told later by one of my firefighter friends who works Search & Rescue, if you’ve ever seen a hammer hit an ant, there is no ant left for recovery.. it’s just parts (an analogy that sticks with me even today). Through Thursday, we were simply answering calls for recovery and couldn’t tell the families that their loved ones were most likely not going to be recovered.

All told, I volunteered 3 days with the red cross, and I hope I made a difference for the people calling in. I was awake for some 46 hours with but naps in between in the first two days. To this day, even 10 years later, I can remember those calls as vividly as it was yesterday.The tears, the panic, the what am I going to do, the Please find so and so…

I can remember the names, and in some cases, I can put the faces and the names together.They are burned into my memory by each person who I talked to. It was more than just a horror watched on TV, it was happening live, to real people, that I was talking to, who were 2000 miles away.

The thing is, that for me, despite that being painful, it’s not the people that were in the buildings working, who are more sore. For me, it’s the emergency responders. The Dispatchers, Police, Firefighters, and Ambulance workers. Because I had been a Dispatcher, because I had worked with the same guys in Salt Lake, and but for the Grace of God, a September Day, and a city 2000 miles away … it could have been any of “my boys”. Once an emergency responder, always an emergency responder – a fraternity born in stress and life changing events – for those who prefer to Do Something rather than Do Nothing – even if it means giving up their lives for others.

Some may call it being a Hero, but for them, it’s a higher calling. This is why when you ask people what they do for a living – they ARE their job (eg. I am a Police officer, I am a Firefighter…) and not just “I build websites…, I do technical support… I construct houses…” or whatever. This is a subtle difference, but this fine point is what separates those who Run TOWARD the disaster, and those who Run Away from it.

This is what I remember from September 11, 2001, and the days following. This is what I did, how I experienced it, and why I can’t watch the media circus coverage. For me, it’s still too soon. Maybe it will always be.

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In Remembrance

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Hill of Tara

(The Hill of Tara with Stone of Destiny in the Distance)

Over the last few months, I’ve been very busy and had some great friends and family over to visit me here in Ireland. This has resulted in me doing some touristy stuff (I bought a little 700 euro car) and exploring Ireland near where I live. In the last month and a half, I’ve been to the Hill of Tara twice, and might I just say it’s well worth a visit – especially because it’s free admission and what I would call an endangered site because people just roam all over it.

(ground level view)

From Far away, the Hill of Tara doesn’t look like much. If you didn’t know it was there, other than a brown sign on the side of the road saying “Hill of Tara” with an arrow to the exit, you’d not know it was there. The entire thing is located off the new M3 motorway (controversial because they didn’t do any archaeology before putting the new traffic lanes only a couple miles from the structure), then down a narrow 1.5 car lane wide country road lined with shoulder high rock walls. When you get there, there’s a line of cars parked on the side of the road (tight squeeze to get past them), a 20 car parking area, and at a tiny pub and a tourist office at the end. The majority of local inhabitants are sheep, cows, and horses – and a handful of locals trying to make a buck to support the local economy. Getting out of the car, You have to walk up a blue gravel pathway and through a cow gate and then around and/or over several steep random mounds.

(The great banqueting long hall remains)

Essentially, It’s a huge green pasture with what looks like lumps and bumps of unplowed and overgrown mounds that are great fun for the kids to play on (running up and down, racing dirt bikes, and so on). To the un-knowing these mounds look almost like someone took a bulldozer and some dump trucks and piled up dirt for some sort of construction site that was never completed.

(The Stone of Destiny on the top of the Royal Seat “mound”)

To those in the know, you can see the remains of a long storied Irish history. When viewed from above, you can see that the mounds make two giant “ring forts” for protection, along with one extremely long single halled building used primarily for banqueting. It was from this site that the Iron Age (500 AD) Celtic kings of Ireland ruled their domain for over 1000 years. It was a place not only of celebration of the Celtic religion but also assembly place and burial place for over 140 ancient kings. There are over 30 monuments on the site itself and most date over a period of 4000 years – between 3500 BC – around 700 AD.

(Mound of the Hostages – outside)

(Mound of the Hostages – inside through the barred gate)

According to Legend, this the home to the Celtic Goddess Maeve (kings here had to drink spiced ale and symbolically marry her to gain the king ship) and possesses not just one but Two Fairy trees (where one comes to communicate and present offerings to the fairies), but also here was the place that St. Patrick (the patron saint of Ireland) had his victory over the Celtic King Laoghaire in the 5th Century.

(Two Fairy Trees decorated with offerings and wishes)

Because of the forced conversion of the populace to Christianity, there is, naturally, a Church with old cemetery overlapping part of these ancient Ring Ruins. The church, naturally, is named St. Patricks, and is now dis-used.

(St. Patrick’s Church on the Hill of Tara)

I have to say that I really enjoyed my time exploring this historic site where thousands of years of Irish history cross – from the ancients, to the Celts, to the Christians digging into sacred Pagan ground to bury their dead. It really makes one pause and think about beliefs and preservation – and even more so when you see children playing and sheep grazing on this once holy site. But, as one day sets, another begins – and time moves on for us – and yet stands still at Tara.

Celtic Cemetery stone & Tree at hill of Tara

(St. Patrick’s Cemetery with Celtic style Cross and the edge of the mounds at the Hill of Tara)

Leprechaun Museum Trip

I like living in Dublin. It’s a new city, and that means all kinds of new things to explore and do. When I can get a discount like I did last month from one of the online deals websites, I tend to jump at the chance to go out and explore my new home a little bit more. One of the more recent daily deals was for the National Leprechaun Museum, for half price.

Waiting to get into the museum

The thing is that I had 2 tickets, but I thought this might be the perfect opportunity to “borrow” my friend’s daughter (and give her parents a weekend sleep in) and her honorary uncle, and make a day of adventure for us all. Thus, I made some arrangements to meet at 10 am, take the intelligent Munchkin to the city to see the “little people”, have some lunch, and then visit the candy shop as a set of three people. I had a great time – and so did they. The Leprechaun Museum, in my opinion, is much much better with a child because they still have the innocence to enjoy the story telling.

We got there and were the last ones on the tour. The museum itself isn’t very big – it took about an hour to go through from start to finish. Through most of the museum, you’re accompanied by a story teller, who tells the stories of Ireland – this includes legends of the Leprechaun, tales of the Salmon of Wisdom, Banshee, and those are just the ones I remember. In the beginning, our tour guide told us how Leprechauns have changed their look – it used to be that their hats were red – the red gave them the “magic” powers. They actually looked more like the Gnomes of Germany, to me. As she told us the tale, she pointed us to a tunnel – where we got to enter the magical (Abstract) world of the Leprechauns.

From there, we were taken to a wooden abstract representation of the Giant’s Causeway, which was almost like a maze, full of things too small for me as an adult to climb on, but for the kid – exciting to climb up and perch, wander through and hide, and even look through for a different view above the museum rooms.

Once we found our way out, the next room we entered was the Giant’s room. Everything in here was 3 times bigger than normal size. The dining table and chairs, the easy chair, lamp, and easy chair. The giant coffee cup. A huge set of dresser drawers. For adults, it’s like being a kid again. For the kids, well, it’s extra big and makes for tons of laughter and delight.

From this room, the munchkin raced along forward and hit a hallway filled with the legend of the red socks. I read it to her and a few of the other children about the place as we walked along the hallway. The summary of the story was that there was a leprechaun who got caught by a man. Knowing that once caught, Leprechauns have to give their gold over to the one who caught them, the man was delighted. He kept his eyes on the sneaky Leprechaun and forced it to lead him to the gold. The Leprechaun led the man to a grove of trees, and pointed out where the gold was buried. Not having a spade handy, the man took off his red sock and tied it to the tree, letting the Leprechaun go. Then, he headed home to get something dig up and carry the gold with. When he returned, he found that all the trees had red socks tied to them. The result was that he decided there were too many trees with socks, and it would take too long to find the gold again. (It’s supposed to illustrate how tricky the Leprechaun are.)As we rounded the final corner, we were in a room filled with black trees and red socks – and on the walls there was a creative use of mirrors that made the room feel bigger than it was.

From there, we walked through a few rooms with an Irish map, some Mythical Irish place names.. and on the ceiling were a series of umbrellas:

As we left this room, and went into the next, we walked through an Irish Rainbow …

And found ourselves looking at the pot of gold:

Another tale was told, and we headed into the final rooms, filled with a wishing well to make a wish in and and plenty more legends to think about on the way to Mc Donald’s for lunch, and then to the candy shop for a cupcake and candy.

Making a Wish

Two thoughts on the Leprechaun museum – 1) Go early and try to go during the week. If you can’t get in on one of the tours, it’s about an hour or two wait for the next tour. 2) Take a child. It’s so much more delightful as they discover the legends and race from room to room with excitement.

Phoenix Rose's Blog

The Chronicles of a Girl, Her Dog, and a Lifelong Journey…

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In Remembrance … 10 years ago today

Hill of Tara

Leprechaun Museum Trip