Remembering

I was making pancakes this morning, and I dropped the measuring cup after I had dumped the flour into the bowl. A thin coating of flour settled all over the top of my stove. I muttered under my breath as I wet a paper towel and started wiping up my mess.

But I couldn't help thinking about how small my mess was compared to the mess left by the huge dense clouds of smoke and dust that blew away from the World Trade Center towers on Sept. 11, 2001. Everybody knows about the police, EMS and firefighters who risked (and lost) their lives trying to save people. And most people know about the construction crews who dealt with the twisted steel left at ground zero.

But this morning, I was thinking about the people who had to go in clean up all the other stuff. The people who had to clear out all the paper and other stuff that flew out of those buildings. And that thick layer of dust and smoke that settled on everything in sight. I can't imagine what those people had to see and smell and how long it must have taken them to get everything back to its original state. It's funny the things you think about.

I was asleep when the planes hit the buildings. I was working on the night copydesk, which meant I wouldn't have gone to bed until about 3 a.m. on Sept. 11. So at 8:46 a.m. that morning, I had been asleep for about 5 hours, with a few more hours to go.

I got a phone call from a friend of mine who told me what was going on. I got up, went downstairs and watched the TV coverage. It seemed unreal, like I was watching a movie.

I don't remember what emotions I was feeling that morning. After working for years at hospitals, then newspapers, the process of dealing with disasters in my head might sound a little harsh, but it starts with, "Okay, what do we need to do." I tend to have a hard time dealing with the feelings and emotions of what's going on at the time because I've spent many years in jobs where you had to set aside your feelings to take care of business.

I had that very conversation with a friend of mine last week. Over dinner, we were discussing her new job. She deals with serious situations on a daily basis. One of her younger co-workers was pretty upset over something that happened at work, and my friend was concerned because she wasn't upset. She asked me if I thought she was cold-hearted. I laughed at her because I've had that thought a thousand times before about myself.

The evening of Sept. 11, 2001, I designed the Sept. 12 front page. Normally, you get a list of stories and photos that will be on the page, and you set about creating the page. That night, I had at least six people over my shoulder for pretty much the whole night. It was a little unnerving. We sorted through the many, many photos from that day of the buildings, the dust-coated faces of the people on Manhattan streets, the people who saw no other choice but to jump from the buildings, the bridges filled with people fleeing the city on foot and all the rescue people doing what they do best. We got the paper done, and I went home.

I had a hard time going to sleep that night.

We had to re-live the events of Sept. 11 over and over again for the next month or so as all the details of the events were put together and clean up was under way, and the list of victims was growing. It was a hard time to do what we do for a living. Some said journalists were being voyeuristic and should just leave people alone. But because of their efforts (our efforts if I may count myself among them) we have so many memories captured on paper and video. We have historic newspaper pages, dramatic video footage, beautifully-written stories, gripping photographs -- all the things that will help explain the story to generations to come.

This morning, I watched a show on TV that took professional and amateur video and put it all together as a timeline of that day's events. It was fascinating to observe a family who watched the events out of their living room window. They were close enough to see it happen but far enough away to be out of harm's way. I'm glad I didn't have Biscuit at that point because I can't imagine trying to explain it to a small child.

I didn't really have much emotion while watching the video show. I was more fascinated with the TV crews and reporters who were at the scene and the people who were able to capture that morning on tape. But then I flipped through some other channels and came across one where they were reading the names of the victims. I stayed there for about 3 minutes, but then I had to move on to something else. Hearing those names and seeing the emotions of the people reading them was too much to handle. It brought faces to those who were lost. The thought of losing Jeff of Biscuit or a family member or friend like these people had was just too much.

I don't know if my approach of handling these situations is good or bad or harmful or helpful. All I know is each person has to find what will help him or her through whatever life throws at them.

As much as I hate it, I know Biscuit will have to deal with hard and complicated situations in his life. My prayer for him is that when he has to face hard times, he can find courage and strength and grace and mercy to be his companions.