Once upon a time, not so long ago, you could ask anyone that question and they would immediately know what you were talking about.
Where were you?
Now you would probably get an answer of, "When?"
Where were you?
I was home in bed, because it was my day off. I had nothing more planned than to wash my hair, check my email, watch a little tv.
I watched a lot of tv that day.
I don't know that I ever washed my hair.
I was sound asleep when I got the call. It was my friend Jen. I was surprised she was up that early. I answered the phone, "Hey." She was crying. She said, "Turn on the tv." I asked, "What channel?"
She said, "It doesn't matter."
I went to the living room and turned on the tv. There was smoke, fire, falling debris. (Later there were falling bodies.)
I collapsed on the floor and told Jen I call her back later.
I watched in horror, trying to comprehend what I was seeing. Then the second plane hit.
Where were you?
I called my mom and then both of my brothers. I prayed for the victims and the soon to be victims.
I prayed for their families.
I prayed for the responders.
I prayed thanks that I didn't know anyone in New York.
Or Virginia.
Or Pennsylvania.
Or even DC.
I found myself repeating, "Oh God, oh God, oh God" over and over, which I suppose was a kind of prayer in itself.
Where were you?
Due to my profession, I have, perhaps, a slightly different take on the whole scene. I kept thinking, and still think, of the 911 operators in those areas. I can't imagine the chaos of their call centers. I know what it's like around here when we "just" get a big car accident, an ice storm, the rare tornado. It's unbelievable how many calls we get, "just" for those things.
How many of those 911 operators wanted to leave and flee to their homes to be with their families? Every single one of them, I'll bet you. But they held their posts and did their jobs.
I can't imagine.
In my ten years on the job, I have had to stay on the phone and comfort the sad, the sick, the lost and the dying. How torn those 911 people must have been, between staying on the line for those who desperately wanted someone to talk to, and getting off the line to try and help the next of hundreds of thousands that were calling in.
How hard it must have been, to take call after call from not only victims, but citizens, and family members who were terrified, but from those who must have know they were going to die, or were already dying.
I can't imagine.
Where were you?
Today is September 11.
9/11.
In law enforcement, it has traditionally been a day to honor emergency personnel all over the country. It still is.
But honestly, my heart's not in it. I just don't care about the new shirts. Or the food brought in for us. Or some mucky-muck from the County Commissioner's office that may or may not come by.
I'm not so focused on 911 as much as I am 9/11.
I see pictures from that day and my heart's still in my throat.
Why have so many forgotten what that day was like? There are those arguments about putting a mosque near Ground Zero. Too many people think that's okay. Really? Don't you realize they are wanting to do that just to make us mad? To make us argue with each other and divide us? Sad that it's working so well.
Personally, I think they should have left the rubble.
I'm sick to death of hearing that we need to practice peace, love and understanding. I think we need to practice some serious ass-kicking. I think we need to be reminded, on a daily basis, that there are those who want to kill us just because we are Americans. Those that would nuke this whole country off the face of the planet if they could.
We need to remember.
Every single day.
We need to remember who we are.
Where we are.
Where we were.
Where were you?
