Where were you?
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3np0DMxXKzM
This glorious morning, ten years ago, I walked into Hardisty School, where I was teaching at the time. The hall lights were off. The middle school students sombre and whispering. Immediately I was filled with confusion, and then a sense of dread.
“Did you hear what happened, Mrs. Rodgers?” No, I had not. Usually, I was well briefed by the early morning news and radio enroute to school. But this day was too perfect. I left the news off at home, enjoying the sun and the silence.
On my way to work, I chose an instrumental CD of piano music by George Winston. I remember that distinctly as the sharp contrast to the ominous mood in the air, and then, moments after entering the building as I was late that morning (8:15 am) there was an audible gasp that rippled throughout the entire school. What was it? TV’s were on in classrooms. I ducked into one with everyone in the vacinity and the second plane had just gone into the second tower.
Hello, darkness, my old friend.
I found myself pulled into a vortex deep within my own being like I was being sucked into an infinite vacuum that was inside out.
The day was one of watching, and listening and debriefing. For some, it was the first time in their young lives where they really came to know – and much too soon, that everything was not going to be all right and that “we” cannot protect “you” from everything. And for most of us, it was an unfathomable and first-hand very-close-to-home account (even though I live on the Alberta prairies) of war on “home soil.” Close to home. And of hate.
The empathy that consumed me I truly tried to transmit and translate through the miles and atmosphere into the minds and hearts of those that needed the comfort that day and for these past years: by living bigger and better and bolder and warmer. With love.
And listening to people talking without speaking; people hearing without listening: listening to the sounds of silence.
I was working in Criminal Intelligence in the RCMP Headquarter that day. Let me tell you that when that happened we had lot’s of work to do. We had to query names etc. That was a busy time for us. A day that you can’t forget.
Helene!
Criminal Intelligence in the RCMP would be a very interesting place to be anytime – but I am sure that the day – and many many beyond were affected by this. Is this a story you can tell – one you would be allowed to tell? If it is, I encourage you to write about it, in depth. You were in a very unique position with a unique Canadian perspective. I, for one, would like to hear much more.
🙂
Valerie
At the time, I lived in the US and was trying to buy a plane ticket, and the lady on the phone was super distracted… I didn’t know why… finally she said I am sorry, something terrible is happening, please call later. I don’t have a TV so on my way to work, I listened to the radio, and it was the moment when people were relieved that they had found the third highjacked plane and it wasn’t going to New York (turned out it went to Washington). By the time I arrived at work, the whole school was chaos. I was teaching in an ESL school so all my students were trying to reach their families abroad, phones weren’t working, they were worried about their visas, their studies, their lives in the US… I don’t even remember if I taught that day. I wasn’t feeling good either but I had to take care of my students, which helped me go through the day. And within months, life became really difficult for all these poor international students (and for me, too, as I was also in the US on a visa).
Dr. CaSo!
What a story! And it is too brief. This sounds like a story you should really write in depth… maybe with a focus on one or two of your students and yourself… the fall out from catastrophes like this can never be underestimated. I am so sorry to hear about your situation and the difficulties it caused you, and those in your world.
Big hug,
Valerie
It’s such a different story being on the East Coast versus the West Coast. Like you, by the time we got up and out, things were already going on. It’s as if the day moved in slow motion.