9/11 - A Remembrance

The following is a piece I wrote after my niece, Charlize, was born. Today is her third birthday:

Falling asleep the night of September 10th, I was certain of a couple of things: that my brother and his wife were expecting a baby any day now and that I didn’t have to work the next day. I was going to be able to sleep in.

I worked at a comic book store in Omaha, NE at the time. Not the most exciting of jobs, I know, but it was fun some days. But when no one comes into the store the days were long and dull and I was glad of not having to work that Tuesday.

My brother, Bill, and his wife, Luann, had been married for about a year and a half. They had just gotten a nice, big house in Broomfield, Colorado, a Denver suburb. From what I heard, it was a good house in which to have Bar-B-Qs and raise children.

As I said, the baby was due at any time and my father was all ready to throw Mom in the car and head out to Colorado at the slightest hint of labor. He was looking forward to meeting his granddaughter.

He had just become a grandfather for the first time a mere three and a half months earlier, when my sister, Leslie, and her husband, Brian, welcomed my nephew into the world. That happened in town, so, obviously, it was much easier on my parents.

I awoke Tuesday morning to the sound of my father knocking on my door. I’m still unsure of the time, but I vaguely remember hearing him say something about a plane hitting one of the World Trade Center towers. I mumbled a reply and fell back asleep.

A short time later, there was another knock on my door, “A second plane has hit the other tower.” A thought flashed in my mind of some stupid Michael Bay film, but why would Dad wake me to tell me about a movie? I grabbed my glasses and bolted out of bed.

The moments that followed have all become a blur. Jumbled images from different TV stations, helplessly watching as plane after plane after plane slam into the Towers. It seemed like it happened a thousand times, but in reality, only twice.

Reports started coming in from all the stations. Eyewitnesses came forth covered in soot and ash. Every station had its own “Exclusive” footage showing the same nightmare over and over and over. I silently prayed that I was still asleep and dreaming.

Throughout the morning, we saw the Pentagon attacked, and a rural Pennsylvania countryside become Hell. And somewhere, amidst all the reporters and horrifying images, the phone rang. Numbly, I answered. It was my brother.

It was around ten-thirty. He was at the hospital, on his cell phone. He and Luann had been there since three that morning, when Luann went into labor. They had been in the delivery room this whole time, unaware of the destruction thousands of miles away.

“Oh my God,” I said, “So you don’t know what’s happened?” He had heard a few rumors from nurses throughout the morning, but couldn’t really pay much attention. He was having a baby. I handed the phone to Dad and went back to staring at the TV.

“Should we leave now,” I heard him ask, “Oh, we can’t. Your mother won’t be home from work ‘til three.” They talked for a few more minutes until finally deciding to wait until my brother called back, when he would finally be a father.

The day wore on. There were no more attacks. The President stopped by, Air Force One being diverted to nearby Offutt Air Force Base. How surreal was that? Knowing one of the most strategic sites in the nation is a mere thirty miles from home.

Mom got home from work shortly after 3:30. Dad told her to pack, to get ready to go to Colorado. But they couldn’t. Not yet. My brother hadn’t called. Not knowing became a theme for the day. Who attacked us? And what’s going on in Colorado?

Hours crawled by and I remained rooted in front of the TV. What else could I do? Half a country away from the people who needed the help and five hundred miles in the other direction, in some hospital near Denver, my niece was being born. Or so I hoped.

Close to ten hours had passed since Bill called. Dad repeatedly tried to reach him on his cell phone. No answer. Darkness had fallen across what soon would be known as Ground Zero, yet it was lit up like Christmas. They continued to search for survivors.

“Let’s just go. We’ll get in the car and go,” but it was late, past ten and we still hadn’t heard anything from Bill. Dad had grown increasingly nervous and frustrated as the day dragged on. He began looking up hospitals around Denver online.

People in New York had already begun circulating flyers with names and pictures of missing loved ones.

“Golbitz,” he’d say, “Or Chandler (Luann’s maiden name)?” The nurse asked him to wait, and after calling four hospitals, Dad had found the right one. Luann’s mother came on the line and told us what was going on. Luann had had a C-section.

My father had wonderful timing as it turned out. Not twenty minutes earlier, my niece came into the world. The procedure went fine and both mother and daughter were doing well. My brother came to the phone and talked to Dad while I wondered: Just what kind of world has this child come into?

The next morning, Mom, Dad, my sister, and her three and a half month old son left for Denver. I had to work. It was Wednesday, after all. New Comic Day. Slowly but surely, my customers trickled in. Some wanted to talk about it. Some didn’t.

To my customers and co-workers, I proudly announced I became an uncle again, the night before. Reaction was generally good and pleasant, congratulations all around, but more than one person commented on the state of the world: Is it really such a great place to bring a child into?

I had no answer.

In the weeks and months that passed, I decided my answer was “yes.” There may be those in this world who hate and care nothing for life, who despise people different from them, but, God-willing, those people, however many of them there are, will be taken from this world, so my niece and nephew and all children can grow up knowing such hatred only from history books.

Our nation has been brought together by the hatred that caused the needless, senseless destruction of September 11, 2001. That date will be forever burned into our country’s collective mind. It is as much a part of who we are now as Pearl Harbor and the day Kennedy was shot. It is a day of incredible pain and sadness, but also of strength and resolve that we shall overcome this too, in time. And for my family and I, it is not only a day of intense national pride and mourning, it is the day the newest member of our family was born.

Tuesday, September 11, 2001

Happy Birthday, Charlize Delenn Golbitz

And yes, her middle name is taken from a character on “Babylon 5.” Don’t Ask.