The featured photo is a screenshot of the Facebook post in the Exploring Virginia group that inspired today’s rant.
As you probably know, yesterday was the 22nd anniversary of September 11th, or “9/11”. That was the horrifying day in 2001 when terrorists attacked the United States using airplanes. Every year, people remember where they were and what they were doing on that dark day in US history. And every year, certain people crawl out from under their rocks and post conspiracy theories about why 9/11 is an elaborate hoax.
Because I am the wife of someone who was actually in the Pentagon on September 11, 2001, I don’t believe the conspiracy theorists. I think their “theories” are 100 percent bullshit. Moreover, I think posting their contemptuous lies, especially on the anniversary of that act of terrorism, is incredibly offensive and distasteful… especially to those who were there to see the horrors of it firsthand.
My husband was in one of the innermost rings of the Pentagon on September 11, 2001. He was there to do his job as a U.S. Soldier, something he was very proud to do for about 30 years of his life, on active duty, as a reservist, and later as a full-time member of the National Guard. He was there to see people who were injured or killed by the jetliner that crashed into his workplace. He heard the screams, the alarms, and cries of people as they rushed out of the building. He later heard the silence when the airports shut down, the metros stopped running, and people were stunned into quiet. He smelled the burning fuel, the destroyed and burned building materials, burning flesh, and spilled blood.
After September 11, 2001, my husband was there to help take care of grieving families who lost their loved ones forever. In his case, it was a family whose beloved matriarch was killed while she was working as a civilian in the Pentagon. He was there to help her family when they all came to Washington, DC for a memorial service to honor the many dead, just from the Pentagon strike. He saw their tears and anguished as they realized that their family member was killed by strangers from faraway lands just for being at work. And those people who carried out their suicide mission also took a couple hundred innocent passengers and crew members with them as they crashed that airplane into the Pentagon.
Yesterday, someone in the Exploring Virginia Facebook group posted a photo of the Pentagon’s 9/11 memorial. I haven’t seen it in person myself, because we left the Northern Virginia area years ago. The post, which was meant to be respectful and reverent, quickly turned into an epic shitstorm as a couple of conspiracy theorists started posting antagonistic comments about how 9/11 was all a hoax and we’d all been “lied to” by the U.S. government. Before I blocked the offenders, I noticed that one of them wrote that it was really a scud missile that hit the Pentagon, not a plane full of people. I’d love to know where that idiot thinks all of those people on the airplane went if they weren’t on the aircraft. Are they all in the witness protection program, living in Roswell, New Mexico? Perhaps the Bermuda Triangle?
This morning, I see an admin in that group had to turn off commenting. I’m sure it was because of the insensitive assholes who felt the need to push their conspiracy theorist bullshit on a day when so many people are still grieving. A few people did take on the conspiracy theorists. One person even outright stated that she felt it was in very poor taste to be pushing that agenda when so many people are still mourning lost loved ones. There are still people whose friends and family members vanished without a trace. They didn’t even have anything left to bury! Even in 2023, 22 years after that day, they’re still identifying the DNA left in the remains. Two more victims were identified just a few days ago; they were the first since 2021. 9/11/01 was just an indescribably terrible day, and for some people, the horror is still evolving.
Yesterday, Bill came home and told me that, for the first time, he’d seen a video of that day. He said he’d wished he’d never seen it, because it showed a man who jumped from one of the World Trade Center’s towers. The man must have realized he had a choice of waiting to die from the fire, smoke inhalation, or the building’s inevitable collapse, or simply jumping from the building and ending it right then and there. He chose to jump. Can you even imagine the absolute horror of that situation? He must have been terrified! And imagine how this man’s family members and friends feel, knowing that’s how he went out of this world!
I realize that not everyone believes the official story about September 11, 2001. I also know all too well that you can’t argue with people who have stubbornly made up their minds. I just wish these folks would give their conspiracy theories a rest on the anniversary. There are 364-365 other days per year to push nonsense conspiracy theories. September 11th should be a day when Americans come together and mourn the people who died on that day, or on a later day, due to illnesses or injuries stemming from that day… or those whose lives were permanently changed for the worse because of that day.
Conspiracy theorists need to “zip it”, but especially on the anniversary of September 11, 2001. Have some respect for those who really lost something on that day… there were so many of them! And I’ll bet not a single one of the people who experienced such profound losses gives a single shit about the preposterous theories some of these tin foil hat wearing morons are pushing. The theories they push don’t change anything. All they do is frustrate, annoy, and anger people who have already been through enough because of that day. Give it a rest, please. For America.
Happy Sunday morning, y’all. I’m not sure what we’re going to do today. I was giving some thought to going on post and seeing the rug guy, who lives in Wiesbaden, but usually sells his rugs in Stuttgart. We bought a rug three weeks ago, thinking we would replace one of the ones in the living room that Arran repeatedly peed on. But the guy didn’t have the pattern of rug we needed, and the one we ended up buying was a size too small. The rug guy is in Wiesbaden this weekend, so this would be the time to go.
It’s raining again today, though, and I’m kind of not wanting to venture out. I know I should, because I really do need to get out more. I just don’t feel like getting dressed. I’d rather hibernate with my latest book. Some travel blogger I am these days… I think COVID-19 lockdowns might have ruined my sense of adventure.
Given that it’s Sunday, I thought it might be a good time to write about today’s topic. I often see people praising God for things, claiming that God has somehow blessed or gifted them. The Duggar family is famous for claiming that God had blessed them with many children, as if they were flowers. Wonder what kind of flower Josh Duggar is…
I’ve heard Michelle Duggar say things like “Saying there are too many children is like saying there are too many flowers.” And Jim Bob says things like “Every child is a gift from God. We will keep receiving as many gifts as God wants to send us.”
And while I’m not an atheist, I do sometimes wonder, whenever I read or hear these things. Is it really God sending you gifts, blessing you, saving you, or smiling on you? Or are you just lucky, hardworking, very fertile, or shameless in your willingness to ask for a discount or a freebie?
Don’t get me wrong. I like to think that God had something to do with some of the good things I have in my life. And maybe there have been times when I console myself when things go wrong, telling myself that it was God’s will. I try to tell myself that whatever bad thing happened is just setting me up for something better in the future. But is it, though? Or what if God is actually preparing you for something worse? We all have a “time” to go, right? We all encounter a time when, even if we are true believers, God won’t save or protect us.
Life is kind of absurd. People often do whatever works for them. I look at how and where I met my husband. I never, in a million years, would have guessed we would have found each other in the way we did. It’s hard not to think there wasn’t some kind of divine hand that brought us together, or at least fate. Not only did we meet in a completely unexpected way, but we are also very compatible. It’s crazy that we get along as well as we do. We’re like puzzle pieces.
If you know me offline, you might understand why I make that statement. I have kind of an idiosyncratic personality. Some people like me. A lot of people can’t stand me… or that’s how it seems, anyway. I tend to be outspoken, and some people seem to think I’m too full of myself. Other people think I’m a silly twit. Those people don’t actually know me very well, but most of them also never gave me a chance. Maybe it’s better that way. I find that I have some friends who are genuine, rather than a lot of fake people claiming to be genuine friends.
Recently, Bill and I had a conversation about how I’d like to travel more. Maybe I’d even take trips by myself, like I used to before we were married. Bill says he’d be okay with it, but I can tell he doesn’t like the idea. Truth be told, I’d rather travel with Bill. But he has to work, and takes work trips frequently. So I stay home and tend to the house and the dog(s). Bill’s therapist recently pointed out that his relationship with me was probably the most stable one of his life. It’s understandable that Bill doesn’t want to lose me. Of course, I don’t want to lose myself, either… and sometimes I wonder if I have, when I stay home and watch life pass. Maybe he’s afraid that God wouldn’t protect me as well as he does. 😉
This morning I saw someone post about the Boston Marathon Bombing. It happened almost exactly ten years ago– on April 15, 2013. We were living in North Carolina, preparing to move to Texas for our year there. The person who posted wrote that she had run the marathon and, in spite of having a bum foot and jet lag (she’d flown over from Germany), she kept running. She finished the marathon just five minutes before the bombing occurred. If she had been any slower, she might have been injured or killed.
She praised God for protecting her. I guess I can understand that thinking. After all, Bill was in the Pentagon on 9/11, and his office had just been moved the week prior. Had it not been relocated, he probably would have died that day, and I’d be an old spinster. Was it God that protected Bill that day? Or was he just very lucky? Was God protecting the marathon runner, or did she simply avoid being in the wrong place at the wrong time, like millions of other people who didn’t die that day?
And what of the people who did die or get hurt? Was God NOT protecting them? Were they being punished? Was it just their time to die? Or was it simply the work of evil people with no respect for other people’s lives?
I truly don’t know the answers. I think it’s comforting to give it up to God, but common sense tells me that’s fallacious thinking at work. I inherited my mother’s pragmatic side. When I was a child, I had a really great imagination, mainly because I spent a lot of time alone. Whenever I came up with something really silly or fantastic, my mom would laugh. I don’t know why she was like that, since she is herself a very creative and artistic person. She makes beautiful music and creates incredible works of art with her needles– knitting, needlepoint, cross-stitch, and other such things. She is also a lifelong Christian, although not a particularly devout one. She always went to church, but it was mainly because she was the church’s organist most of the time.
My dad was notably stronger in his Christian beliefs, I think… however, I think my mom is a better person than he was. Or, at least she was less abusive to me. He seemed to be more of a believer than she was, anyway… although I always suspected he used church for a social outlet and business purposes, as well as a place to show off his singing voice. He was very proud of it, and church was one place he could indulge his pride. As we know, some “Christians” don’t always really behave in a Christ-like way. Some might say that I’m not one to talk about that; but then, I don’t claim to be a super devout Christian myself.
I’m grateful when people I know manage to escape things like bombings, natural disasters, crime scenes, or other situations. I don’t know that I would necessarily credit God, though… because why would God choose certain individuals to save, while others are forsaken? And why would a loving, protective God allow such horrors to take place in the first place? Where was God when Dzhokhar and Tamerlan Tsarnaev were making and planting their pressure cooker bombs? Where is God when anyone decides to do evil things? Why is it that God is there when someone is “saved”, but not when someone falls down the dark rabbit hole that causes them to do such awful things?
I’m sure there are devout Christians out there who can confidently answer my questions. However, I’m not sure I would be satisfied what they’d tell me. I’ve probably already considered their answers. Usually, what they say is something along the lines of “It was God’s will” or “God needed another angel” or something like that. I don’t blame them. Those thoughts are comforting. I do it myself when I lose a dog and think of them going to the Rainbow Bridge, joyfully meeting all of my other long lost animal friends.
When we lost Arran last month, I was grateful to God that he had a relatively peaceful end… and was pretty active up until the last twelve hours of his life. But maybe he was just very lucky… as were Bill and I to have him in our lives in the first place… as is Noyzi to no longer live on the streets of Pristina, but instead getting to live a cushy life in Germany with Americans. The odds were surely against Noyzi having that life, right?
Hmmm… maybe God had something to do with it, after all. Who knows?
Well, I think I’ll stop dwelling on today’s deep thoughts and move on with the day. That may simply mean retiring to my bedroom and reading more of my latest book, hoping not to fall asleep. 😉
Yesterday was the 21st anniversary of 9/11. I noticed that not a lot of people posted about it, probably because a lot of us are preoccupied with the recent death of Queen Elizabeth II. I know I watched some of her final journey from Balmoral to Edinburgh. Although I’ve seen some posts about how the monarchy needs to be abolished, the truth is, a lot of people loved the queen. Of course she wasn’t perfect, and there were some things she did that angered people. But then, nobody’s perfect… and I’m not so sure it’s that easy to dissolve the British monarchy. Maybe it will happen someday, but I don’t think it will in my lifetime.
In any case, every year on 9/11, I remember what I was doing that day. I even remember what I was wearing. I remember how, all day, I wondered if Bill was okay. He had just been relocated to the Pentagon and was working there on 9/11. He happened to be in the wedge that got hit. In fact, his office had just been moved the week prior. If it hadn’t been moved, he probably would have been killed on 9/11. We were just “friends” at that point, having just spent a truly wonderful Labor Day weekend together. I knew we were developing strong romantic feelings for each other, but we still hadn’t really made our relationship public. And so, on 9/11/01, no one would have known to tell me if Bill had died or been injured.
I remember that evening, talking to my mom on the phone. I told her about my “friend” who worked in the Pentagon. She was an experienced Air Force wife, so she gave me some advice. After I got off the phone, I got a PM from Bill on Yahoo! Messenger. He said he’d tried to call me, but he had the wrong number. We had a serious conversation, and I told him that if he considered me his girlfriend, it might be a good idea to tell people about my existence. He agreed, and we announced to friends and family that we were together.
We also started to date in person regularly. This was a new thing for me, because I didn’t really date much at all before I met Bill. I’d had a high school boyfriend, but that was a very platonic relationship. I had no sexual history to speak of, and although I was only 29 years old, I thought I was going to die a virgin. So it was kind of strange to be dating a man, especially since he was divorced and had children.
Because I lived in South Carolina and he lived in Virginia, our dates involved long weekends at one or the other’s apartments. I came to enjoy those weekends very much, even though we were both broke. We were just so comfortable with each other. We always had a good time doing whatever… watching movies, taking walks, eating cheap food… and then he decided not to practice Mormonism anymore, which was a great thing. I remember going to his apartment once, having left beer in his fridge during my last visit. The beer was finished. I asked him what happened to it, and he said he drank it. I said, “Yea!”
In November 2001, Bill and his mom joined us at our Thanksgiving shindig at my Granny’s house in Virginia. They fit right in with my family. Bill’s mom liked me, and my parents loved Bill, which I knew they would. My dad made jokes about Bill being LDS, but I assured him that when he met Bill, he’d love him. Sure enough, I was right. I went to visit Bill at Christmas; then he flew to Arizona to see his kids. That turned out to be his last good holiday with his kids before his Ex went into full alienation mode.
A few weeks later, we were online, and I told Bill I wanted to give him a candy pop ring. He said, “Don’t do that… because I want to give you a ring.”
“Does this mean you want to get married?” I asked.
“Yes.” He said.
“So are we now engaged?” I asked.
“Yes, I think so.” He said.
I went into my last semester of graduate school unexpectedly engaged to be married. I never thought it would happen. Two months later, before I got on a plane to Jamaica to attend my sister’s destination wedding, Bill took me out to dinner at 1789 restaurant in Georgetown, where he presented me with a beautiful engagement ring. I’ve worn it every day since then. My finger has a permanent groove in it. 2002 was a big year for us… I finished dual master’s degrees and got married. I became a military wife and stepmother. Of course, I barely count myself as a stepmother, given how alienated Bill’s daughters were. But at least one of them came around, eventually.
It’s hard to believe we’ve been married for almost 20 years. In just two months, we’ll pass that milestone. It seems like yesterday, we were online friends, and I was wondering if he’d survived 9/11. I’m so grateful that he did survive, because I could not have imagined a more perfect husband for me. We are ridiculously compatible, which is no small feat. Like I said, it’s not like I dated much before we met. I look at the state of the world now, and I feel fortunate that Bill and I have been together to experience it. We’ve shared a lot of incredible life events that have run the gamut, happy, sad, infuriating, amazing… And we still light up each other’s faces. Below is a photo I took on Saturday, after we’d been drinking wine in the rain at our village’s wine fest. It amazes me that after twenty years, I still smile like this when I’m with Bill.
No makeup… and my chins showed up, too.
Anyway… I didn’t mean to get all mushy. I guess I just wanted to write something kind of sweet for once, instead of something angry, snarky, or depressing. The day after 9/11, we were an official couple. Four months after that, we were engaged. Ten months after we got engaged, we were married at Virginia Military Institute in Lexington. The last twenty years have flown by. Despite my bitching, grousing, moaning, and negativity, it’s mostly been a wonderful trip. But it definitely hasn’t been without its challenges, as any regular reader of this blog knows.
I’m so glad I took that leap of faith. I would not trade my life now for what I was preparing for when Bill and I met. It would have been a very different life for me… I might have been successful. Maybe I might have even found another man to love, although I think it might be hard to find one that is as compatible as Bill is.
I don’t get crushes anymore. I don’t have any temptation to be with anyone else. I don’t know if that’s normal, but I do know that while I might notice a good looking man, I don’t feel like trading Bill for that other guy. I don’t wonder about intimacy with other men. I don’t wonder how it would have turned out if one of my old crushes had liked me back. I don’t know if that makes me unusual or lucky. I just know that the one thing in life that I really did do right was get married to Bill.
While I don’t cherish the horrific memories of 9/11, I do think that 9/11 pushed us together sooner. I don’t think we would have been as quick to get together if it weren’t for that terrible day, when I didn’t know if he was dead or alive, and he didn’t know if he was going to survive. Bill was recovering from a truly toxic relationship, and I was just nervous and scared, and wanting to finally launch a career I might have been proud of. I guess the universe simply had different plans for both of us. I really can’t complain. In fact, every day, it amazes me how things have turned out for us.
Thank God for guys like Bill… who appreciate complicated women like me. I can’t imagine being with anyone else…
A couple of years ago, I wrote my 9/11 story and posted it on this blog. Almost everybody who was alive on 9/11/01 has a 9/11 story. I guess the only ones who don’t are those who were somehow unconscious that day. Or maybe people who live in remote places they have never left, where the world’s news can’t reach them.
Suffice to say, those of us who live in the modern world, where there’s television and Internet, have a 9/11 story. Or, at the very least, they’ve heard other people’s memories of that day, if they weren’t around at that time. Like… I wasn’t here for John F. Kennedy’s assassination, but I’ve read and heard plenty of stories of that day. I think 9/11 was much bigger than Kennedy’s assassination. 9/11 permanently changed the world.
I remember 9/11 very well. It was the week after Bill and I, then just “friends”, had a magical Labor Day weekend. No one in our families knew we were dating. So, when Bill went to work at the Pentagon on 9/11, no one knew that he had a special friend who would worry all day, wondering if he had survived. After 9/11, we decided that we needed to make our relationship official. A few months later, we were engaged. We married in 2002.
I remember what it was like for Bill in the days that followed September 11, 2001. At that time, people had come together in solidarity. There were people who offered their support to any and all emergency workers. Police officers, nurses, doctors, military service members, firefighters, were all being heralded as heroes. I remember how people would stop Bill when he was in uniform and thank him for his service.
I read a story this morning about a couple who happened to be on a flight from England bound for Houston, Texas that got diverted to Gander, a small town in Newfoundland, Canada. They fell in love while they were stranded in Canada. Aside from falling in love, the couple, along with all of the other 7000 people who were suddenly diverted to Gander because of terrorism, enjoyed the most extraordinary hospitality from the locals in Gander.
Americans were Americans, before they were Democrats or Republicans. People came together to help each other through a crisis. It wasn’t just Americans, either. I wasn’t in Germany at that time, but this morning, I read an article about what it was like in Stuttgart on 9/11. Germans and Americans stood side by side in solidarity as people made sense of what happened.
Above is a post that reminded me about how Germans and Americans came together after 9/11. That photo brought tears to my eyes yesterday, partly because I was moved, and partly because it probably wouldn’t happen in 2021.
Twenty years later, it seems like most of the goodwill and civility that was so prevalent after 9/11 is gone. Now, on 9/11/21, we have people laughing at teenagers who share personal stories about losing family members to COVID-19. Grady Knox, a high school student in Tennessee, bravely tried to explain why he thinks mask mandates are a good thing to have in his school. People told him to shut up. It could not have been easy for Grady to stand up and talk about losing his grandmother. Public speaking is not easy for a lot of people. But for him to stand up and speak and then have his neighbors laugh at him and tell him to shut up… well, that’s just shameful. And it makes me think that those people are not good people. They have learned nothing, and have no empathy for others.
Today, we have governors who are more interested in money and power than they are in saving human lives (except for the unborn, of course). Joe Biden– recently reviled for the way the U.S. military FINALLY left Afghanistan after twenty long years– delivered a tough speech, expressing how disappointed he is in the complete lack of concern Republican leaders have for their constituents. Biden has been threatened with lawsuits, as he signs legislation mandating that people in certain workplaces get vaccinated against COVID-19. Biden is not looking so wimpy now, as he tells the governors to “have at it” in their plans to sue him.
President Joe Biden on Thursday issued two executive orders mandating vaccines for federal workers and contractors and announced new requirements for large employers and health care providers that he said would affect around 100 million workers, more than two-thirds of the U.S. workforce.
I read one comment from a Republican who said if Donald Trump had ever tried to enforce vaccinations, people would be “horrified” and calling for Trump’s head on a platter. However, I think it’s highly unlikely that Trump would have ever done what Joe Biden is doing. Trump does not care about anyone but himself, and he would not have done something that would alienate his conservative base the way the vaccine and mask mandates would have. There is a huge difference between Donald Trump and Joe Biden. Joe Biden has basic decency and respect for others. Donald Trump, simply put, does not.
Donald Trump’s encouragement to get the vaccine was lukewarm… he got boos and laughter. I think he’s created monsters.
Southerners who are getting sick aren’t thinking of anyone but themselves… until they get sick and realize just how fucking horrible COVID is.
Today, we have governors who are gleefully signing legislation that pits neighbors against each other, and puts bounties on the heads of women who seek abortions. Meanwhile, Greg Abbott is fine with people walking around, spreading COVID-19 as they tote their guns openly and run their mouths about their freedoms. Freedom means nothing if you’re dead… but try to explain that to some of these folks. They insist that COVID-19 is not a risk for them or or their families… or anyone else. Somehow, they’ve managed to ignore the news stories and documentaries about people who have had COVID-19. They’ve even managed to ignore Howard Stern, who has berated the willfully ignorant.
I can’t wait to vote for whomever runs against this man.
I empathize with his frustration.
This antipathy especially happens on the Internet. Even on the most benign of posts, there’s a chance someone will lash out with nastiness or unnecessary snark. Yesterday, I was answering a question on Toytown Germany from an American who is trying to get her US Moderna shots recognized by a local pharmacist, so she can enjoy a more normal life. I expressed empathy for her situation, commenting that it would be nice if we had a more global solution that would make it easier for people from all countries to get their shots recognized. It’s in everyone’s best interests to encourage the vaccines and reward people for doing the right thing. You’d think that would be a pretty innocuous comment, right? I certainly didn’t think it would go south.
Sure enough, some guy from up north responded snarkily, by sharing a picture of the yellow World Health Organization booklet, and writing that is the global standard that works fine. Yes, it’s true, that yellow booklet is used around the world. But, for some reason, the CDC isn’t using it, so that comment isn’t helpful. There are a lot of Americans who live in Germany. Some of them got shots when they went to the USA, where they were easier to get. Then they came back to Germany and, if they live in an area where there aren’t a lot of Americans, are not able to get their vaccines made official in Germany. This is a problem. I was trying to help someone solve the problem for themselves. For my efforts, I got a shitty comment from some smartass who thought that was the right time to act like a jerk.
I could have ignored it entirely. Or I could have responded with a snarky comment of my own. Instead, I agreed that the yellow booklet is useful around the world, but it’s not helpful to Americans in Germany right now. Americans aren’t issued the yellow booklets, even though that would make things easier. Being rude to me doesn’t change that fact. And then I added that I was trying to be nice, and being snarky and negative isn’t helpful to the community. Those kinds of crappy responses just discourage people from posting, which defeats the purpose of having an online community… or any community, really. Why try to help someone if you’re going to be mocked for your efforts?
I realize that even as I preach about this, I’m as guilty as anyone is. I do try not to respond to people with rudeness. Sometimes, I will admit, I fail. Because, like so many other people, I’m fed up. I’m tired of people who can’t simply cooperate and have basic respect for other people. But still, I think being kind is the better way to go, most of the time. I truly do believe that being understanding and decent is, overall, better than being angry, mean, malicious, and rude. There really is enough of that in the world today.
I think it’s sad that we haven’t learned much from 9/11. On September 11, 2001, people around the world came together in solidarity. On September 11, 2021, a lot of people are acting like selfish jerks. It’s depressing… although, I guess if I look for it, I can find some positive things about today. Like, for instance, the fact that Bill was not killed on 9/11, and despite everything, we’re still together and basically healthy and happy with each other’s company. But it’s hard to ignore all of the divisiveness and evil that is being perpetuated right now.
Twenty years later, when things had really gone to shit.
I do hope that people will find a way to come together. Right now, I’m reminded of the opening of the film, Lean on Me… as we see how things can change for the worse in 20 years. Maybe a new version of Mr. Clark is in order to straighten us all out… Maybe Joe Biden is turning into him now. One can always hope, right?
It’s that time of year again. Ever since September 11, 2001, Americans go into memorial mode and recall the day when our country was attacked and life changed forever. I have shared this story before, but since it’s September 11th again, I’m going to write about how I spent that day and where it ultimately led me.
I am a firm believer that good things come out of almost every situation. Sometimes you have to look really hard to see the good in a situation. Sometimes things happen that you wish wouldn’t have happened, no matter what positive effect occurred. In my case, I think September 11th helped me find my way to the altar and, ultimately, a better life. I wish it hadn’t happened that way, but it kind of did…
Flashback to 2001… Labor Day weekend. I had just started my third and final year in my dual master’s degree program at the University of South Carolina. Bill had just been transferred from Leavenworth, Kansas to the Pentagon only a few weeks prior. We were both itching for a change of scenery, so I suggested we meet up at my grandmother’s house in Natural Bridge, Virginia. Prior to that meeting, we’d only had one other in person meeting, back in May of that year. The Army had sent Bill to Columbia, South Carolina on business, like they’d done the year prior. I missed Bill on his first visit, but caught him on his second.
I remember after our May meeting, I wasn’t sure how I felt about him. He seemed taken with me and repeatedly told me that it would be hard to go back to typing since he’d met me. But then all summer, we kept writing to each other. Seeing him again over Labor Day seemed right. He came down, met my aunt, uncle, and grandmother, and we spent a magical weekend together. We visited Goshen Pass and had a fantastic time…
I took this picture in November 2014, but we visited in September 2001, when it was hot enough for swimming. It was so much fun!
As Bill was leaving Granny’s house, she told me that I should marry him. Granny was, at that time, 95 years old and sharp as a tack. She loved Bill, and after that weekend, so did I. I remember practically floating all the way back to South Carolina. All week, I thought about our amazing Labor Day weekend in Virginia. And then came September 11th.
That morning was absolutely beautiful. The weather was warm and sunny, but not oppressively hot. I wore a short black skirt, bright blue long sleeved blouse, and black tights. Back then, I dressed up most days because I had to look professional. I was planning to actually be a professional, rather than an overeducated housewife. I had to go to my field placement at the Recovering Professionals Program. I was compiling data for a project I was working on when my friend, Jennifer, told me about the first plane that had crashed into the World Trade Center. I didn’t think much of it at the time. She’d heard about it on the radio, so had no visual appreciation for what had happened.
Then the second plane hit.
Next thing I knew, the Pentagon was hit… And I realized that Bill, unofficially my new boyfriend, was at the Pentagon. Bill’s office had just been moved to a different location. It was originally in the area that was hit by the jet airliner that crashed into the Pentagon that day. If they hadn’t moved his office, he probably would have died on 9/11. Then, another plane went down in Pennsylvania. It seemed like the world was ending.
All day long, I wondered if Bill was dead or alive. I was still calling him my “friend”, but I knew we had more than friendship. I’d been chatting with him since November 1999, when we were both making new beginnings. He had separated from his ex wife and I had started grad school. We’d chatted platonically for a few months before he told me about his wife and children. I remember being shocked and sad for him… and, if I’m honest, a little sad for me. I knew I liked him, even in early 2000. But, he was in Kansas; I was in South Carolina; and I never had any intention of ever meeting him offline, let alone marrying him.
But then Ex served Bill with divorce papers at his father’s house over Easter 2000. They were divorced by June 2000. She had a boyfriend living in the house Bill was still paying for, and he was playing “daddy” to Ex’s three kids– two of whom were Bill’s daughters. She gladly took his money every month, but pushed him out of their children’s lives. Bill’s replacement is still married to her and they have had two more children. We hear #3 doesn’t get treated very well at all, but back then, according to her, new boyfriend was practically perfect, and Bill was a bastard who had ruined everything. Ex told Bill no other woman would ever want him. She didn’t know about me.
Fate conspired to have us meet. It was as if the stars aligned for our unlikely union. My aunt’s brother, Ralph, met Bill at a National Guard convention just a few weeks before I met him in person. Ralph is a retired Guardsman as well as a retired Virginia State Trooper. He assured me Bill wasn’t a psycho. I felt safe in meeting him in May 2001 and again in September 2001. By the time Labor Day 2001 was over, I knew I could love him. By the time 9/11 was over, I knew I wanted to marry him.
My mom and I talked on the phone and she told me not to expect to hear from Bill for awhile. Mom is a very experienced Air Force wife, so she was giving me practical advice about Bill, even though she’d never met him and was hearing of my “boyfriend” for the first time. As soon as I hung up the phone, Bill sent me a message on Yahoo! Messenger, letting me know he was okay. He had tried to call me, but the phone number he had for me was one digit off. I swear it wasn’t on purpose that the number was wrong. I probably just forgot it myself. No one ever calls me anyway, even back in 2001, when someone might have a reason to call.
I was very relieved that Bill had survived the terrorist attack, especially since he could have been killed just for being at the Pentagon, and would have been killed if his office hadn’t been moved. And I told him it was time we came out of the closet and told our families we were dating, because if something had happened to him, I never would have been informed. Bill agreed. Weeks later, he and his mom joined my big family at our annual Thanksgiving party in Natural Bridge, Virginia. Bill told him mom he was thinking of proposing and his mom, who was never a fan of Ex, said, “I approve.”
A year later, on November 16th, 2002, Bill and I were married at Virginia Military Institute in Lexington, Virginia. My dad was a graduate, as is an uncle and several cousins. Another uncle and at least two aunts worked at VMI. It’s about fifteen miles from Natural Bridge, which is where my dad’s family calls home. Just last week, 23andMe introduced me to a long, lost relative whose biological father was my great uncle. He was from Natural Bridge, too. It’s fitting that we were married in Rockbridge County, since that’s really my home, even if I never officially lived there.
One of the things that went right on our wedding day.
Our wedding day was imperfect, to say the least. Although the ceremony itself was beautiful and meaningful, some things went horribly awry. The most memorable SNAFU involved Bill’s dad, who was also his best man, locking his knees and almost fainting before we said our vows. And then, after the wedding, we spent two weeks unofficially married, because somehow our marriage license got lost in the mail. It was put in a mailbox in Lexington just after the ceremony, but the Rockbridge County clerk’s office either never got it or misplaced it.
In 2002, Virginia law stipulated, and still stipulates, that newly married couples have five days to file their marriage licenses after the ceremony. Otherwise, the license is null and void. I was waiting for the official license to get to us, but it never did. Bill called the county clerk’s office and was treated very badly by the staff. Eventually, the county clerk got on the phone and told Bill that even if the license was somehow found, it would not be honored, since it got to them beyond the deadline.
Bill and I went to the court in Fredericksburg, Virginia, which was where we were living at the time. We explained our situation, but they told us there was nothing they could do, as we were already “married”. But we were not officially married, so we couldn’t take care of any personal business. And Rockbridge County was telling us that even if they received our license, the deadline had passed and they would not be honoring it. The court clerk was very uncooperative and unhelpful, and offered no solutions on what we could do to fix the situation. In fact, he became quite belligerent with Bill and accused him of being “abusive” (which is real laugh– good thing he didn’t speak to me).
I was shocked by this turn of events… especially since I’ve always known people in Rockbridge County to be nice and helpful, but then in the wake of our wedding, discovered that there are some real assholes living there. My family has been in that county for a couple hundred years and I am probably related to many people who live there and haven’t left… and a lot of people haven’t left. I’m sure some people think I’m an asshole, too, but I can’t imagine why that clerk wasn’t more sympathetic to our situation. What were we supposed to do? Was he on some kind of power trip?
Fortunately, Bill is used to dealing with assholes and he’s also a very tenacious, yet pleasant, polite, and even-keeled kind of guy. He called Virginia’s Attorney General’s office to find out who the Rockbridge County court clerk worked for. Next, realizing it was an election year, he called both our local representative and Rockbridge County’s representative, explained the situation, and told them that he was a 9/11 survivor. I couldn’t get a new Social Security card, military ID, or any other benefits until the clerk did the job the people elected him to do.
Both representatives lit a fire under the clerk’s ass and after our officiant sent him a copy of the license application, the clerk begrudgingly handed over our official license, albeit with a nasty letter falsely accusing Bill of being “abusive” and admitting that he hadn’t wanted to help him because, basically, his feelings were hurt. Seriously?
I don’t like to call people snowflakes, but that guy must be a big one if my husband hurt his feelings. Wow. I have a feeling that the guy was just angry that Bill didn’t let him bully him and demanded that the clerk do his fucking job. Seems to be a trend in our marriage… People mistake Bill’s kindness for weakness and think they can steamroll him, make threats and false accusations, and take advantage. But I know the truth. Underneath that pleasant exterior beats the heart of a true warrior… and anyone who crosses Bill should remember that he makes his living planning battles. Yes, he’s a super nice guy, but he’s neither stupid nor cowardly, and especially now, he doesn’t tolerate bullies (including Ex).
I won’t even get into what Ex thought of our nuptials. Oh, okay… I’ll say this. When Bill told her he was going to propose to me, she asked if I was LDS. Bill and Ex were “sealed” for eternity and, at the time, he was still Mormon. So she wanted to know if I was going to be joining the fold. He said I wasn’t. She said he must love me very much. She was referring to the idea that Bill was giving up “eternal glory” to marry a “Gentile” (that is, a non-Mormon with no plans to convert). We would not be “sister wives” in the hereafter, and she couldn’t use her position as Bill’s first wife and mother of his kids, or LDS “teachings”, to cow me into submission.
In November, we will have been happily married for seventeen years. They have been seventeen years well spent. Would we have gotten married if not for 9/11? Probably. But I think 9/11 definitely sped things along and forced us to admit our feelings and tremendous chemistry for each other. We’ve had our share of problems from the outside, but our marriage has always been rock solid. We get along ridiculously well, and work as partners.
There were some things in my life that I didn’t do right, but I did find the right life partner. And as horrible as 9/11 was, it did show me that I had found the right man and I didn’t want to lose him. So… while I will always feel somber for the many people who died or were injured due to terrorism on 9/11/01, I will also remember that day as the day my life changed for the better. But I will also always remember that it was also a very dark day, as it took away America’s innocence and, I’m sorry to say, its collective spirit of generosity. I truly hope we get some of that kindness back in my lifetime.
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