Six Years Later
Sep. 11th, 2007 12:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
andverygingerA friend asked me today, what it was like to, for the first time, not be in Washington, DC for the anniversary of 9/11. I had to admit to her that it was...unusual. Different. Strange.
DH and I had married in January of 2001, immediately after which we moved to Washington, DC: he had taken a job with a Navy contractor, and so I was along for the ride. We settled into a small (900 sq. ft.) apartment outside of Alexandria, Virginia, and set about our married life. Every morning, he rose early and took the bus to the Metro, and then on to Crystal City, where his office was located. For the first few weeks, I just kind of lingered -- arranged for cable, internet, furniture deliveries, etc. Eventually, I went to work for a temp agency doing the various odd jobs, as I applied to various universities to finish my BA.
On the morning of September 11, I didn't have an assignment. I'd woken briefly to see DH off to work, and then crawled back into bed, planning to enjoy being able to sleep in. A couple of hours later, the phone woke me from a dead sleep. Because DH knew I was sleeping in, I wondered who would be calling me at that time of the morning. (My rule for sleeping in is that no one bothers me before 9 AM on pain of death.) Turns out it was my mom. She asked me if I knew what was happening. When I told her no, she told me I should turn on the TV.
Strangely, I don't think I ever considered it could be an accident. Perhaps, because of the utter Clancy geek that I am, I was struck by the mental images of the ending of Debt of Honor, where a Japanese pilot commits suicide by flying an airliner into a joint session of Congress. There were too many parallels, and my imagination had almost immediately drawn a connection. When the Pentagon was hit, as well as when the second plane into the Towers, my sinking feeling was confirmed.
I'd only ever lived in DC since then; had only ever worked for federal agencies since then. Indeed, one of my last positions was contract work on site at the Pentagon. Everyone there remembered that day as though it had only been the day before; many of my coworkers claimed they could still smell the smoke and the soot, even after five years. They lost friends, family, coworkers that day. Thus, every year on 9/11, remembrance was a big part of daily life.
But I'm working inside a different Beltway now -- Beltway 8, to be specific -- and the mood is considerably different. There's laughter around me, lots of conversation, even an impromptu luncheon in the conference room. My e-mail hasn't been inundated with e-mails from the upper echelons, inviting me to remembrance ceremonies on the grounds; it's all business today. It almost seems as though they don't know what day it is, that it's just another day.
Maybe it is. For most people, anyway.
My current task is to develop a tactical operations plan for a regional, interoperable radio system -- a way that first responders from as far as across the state can respond to an emergency and be able to communicate with each other from the first moment. It's an uphill battle: much like the Departments of Army, Navy, and Air Force, they each have their turf and don't want to share. But I'm reminded on days like today why such a thing is needed. Firemen, police officers, EMS and others responded to the attack that day. Not all of them could communicate without relying on cell phones and "he said that he said" over their own comm systems. Such a need was emphasized again in the aftermaths of Hurricanes Rita and Katrina. I can only hope that, when the next disaster strikes, we can be better prepared.
So...halfway across the continent from DC, from New York, and amidst all the office chatter, I take a moment to remember. It's a private ceremony today, as opposed to all the pomp and circumstance elsewhere. But then, my daily work is also a reminder. Sometimes I forget that.
DH and I had married in January of 2001, immediately after which we moved to Washington, DC: he had taken a job with a Navy contractor, and so I was along for the ride. We settled into a small (900 sq. ft.) apartment outside of Alexandria, Virginia, and set about our married life. Every morning, he rose early and took the bus to the Metro, and then on to Crystal City, where his office was located. For the first few weeks, I just kind of lingered -- arranged for cable, internet, furniture deliveries, etc. Eventually, I went to work for a temp agency doing the various odd jobs, as I applied to various universities to finish my BA.
On the morning of September 11, I didn't have an assignment. I'd woken briefly to see DH off to work, and then crawled back into bed, planning to enjoy being able to sleep in. A couple of hours later, the phone woke me from a dead sleep. Because DH knew I was sleeping in, I wondered who would be calling me at that time of the morning. (My rule for sleeping in is that no one bothers me before 9 AM on pain of death.) Turns out it was my mom. She asked me if I knew what was happening. When I told her no, she told me I should turn on the TV.
Strangely, I don't think I ever considered it could be an accident. Perhaps, because of the utter Clancy geek that I am, I was struck by the mental images of the ending of Debt of Honor, where a Japanese pilot commits suicide by flying an airliner into a joint session of Congress. There were too many parallels, and my imagination had almost immediately drawn a connection. When the Pentagon was hit, as well as when the second plane into the Towers, my sinking feeling was confirmed.
I'd only ever lived in DC since then; had only ever worked for federal agencies since then. Indeed, one of my last positions was contract work on site at the Pentagon. Everyone there remembered that day as though it had only been the day before; many of my coworkers claimed they could still smell the smoke and the soot, even after five years. They lost friends, family, coworkers that day. Thus, every year on 9/11, remembrance was a big part of daily life.
But I'm working inside a different Beltway now -- Beltway 8, to be specific -- and the mood is considerably different. There's laughter around me, lots of conversation, even an impromptu luncheon in the conference room. My e-mail hasn't been inundated with e-mails from the upper echelons, inviting me to remembrance ceremonies on the grounds; it's all business today. It almost seems as though they don't know what day it is, that it's just another day.
Maybe it is. For most people, anyway.
My current task is to develop a tactical operations plan for a regional, interoperable radio system -- a way that first responders from as far as across the state can respond to an emergency and be able to communicate with each other from the first moment. It's an uphill battle: much like the Departments of Army, Navy, and Air Force, they each have their turf and don't want to share. But I'm reminded on days like today why such a thing is needed. Firemen, police officers, EMS and others responded to the attack that day. Not all of them could communicate without relying on cell phones and "he said that he said" over their own comm systems. Such a need was emphasized again in the aftermaths of Hurricanes Rita and Katrina. I can only hope that, when the next disaster strikes, we can be better prepared.
So...halfway across the continent from DC, from New York, and amidst all the office chatter, I take a moment to remember. It's a private ceremony today, as opposed to all the pomp and circumstance elsewhere. But then, my daily work is also a reminder. Sometimes I forget that.
