Tiny Words

My intentions for yesterday were to blog about the fashion phenomenon that has taken over in my neighborhood, more specifically with the women over 55.  That will just have to wait though because something else more important came along.

I wasn’t going to blog about September 11 because there just don’t seem words to express the feelings that people have about that day.  I have come to feel that it is such a mixed bag of emotions when I see old news coverage from that morning 12 years ago or when I read stories about the families of those left behind.  There is sheer terror and panic, I remember that feeling so well.  I remember on that morning I was eating breakfast, a bowl of cereal….something with flakes and I was going to just watch a smidge of the news to see the weather.  I saw no weather report that morning and looking back, I have absolutely no idea what the weather was like that day.

It was all so confusing and scary and no one seemed to know what was going on….but help was on the way.

And then the second plane hit.

It was my senior year of college and I was an education major.  I don’t remember if classes were cancelled or not, but somehow, everyone in my Methods class eventually stumbled in.  We had no where else that we knew to go.  It’s ironic, all of these young, eager beaver teachers sat that day with scared, wide eyes looking to our professor to tell us that it was all going to be okay.  I don’t remember us saying a word or really doing anything, except sitting there

Together

Almost too scared to go anywhere else.

I slept at my brother and sister in laws house that night.  Right smack between them in their bed and I very distinctly remember the sandwich we made.  All 3 of us huddled together, holding each other.

I was 2 weeks shy of 21 and in less than a month, I would be engaged.

But that night I curled up as close as I could to my big brother, I squeezed my eyes as tight as I possibly could and he held me so that I almost couldn’t breath.

That day I wished more than anything that I wasn’t a grown up and this wasn’t the world I was headed out into.

But those were just my initial feelings and I know so many more, SO MANY MORE, have much more horrific memories.  My words and thoughts seemed too small for such a monumental anniversary.

But then on the way to pick up Mattie, we drove by Station No 21 and saw the 343 little American flags planted in the front yard.  One flag for each fireman or paramedic who died that day, and their flag flying at half mast.

Standing amongst the flags

I had to stop.

Last year we took them cupcakes.  A simple, sugary gesture just to let them know that we appreciated their willingness to protect us.  This year, we had no baked goods.  But I stopped just the same and got all 3 of the kids out.  We paraded up to the station door, which had been propped open, I guess we weren’t the only visitors they had yesterday……and I proceeded to tell them that we had nothing for them, except hugs and thank you’s.

No, these particular men and woman were not in New York that day, but everyday here in Memphis, they get up and go to work with no idea what might be in store for them.  The bell rings and they go with no idea where exactly they are going and what lies ahead.  They have come to our house a few times, and probably had a funny story to take back to the hall, but they still came….within seconds.

I told them that we had no goodies, but they said more than anything, could we sit down and have a cookie with them…..as they had tons.  So we sat and ate some cookies and hugged some strangers….and I tried not to cry.

We got back out to our car and Mattie asked me why I always get cry-y when we go to the fire station on this day ( we go every year).  And I told her, in the best way I could, because I think she’s old enough to hear it.

That on that day, I was more scared than I have ever been in my life.  Though I was where I was supposed to be, I felt completely lost and was terrified to go anywhere.  Everything that seemed normal and safe before, was suddenly not.  I told her that I hoped she never, ever had a day like that in her life…..while silently praying for when that day does come because with everything going on in the world, it can’t be too far away…..but for me and so many others, it is a day that we still have nightmares about.

But not only that, I get all cry-y because my daddy does that same job that those firemen and paramedics in New York did.  I try not to think about it all that much, but my daddy goes to work every day, not to sit at a desk or see patients or teach people, but to come when they are in danger.  When the bell goes off for him at his work, he never knows what he is headed to….but he still goes.

And that makes me very scared, but also very proud of my daddy.

The tears came rather profusely then.

And I told her that every person in that room that we were just in would be willing to die if it meant saving her.  If our house was on fire and they knew the only way to rescue her was for them to not make it out, they would still come in and get her.

And to that, Mattie Belle Baughman said that our rescue people deserve WAY more than just cookies and cupcakes as a thank you. I couldn’t agree more Mattie Belle, I couldn’t agree more.

She was also a little upset by the whole idea of people attacking other people, which is clearly understandable, so I did what any other mom would do……I borrowed a line from Mr. Rogers.

When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” To this day, especially in times of “disaster,” I remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world.”

I pray that my children, though they live in a scary world, hardly the world that I would have hoped for them, will choose to be helpers.  That they will look at the natural disasters, the hate, the wars and the destruction around them and instead of becoming hardened and angry, or depressed or scared…I pray that they will be part of the helpers.  And you are never too young or too little to be of some help.

I like to think even little Lila was of some “help” to the heroes we visited yesterday.

Posing with some of Memphis’s finest. Lila was not mad at him, I had just taken one of her cookies from her.

My words are small, pale and inadequate….but I wanted to share anyway.  If nothing else, to say that I am proud of the city I live in, I am proud of my country and its heart and bravery, and I am incredibly proud of my father and the other fathers and mothers who risk their lives every day to keep us all safe.

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