Remembering 9/11/2001: A look Back

Today marks the 10th anniversary of my generation's "date that will live in infamy." As I was preparing to put thoughts to electronic "paper," I reflected on exactly what I was doing on that occasion, as well as where I was relative to the life-journey that was the "before and after" of this day in history.


It was a billiant Myrtle Beach morning, with the promise of left over summer heat and humidity as is often the case during the post-Labor Day doldrums on the Grand Strand. My now-wife, Tis, had just moved in to my humble abode a month or so previously, and, as yet, she had not gotten a job. I recall, that as I headed off to my office/warehouse, (all 1200 square feet of it,) she was just beginning to stir. Just before leaving, we watched the "Mancow" segment on "Fox and Friends," part of our morning "ritual."


When I left for work that morning, I had little expectation that my business, which was one month past its first anniversary would have a lot going on; the end of summer historically leads to about a one month period of "ghost town" here, (although retirees have subsequently "discovered" that it is a GREAT time to come here.)


I am sure of one thing, I was probably anxious, since Tuesday was, even back then, my "big" day for ordering inventory from my suppliers. It was not uncommon for me to complain to Tis, "I HATE Tuesdays!"


What is strange (and I had to revisit some sales reports for that day to recall,) was that that particular Tuesday was busier saleswise than the day before, which, with my little company, was extremely rare. Normally, our niche clientele of that time, (bars and small restaurants,) would all place orders on Monday to replenish from the weekend.


I got into my office about 8 am, and started my regular morning routine of processing the previous day's invoices, calling a few clients to determine their needs for the day, particularly the small "country cookin'" type breakfast and lunch places that always needed pre-lunch deliveries.


Just as I was getting ready to take a walk around my tiny warehouse to make notes of what I needed to order, my instant message tone went off on my computer. It was a message from Tis saying that they were reporting on FoxNews that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. As I recall, I asked a couple of questions via IM about the weather, size of the plane, was it terrorists, that sort of thing.


About the same time, I turned on my portable radio that I kept on my desk. I remember my frustration that almost no radio signal was strong enough to counter the steel structure and sheet metal walls of my little office. The only programming that I could get without static and interruption was the local carrier of "The Howard Stern Show."


Say what you will about Howard Stern, on that day, Howard truly was a journalist. Knowing that his audience was probably unable to view the pictures of the disaster that was slowly playing out on television, Mr. Stern created word pictures from what he was observing on his studio monitors, and in his inimitable fashion, mirroring the outrage that we, as a nation were feeling as events unfolded.


Then, suddenly, another IM from Tis: "OMG there's ANOTHER one!" as she observed live, and in real-time, the second plane augering into the other tower. I recall sending back, "Well, now we know it's terrorists," or something to that effect.


Stern picked up on this on-air about 5 seconds later, as Tis's IM's were confirmed by Stern, clearly taken aback by the horror of what we all were seeing.


My business software indicates that sometime during that day, I placed orders with at least two of my suppliers. While I can remember snippets of the IM's I received and the words of Howard Stern, I have zero recollection of having entered or called in any orders.


The next moment of clarity came when word came that there were several hijackings of commercial airliners. If my memory is correct, that word came down shortly before the first of the two towers collapsed. I clearly recall that in describing the collapse of the first tower, Stern's voice took on some of the unadulterated anger that many of us were feeling.


I believe during this time I probably had two or three brief phone conversations with Tis, and it was obvious to me that we were both in some kind of shock. I made a plan that I would pick her up once I left the office to go out on my deliveries.


Once the second tower fell, almost every client I talked to was running on adrenaline and in something of a fog. This is clear from the fact that many orders for the next day, 9/12, were from the same clients who had ordered in the chaos of that Tuesday morning.


According to my files, I must have completed my ordering and hit the streets with a few deliveries about noon. I stopped at the townhouse and picked up Tis, who was almost visibly shaken. My first stop of the three or four I had that day was at a little bar called Hano's, owned by John Haney, whom I had known since before I ever started my business.


John's significant other, Jane, was working the bar that day, and I doubt if during the time we were there (Tis and I ordered lunch, and I had the first of SEVERAL cocktails I would consume that afternoon and evening,) ten words were spoken in the whole place. I think there were two or three other people at the bar, but the entire place seemed to be operating in silent mode. Hand gestures ordered drinks, requested tabs, and waved goodbye semi-wordlessly.


In my case, it was the first opportunity to see the replays of the disasters that had befallen our nation that morning. What many had seen all day, I had only heard on the radio, and seeing the images for the first time burned many of them into my mind forever. As I ordered my second drink, I saw, for the first time, the towers falling, and the devastation that the terrorsts had wrought seemed, to my mind, to be complete.


Out next stop was at a relatively new client, Planks, across the street from the ocean at 38th Avenue South in North Myrtle Beach. Tom, the owner, had been sampling his own wares, and I don't think I had ever seen him have a drink in his own bar before. After having lunch and a couple of drinks at the last stop, I was getting to the point where I wanted to get this route done and get to my home. Tom quickly signed his invoice, and returned to his rather loud and boiterous conversation with one of his patrons in general detailing all the asses that were going to get kicked after this.


One other thing: Planks was predominantly a game room. Lots of video games, ski-ball, pinballs, and such, but I don't recall any of them being played when I was there that day. Although there was a decent crowd there, probably 15 or 20 folks, just as at Hano's everyone seemed to be operating in silent mode, (except for Tom and his pals who were working up the alcoholic courage to go hunting Osama Bin Laden that very afternoon.)


Next stop was Crawdaddy's, one of my charter clients I had been dealing with since the days when I was "selling air," waiting for my first truck of inventory to be delivered. Bob Hall, the owner, his wife Bev, and their two "kids" Mike and Mickey not only owned the place, but at least one of them was there pretty much all the time. They all hailed from Plattsburgh, New York, and one look at the faces I saw when I walked in there that day, told me they were as shocked and outraged as everyone seemed to be. Again, this was one quick signature, and on to the next stop.


As we got to our last stop, Eddie's Cafe, the feeling that overtook me was one of emptiness. All I really wanted to do was get home to my own little safety zone. As I completed my business there, I suggested to Tis that we order pizza delivery and just settle in for the evening. Normally, all I have to say to Tis is the word "pizza," and everything gets better instantly. Not on this day, however.


Today is ten years from that day. I still own the company that was in its infancy that day, and of course, Tis is now my wife. Hano's has closed and reopened four or five times as four or five things. Bob and Beverly sold Crawdaddy's and moved back to Plattsburgh, while their kids, Mike and Mickey bought a bar of their own, though, sadly, Mickey passed away from an asthma attack, several years ago. Bob and Beverly occasionally come down for a visit, and I've run into them a couple of time at Mick and Mike's, which is still a client.


Planks has also ceased to exist, Tom having gone moderately mad on the gambling boat one night, losing most of the money he had in the bar and trying to kill himself. I've never seen him again. Eddie's Cafe has also gone away, and I have no idea what has happened to the couple that owned that place.


All things considered, I've struggled to keep my business alive, just as our nation has struggled with war ever since that day. In 102 minutes of a bright sunny September morning, life changed forever: A generation's innocence was lost, and while we have persevered as a nation, we no longer have the single-minded unity that we had in the days immediately following Spetember 11, 2001. Who knows if that feeling can ever be recaptured.