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About This Author
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We Must Still Be Bold or Where Were You? Where Were You?
by Marilyn Mackenzie
Once people asked, "Where were you when JFK died?" That was the most tragic recent memory of our country. Then six years ago, the unthinkable happened, and the new question became, "Where were you on September 11, 2001?" Or as the Alan Jackson lyrics ask, "Where Were You (When the world stopped turning)?"
Every time I hear that Alan Jackson song, my eyes tear up. But I want to hear it anyway. I want to remember, not only the tragedy but the way people came together as one on that day and in the weeks to come.
Here is a link for the Alan Jackson lyrics: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/alanjackson/wherewereyouwhentheworldstoppedturnin...
And if you've never heard him tell the story about how that song came to be, here's what he told Christianity Today: http://www.christianitytoday.com/tc/2003/001/14.14.html
Where was I? I was just about to leave the house to go to work at our local newspaper. Here is my story:
On September 11, 2001, I worked for a local mid-sized newspaper in Texas. At the time, I was the editorial assistant. I was the first one in the newsroom each day.
That day, I was running a bit later than usual in leaving my house. I saw the first plane hit the tower just as I was leaving for work. At the time, I didn't know it was anything except an accident, so I left my son sleeping and went on to work. I did know that this would be big news, even for our local newspaper.
As I arrived at work, I did what I did each morning. I turned on the lights of the newsroom. There were other newspaper employees already in the classified and distribution departments. As I quickly turned on the TV to CNN News and the police scanners to local police channels, those other employees must have seen the difference in my countenance. Perhaps they realized that I had not even dropped off my purse at my desk, nor had I headed for the break room to get that first cup of coffee before turning on the news. As a result, they all came to see what I found so interesting. Then the second plane hit the tower.
Our managing editor usually arrived at work about 10 or 10:30 a.m. That day, he arrived earlier than usual, and asked that I round up every reporter and photographer - even those who were scheduled for the day off. Each one of us were given persons to contact. Ours was a local newspaper, and our focus would continue to be a local one. But the editors and publisher wanted to know how our local businesses and governments were affected by this and how they were responding.
I was asked to contact some local government officials and some bank officials. While they would not disclose any changes or additions to their security procedures (and I'm not sure they HAD any at that time), they were all eager and willing to pray. I prayed with quite a few people over the phone that day.
One reporter behind me was watching this, and after I hung up from my third call that had resulted in praying, he said, "Hey, I'm Catholic. How come no one wants to pray with me?"
I checked in with my son who was at home that day. He was 17, but he was still my first concern. I asked if he wanted to join me at the newspaper or if he wanted me to come home to be with him. He assured me that I was where I needed to be and that he would watch from home.
Prayer vigils were arranged for that night, and although there was no way to get the word out to anyone, people were drawn to churches. Because the editors and publisher knew about my faith, they asked if I might report on one prayer vigil, and I readily agreed.
I arrived at the church just minutes before prayer was scheduled to begin. When I arrived, there were probably 50 people in attendance - some who regularly attended that church, and some who had contacted the newspaper asking if we knew of any prayer vigils scheduled.
The pastor began praying, then urged any who felt led to pray to do so. One after another, most likely even those who might not normally have been comfortable offering pubic prayers, each one prayed aloud for our community, for our country, for the world. We all sat with our eyes tightly closed, so we were not aware that as we prayed more and more people poured into the church. About ninety minutes later when the pastor gave the benediction, I looked around the church and realized that it was packed. I found out that many had just been driving by and saw the cars and were drawn to come and pray.
On the courthouse steps the next day, our county officials prayed with community members. Then on Friday, in our town of 25,000 about 1,000 people showed up to sing patriotic songs and to pray. One businessman had donated flags for everyone to wave, and do you know that there were just enough for every man, woman and child to have one? Another businessman had donated candles so we could sing and pray in the dark as long as we chose by the light of those candles. Again, there were just enough candles for that big crowd. Had God told these men how many flags and candles to provide?
For a short while in the history of our country, tragedy brought us together and we were of one accord.
Soon, I had to write. I wrote a poem. Many people in our county wrote poems, and for the first time ever our newspaper published them. Every Sunday, we had a special section for almost a year where people could share their thoughts about this tragedy in poetry form.
Next I wrote this: | |  | We Must Be Bold  (E)
People are talking more since Sept. 11. Are writers writing more? This one is.
#251691 by Kenzie   |
And two years later, I wrote: | | Grow On, America (E)
We're not united as we were immediately after the tragedy that touched us all.
#988256 by Kenzie |
Today is September 11, 2007. I think we must find that common thread that joined us six years ago. We must, if we expect our country to survive.
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© Copyright 2007 Kenzie (kenzie at Writing.Com).
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