memory

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.

….

In Remembrance

….

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80 Years Young

In my family, we’re lucky enough to have what we would call the “old age” gene. I can only hope that I get the privilege of continuing the tradition.

Flora Henshue 80th birthday

You see, my great, great grandma (above circa 1970), Flora Henshue made it to 80 + years old, and so did my great grandfather Stanley (Flora’s son) and his wife, my great-grandma, Hattie Henshue.

1957 -Jeff Ihus, Stanley Henshue, Dennis Ihus
Great Grandpa, Stanley Henshue, my dad and my uncle – circa 1957.

So, why this walk down memory lane? Well, because today, my Grandma (Stanley and Hattie’s Daughter) turns the big Eight-Zero (80).

1950 - Bernadine Ihus, Gordon Ihus holding Dennis Ihus 1 month
My Grandmother at 20, My Grandfather holding my dad (1 month old), circa October 1950.

I can’t be there to wish my Grandma a happy birthday in person, so I’m sending a bunch of Roses, and very much love her way.

Humor me, please, and let me tell you a little bit about this amazing woman. Starting in the 1960’s, (and with 3 sons still at home) my grandmother was an assistant librarian at Marshall Jr High school. (Prior Jobs, she’ll proudly tell you, were working “sexing” baby chickens and as a secretary.) She retired from the Jr High in order to take care of my grandfather (who suffered from Parkinson’s Disease) for many years, until he went into a nursing home.

My grandmother is affectionately nick-named the family “social” butterfly. At 80 years old, she is more active than many women half her age. She goes to swim-aerobics twice a week at the YMCA, plays cards with her friends every week (hosted at a different person’s house), and is an avid baker, ceramics painter, and quilter (she even participates in a quilter’s group). She still lives at home (which she continues to aptly clean herself), and still drives her own car (offering to take her friends to the doctor’s in Madison – an hour away from where she lives) among other things. She helps to organize events at her church (visiting shut-ins, helping as an usher, cooking for bake sales, feeding the local needy, etc), and at the nursing home across the street from where she lives. She has a big collie dog to keep her “active” and even still finds time to take bus trips to “get out of town” for anywhere from a day to two weeks. (This month, she’s packing her bags to travel the 1000 miles down to Georgia to visit my dad – and will be there for a week.) In addition, she has traveled and seen a bit of the world (Unfortunately, after my grandfather passed on) including Germany, Austria, France, and Switzerland, as well as Canada and almost all of the 50 states in the USA.

Sometimes just hearing about all she does, and all the people she’s going here and there and everywhere with makes me exhausted – for her and myself. I always said if I could grow up and be half as active and have even a few friends like she does, I would be blessed many times over. I guess – I’m lucky to have such a “modern” woman as my 80 year old grandma to look up to. But then, if genes have anything to do with it, at 80, she could still be around for another 20 years – and not bat an eye. I certainly hope she is – because she is one of the many lights in my life.

A few great things I’ve learned from My Grandmother:

a) Do it while you can, and enjoy it. If you leave it until later, (whatever it is) someday, you may find you’re not able to do it anymore. (Knowing she lost my grandfather to Parkinson’s – in many ways – before they got to do all the things they planned to with their retirement – I think I really have taken this advice to heart.)
b) Sometimes the body has good days, sometimes the body has bad days. Listen to your Body and know when you should push yourself and when you should rest. My grandma goes constantly, but she also knows how to say “no”. I’m sure it’s taken her years to learn this – and it’s something that I still have trouble with, though I think I’m getting better.
c) Old age doesn’t mean you should sit in a rocker and stop living. When you stop moving, you stop using your mind, and stop TRYING to make a difference – then you grow old, you give up, and you die. So, don’t be like some of the older members of our family who decided at retirement that they’d had enough, pulled up their rocker and remote and just quit living. She’s proof that even small differences can make someone’s day. Oh – also, don’t be like those who worked themselves every day with no vacation – until the day they passed – because they didn’t take the time to enjoy the fruits of their labor.
d) Bad times come. It’s inevitable, and it’s Okay. But, it will all work out in the end. So, don’t give up – even when we make mistakes. Ride through them, learn, help others who will wind up in the same “rut” when you can, and rejoice that you have the bad times – because – if it weren’t for bad times, we wouldn’t recognize the good ones.
e) Finally, and most important – You’re NEVER too Old to Travel, to Learn, To Create, To Make New Friends, To Smile, To Laugh, or To Love.

So, Here’s to my Grandma, who turns 80 Years Young today –

Happy Birthday, Grandma – We Love You!

My dad's family
My Grandma and family, at her 78th Birthday Party – December 2006

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A New Record… ’UGH’ that didn’t need to be

On Thursday, after Amsterdam didn’t work out for the weekend, one of my co-workers, M, offered a day trip on Friday to go see a UNESCO world Heritage site called Goslar, Germany. It’s a midevil mining stronghold full of half timbered houses, a beautiful old fortified house where the German emperors held court in the 1000’s and right on the river.

Despite the potential for bad weather, we discussed it for the better part of Thursday. All told, we figured on 2.5 hours to get there, 2.5 hours to get back and a few hours wandering around. Initially, we were going to take the dog – but after hearing the weather forecast, I decided to leave him at home because it was supposed to rain/sleet/snow and M’s car didn’t need to smell like wet dog for the next 3 weeks.

So, on Friday, I woke up to a light dusting of snow – got everything ready, and thought hey, I’ll toss a couple apples in my bag. Just in case I get the munchies, after all, it’s going to be alot of walking. I was bundled up in a couple layers of clothes with my down coat, grabbed an umbrella and was sure to wear my waterproof boots. We left at 8am and made great time – an hour and a half – and then we decided to stop at another town on the way to Goslar – to see the town and another fortified house. (several of the towns including Goslar and the other one we stopped in are well over 1000 years old.)

We got to Goslar about 11 am, ate lunch and wandered around for a bit. Then, we went into the Emperor’s house and took the 3 pm tour. Once we were done there, we wandered back to the car (yes, I took another few hundred pictures – who do you think I am?!?)

We left around 5:30 pm. Hit the road, and it was sleeting – then snowing. And because we were trying to follow the signs, we wound up going on the wrong road – for about 35 minutes – headed toward hannover (north west) instead of toward Berlin (north east). After realizing what happened, well, we cut back across and hit the Autobahn and were stuck in and out of rain, sleet, and snow showers. M kept saying it’s slippery… and of course, it’s getting dark. Meanwhile, we’re going 120 km per hour (about 65 mph) and other cars are just flying past us. Not long after a car drove past going so fast to almost blow our doors off – I commented – you watch, he’s gonna slip, slide, and wind up in a ditch somewhere….

It’s funny how premonitions are, and even funnier how thankful I am for our little detour.

You see, our detour took us about 35 minutes out of the way and another 20 to cut back across. While that was happening, the sleet/rain/snow mix continued and hit just outside Magdeburg on the 2 Autobahn. We were running about 55 minutes behind where we should have been –

WHERE THERE WAS A 60 CAR PILEUP DUE TO BLACK ICE.

The result? We missed the black ice – and got stuck in the traffic trying to use the autobahn. We hit the slowing traffic about 6:25 pm or so – and were stopped stuck for nearly the next 3.5 hours. All we kept hearing on the traffic report was how bad it was, and that the traffic was backed up nearly 5 km (about 3 miles). Yeah, I admit that at some point, M and I got off and waited at the “rest stop” area (lord knows we could have just walked to it, taken a leak and walked back and not moved more than 5 feet). I also admit that we turned on the radio and I was so stir crazy that I started karaoke-ing to the songs on the radio – nearly all of them – from Sonny and Cher’s “I’ve got you babe” to the Police’s “I’ll be watching you”. Poor M, because not only was he being tortured by my singing (yes, include that horrible titanic song) but also by the fact that things weren’t going to plan – we’d planned on being back earlier so my dog could be let out; he could get some sleep and so on.

In the end, I got home about 1 am – opened the door – and the dog hadn’t made a mess – but he too had a new record – 18 hours with no potty. I will NOT do that again (poor baby) – because he literally pushed past me on the way outside as soon as I got the door open (I had expected that) and barely made it to the nearest bush. He’s SUCH A GOOD BOY! *gives him an extra hug, kiss, treat, loves, and thanks for his patience*

Also, speaking of records -for me, this was a new record for being stuck in a traffic jam – that didn’t have to be. 3.5 hours – before we turned off (we went north and took a route I’d scoped out by map while 98% of the traffic went south on the police planned route) out of traffic to take a detour and get back on a couple exits later.

The only brightsides – a) at least it wasn’t us caught in that mess – and b) I’m fairly certain that somewhere in that 60 car pileup – was that dark blue mercades that went whipping past us on the autobahn almost the same time as we made a wrong turn….

Ahh, Instant Karma.

PS – pictures posted soon – once I’m done posting those from Prague.

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