By Linda Grupp Boutin
We watch history unfold before our eyes every day. The very
first historical day I remember with clarity was a November day, crisp and cool
despite the sunshine bathing all around me. We were summoned from our 3rd
grade classroom to the playground where we held all-school assemblies. The
principal told us that we were being excused early that day because the
President had been shot in Dallas. From that moment until JFK was buried, we
joined the rest of the country first praying he would be okay, then mourning
the loss together, finally admiring his son saluting the casket of our fallen
leader.
My parents had required we watch as rockets left the earth
and allowed us to watch history unfold as witnesses to a presidential
assassination. That wasn’t the only assassination I saw, there was the time
George Wallace was shot—hit by a bullet and confined to a wheelchair for life.
We lost Martin Luther King and I was watching the night RFK took a bullet. It
seemed to me that a public life could be a very dangerous thing.
There had been
a Cuban Missile crisis that I could not understand except that my mom was
terrified for my brothers in the US Marines. We prayed for their safety. Many
young men I knew dreaded turning 18 and being forced to sign-up for the draft.
My sister’s husband received a high number and we tracked the Vietnam War
nightly on the TV.
I understood nothing was assured on this earth, but though
traumatic, these events seemed distant, rarely touching me on a personal level.
Events paraded through my life, Apollo space capsule fires, earthquakes,
floods, tornados. I watched when the shuttle exploded just after liftoff
killing all aboard. I knew this world to be dangerous.
So when 9/11/01 rolled around, though the world certainly
wasn’t safe, I never expected the day to unfold as it did. I woke to my dog
curled behind my knees a bit earlier than normal. I switched on the news to
watch The Today Show and was shocked into full alert. A huge fire burned in New
York City and it took a few minutes to realize a plane had crashed into one of
the Twin Towers. I woke Gary and he joined me just in time for us to witness
the second plane crashing into the second tower.
Time entered a strange warp with us consuming every detail
as it was reported by CNN. Another plane crashed into the Pentagon, they
grounded all flights, President Bush came on the air to help the country cope,
Washington DC was evacuated, another plane crashed in a field. About then the
phone rang and Gary’s interview for a computer job was cancelled; the company
had been headquartered in the now melted Twin Towers. My boss at the library
called and said we would not open that day and to stay home. We stared at one
another in horror, how could this have happened? We heard commentators begin to
whisper about terrorism and the pieces began to fall into place.
Nervous energy compelled us to do something, anything to try
and cope. We decided to go and stock up at Costco and when we arrived at the
store it was evident we were not the only ones to think this way. We put
everything away and wondered what to do next. I wanted to go to church, but
didn’t want to leave the news feed. Praying silently I petted my dog and tried
not to imagine how many were in the destroyed buildings. Gary could not sit
still anymore and pulled out a square canvas he had built.
I watched fascinated as he took a pencil and string and drew
concentric circles on the canvas. The company he had hoped to work for never
recovered. Eventually the library reopened, but they kept the TV on every
moment they were open monitoring the level of alert the country was in. Not
quite willing to accept that another attack was not imminent. CVCC contacted the
congregation inviting us to attend all church prayer. Shell-shocked and
stunned, I can’t remember anything about the service though I seem to remember
we went.
Days passed by and Gary’s pristine white canvas filled with
images and colors. The circles remained but filled with red and white, the
center turned blue, the exterior of the circle orange and black. Stars filled
the field of blue, the largest centered on the canvas. The damaged towers
rose again to the right with a US flag filling the opposite side. A strange,
dark earth appeared at the bottom covered with an equally dark hand. Fireman
and helicopters appeared near the towers, the first responders coming to the
rescue. Finally a snake wound its way down from the top, threatening but not
overcoming the red, white and blue…
A picture can say 1,000 words, but this one says so much
more to me. It says keep the faith, better days can come if we join together
and strive to repair after an attack. Thirteen little colonies joined together
to defeat the pre-eminent world power of that day. Shortly thereafter, the
fledgling country had to reinforce the lesson of freedom. Smaller wars came and
went, older countries decided they wanted freedom too following our footsteps,
and Civil War tore us to shreds only to come back together in unity to free the
enslaved and give all an equal chance. When we come together in unity with our
community, we are the strongest country in the world. Let’s all join together
and rebuild our country again today, overcoming as we did in the Great
Depression. We can do it all again, if we choose to join one another and try.
