September 11, ten years out

Ten years ago today I road to work with my friend Gailen Christenson. We lived less than a mile apart and both worked at the law firm Middleberg, Riddle and Gianna. It was her week to drive. We were in her big, bright yellow truck.

Gailen preferred rap and I preferred opera so we road to work without the radio on and just chatted. She was excited because her son was coming home from his two weeks National Guard training in the Middle East that day. He was flying into the Northeast, then would change flights in Boston and come home to New Orleans.

When we got up to the 41st floor of the Place St. Charles we were met by somber members of the firm crowded around a little television. One of the towers of the World Trade Center had been hit, we stood there helplessly and watched the second plane crash into the other tower.

We drifted back and forth between getting our work done and watching the news about the strike at the Pentagon and the downed plane in Pennsylvania. Some wanted to go home because we were in a vulnerable building. I knew that just across the river was Alvin Calender Fields, the Naval Air Station, the pilots were watching over the city. We would occasionally see a jet zooming around the downtown area. Any plane would be shot down if the air space was breached.

I knew this because my dad had been one of those pilots when I was growing up. Part of his job had been to track hijacked airplanes to Cuba. If the planes veered from their course he had orders to shoot them down. I felt safe knowing the pilots were out there.

Gailen was frantic that day. She could not find her son. Finally, toward the end of the day she heard from him. He was okay but it would be days before he would be able to fly into New Orleans.

We drove home with the radio on that evening listening to the constant coverage of the horrific events of the day. My family's nightmare was not over. My husband's brother had recently transferred to a job in the Pentagon. We talked to his wife Tricia. She was inconsolable. She had heard nothing and phone service to the Pentagon was not functioning.

Tricia and Larry Beach had only recently moved to Alexandria, Virginia from Denver, Colorado. Tricia did not know anyone and she was not near her support system. We kept in contact with her but also had to keep the lines free so she could hear from Larry.

As it turned out Larry's office was in the section of the Pentagon that was hit. Luckily, the powers that be were remodeling part of that area, his office among them. Larry was on the other side of the Pentagon but walking to the area of his office for a meeting. He saw the plane hit but was one of the lucky ones able to live and tell about it.

Larry was finally able to get in touch with Tricia late the evening of September 11. We were able to talk with him the next day, Larry's birthday.

The next day I got a frantic call from Italy. One of the three attorney's I worked for was stuck in Rome on his honeymoon. He called often for news of the flight stoppage and to find out how we were all holding up. He said the people of Rome were very compassionate and made sure he and his bride were nurtured when so far from home during such a tragedy.

Seven degrees of separation, just about everyone in the world new someone that lost a life or a loved one that day. One of the girls at the law firm I had worked for before Middleberg lost her husband in the towers. She was pregnant at the time.

Today at noon we have been asked to observe a moment of silence for all that were lost on September 11. At 1 p.m. KVRE will run a special salute with the stories of two Villagers Major Generals Tom Arwood and Bill Lefler. The stories are touching and poignant, as are all of the tales of that day.