Sept. 11, 2001; 25 years later

I have been watching 911 videos for the past week. Some are new; some I have seen before. 

As much as we like to say we will never forget, that is not completely true. It wasn't until I started watching the moments of that day unfold that I realized I had either forgotten or just put out of my mind how I felt. Of course I remember the event, but the years have diminished the degree of fear and uncertainty that I had felt. The coverage - stories of survivors and families of survivors, photos, and news coverage brought it all back. 

As I watched the videos, the events of that day became vivid one again. All those desperate feelings and anxiety came flooding back. The experience was so disturbing at times that I had to turn it off, only to go back later to watch. It was almost as if I was obligated, as if I owed it to all the people, to really never forget.

Twenty-five years ago, a normal Tuesday morning turned into the longest day. My husband John and I were both getting ready to go to work. He worked for the Post Office. I worked at our local newspaper. We had the television on to catch the morning news and weather when suddenly the news broke; a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York. We watched with intensity as it all unfolded. As the first plane hit the north tower, we were riveted to the TV screen. At first this was thought to be an accident, where a small plane could have gotten lost and crashed. That just didn't seem right. A gaping hole in the building was massive. Flames filled the entire building. The damage was much larger than what a small plan would have made. It was jarring to learn that it was a jet liner filled with passengers. Then as we watched, we saw live on air when the second plane hit the south tower. Clearly, this was deliberate. 

Despite the anxiety we felt, we both had to leave for work. Halfway into my eight-mile-drive to work, the radio announced that a third plane hit the Pentagon. Suddenly tears streamed down my face. I could hardly drive. It was a completely involuntary response to the news that this was bad! I was overcome with emotion. What was happening! Was our country attacked? Who did this? What do we do now? 

When I got to work, I joined one of the paper's owners who sat in front of a television set in a break room. We were glued to the screen despite having to put out the weekly paper that day. We watched the horror unfold...another plane filled with passengers crashed in Pennsylvania enroute to Washington, D.C. Then there was pandemonium as the towers fell, burying so many, including first responders.

This week I remembered all of it. As I watched, I remembered the unthinkable number of people that died that day along with the heroes that tried in vain to save them. And what about the passengers on the planes? They had to know they were going to die. That is unimaginable.

At the end of that day, the coverage continued. The tears flowed easily with each story that was told.

During the next week, I learned that a friend was in Washington, D.C. that day on a business trip. I started taking notes as we talked. He was near the Pentagon just after it was hit. He described the scene as complete chaos. He couldn't fly home because all the planes were grounded so he and another man who lived nearby rented a car and drove all the way home, some 13 hours. I wrote his story for publication the following week. 

Another man, one I didn't know, but who lived in the same town, contacted me afterward. He saw the coverage on television and was compelled to drive to New York because he wanted to help. He called me to talk about what he had witnessed. He worked on the pile trying to help look for survivors. I wrote his story as well.

I was not a fan of President George W. Bush, but this was certainly his finest hour. 

Today I am so grateful that we had a government that was able to lead the country in a supportive, cohesive, way. President Bush was a caring man and that showed through when it was needed most, as he helped bring the country together. 

I will never forget the incredible sense of patriotism that Americans shared with one another during that time. It was almost as if we clung to each other as we shared our fear and resolve. 

That does not exist today. 

Though I didn't agree with the policies of our government then, I never felt betrayed by them. We were a cohesive country because the horror we experienced came from outside our country. 

That is no longer true either. If September 11, 2001 happened today, I have no idea how we would ever deal with it. There is so much division and lack of leadership that I shudder to think how we would cope. 

We need the same kind of resolve now that we had then because with a country at war, an economy that punishes the majority of people, mass shootings so often that the news no longer even covers them, as well as an untrustworthy and incompetent leader who promotes violence and cares only about himself, a change is desperately needed. 

If 911 taught us anything, it taught us how to be strong and that we can come together as a country for the benefit of everyone. We need our allies around the world, many of whom came to our aid during and after that awful day. I sincerely hope we can begin to solve our problems and end our differences. We have one chance - with the upcoming election. We have an opportunity to elect good, strong, ethical, honest and competent leadership again. We are all Americans and we can and must demand better. 

Smalls cat food has gone above and beyond

 

Good companies that deserve to be recognized should be. I am happy to comply. 

This is the case with Smalls, the human-grade cat food I first ordered last summer. 

Their customer service is unmatched in today's fast-paced world, but until last week, I had no idea how unmatched it was. 

I began ordering Smalls when my cat Kenni started showing signs of age. She gobbled her food like every meal was her last. Sally liked it too.

Just to keep score, when I ordered my first sample pack in June, I had only two cats, Sally and Kenni. 

Sadly, Kenni died in December. I decided to keep ordering from Smalls because I believe in feeding good food to Sally. When I sent my order, I also sent an email to announce Kenni's passing, and to customize my order for Sally's favorite flavors.

Last Friday, I was alerted to a UPS delivery. I wasn't sure what I ordered since I shop online often. I was so surprised when I went out to get my delivery. It was a plant, the above pictured Pepperomia plant in a pot with a kitty on it. 

The card read, "Hi Carol, This is Alex from the Smalls team reaching out. I recently heard of Kenni's passing, and I am so sorry for your loss. All of us here at Smalls hope this gift in their memory provides some comfort and hope during this difficult time. With love, Team Smalls."

I cannot express how this gesture touched my heart. 

Kenni was the last of my perfect cat family; Ryan, Kasey, Boo, Rusty, and their mom Timi who gave birth to my girls on April 11, 2007. Initially, I considered finding homes for all these cats, but I couldn't bring myself to part with them. Timi was a good mom and it was such a joy to have an entire cat family to fill my heart. I fell in love with them the moment they took their first breath. And I loved them all until they breathed their last. 

While I miss them terribly, I am thrilled to have Sally, who came into my life a few years ago. She will be four years old next month and although she was a rambunctious kitten, she is growing into such a sweet girl. 

Sally thinks she runs the household, and I am starting to believe it too. She loves feeding time. I am happy to comply, especially because I know I am giving her healthy food.

Thanks so much for all you do Smalls. I'm a fan! 

Spring can be beautiful, but also destructive

I have been watching the calendar since colorful leaves began to fall in September and all through the cold winter days. 

Spring is my favorite time of year and is just about here. Traditionally, the weather teases with freezing temperatures one day and 80º the day after. The transition when winter winds down is a real mixed bag. 

Officially just a week away, signs of spring are everywhere. Magnolia and fruit trees, pictured at right are looking their best. Daffodils and other spring bulbs show off their best colors.

But all isn't rosy with the coming of spring. In addition to the emergence of spring flowers and beautiful trees, the weather can turn on a dime. When it does, it can wreak havoc on everything around.

That was the case earlier this week when a cold front from the north met with warm moist air from the Gulf of Mexico. The result was a series of severe storms. Among them, the worst occurred east of Kankakee, Illinois to northwest Indiana. An EF-3 tornado devastated parts of Aroma Park and Lake Village, Indiana as well as parts in between and well beyond. 

For me, this was personal. I watched the progression of the storm on TV from my Ozarks home. Storm chasers offered riveting video coverage from the formation of massive and multiple twisters to the swirling debris that was once somebody's home. As I watched, I was concerned about the severe storm forecast for my own locale. Thankfully that did not happen.  

But I used to live and work in the Kankakee area. I was intimately familiar with the region. Family and friends were in the path of the storm. I am thankful that  everyone I know weathered the storm untouched, but for so many, that was not the case.

It is heartbreaking to see the devastation left behind. It is almost unthinkable to imagine how anyone deals with this type of loss. Property was the main casualty, but lives were lost as well. 

We have to do better. 

We must take more responsibility as we plan for our future. Arguably, a warming climate has contributed to the severity of storms, as predicted many years ago. And yet, we have done little to thwart the worst effects of climate change. Whatever we have done has largely been undone since Donald Trump assumed the role of President. His wrong-headed policies have gutted environmental protections, cut necessary regulations, and have threatened to destroy public lands long ago set aside. The Trump administration doesn't care about people or the environment. Trump only cares about himself and making more money, evidenced in his mantra, "Drill Baby Drill." That term makes me cringe.

Isn't it time we all wake up and do a better job at managing that little blue dot in the vast blackness of the universe we call home. Our Earth with all her living plants and animals are all we have. And we have already destroyed so much.

Earth Day is a little more than a week away, just two days after the Vernal Equinox or first day of spring. Our lives largely revolve around the seasons. Perhaps we need to try to make them a little more friendly by regulating the pollutants we disperse into the air without a thought and using renewable energy. Perhaps we should make Earth Day 2026 a time of personal and collective responsibility. The consequences are as dire as what we saw Tuesday night in Illinois and Indiana and all the other places that have and will continue to be ravaged by storms. 

Lookie here; its a pineapple

For years I have complained about my gardening difficulties. No more! 

No, I didn't grow an award-winning tomato or the largest pumpkin on the planet. Besides, it is too early for that, since it is just past planting time as I am writing this in mid-May. But, I did have what I consider a monumental gardening success recently - a baby pineapple. 

About four or five years ago I bought a pineapple, which was delicious, by the way. Just for snicks and giggles, I decided to plant the base. I have done this with all kinds of fruits and vegetables, with little, if any success. 

Every summer since then, I put the plant outside on the deck. Every winter I brought it back into the house. It wasn't a particularly pretty plant; it looked a bit like a Yucca with strong spike-shaped leaves, but it was growing and green and looked relatively healthy.

In mid-March, when I was watering my plants, I noticed something in the center of my pineapple plant. I didn't recognize it right away as a baby pineapple, because I never imagined I would ever be able to grow a pineapple, especially on my sun porch. But, there it was. 

I have enjoyed watching it grow. It is almost visibly bigger every time I look at it. I will have to do some reading, to figure out when it should be harvested. I don't want to mess it up by picking it too soon or waiting too long. And I have the feeling, this will be a really sweet treat.

 

Gardening has long been a struggle for me

For the past 20 years of living in Arkansas, I have dreamed of a bountiful harvest. Every year, I begin with more optimism than anyone could ever hope to muster. In fact, from the time the leaves start to fall from the trees, I am stricken with Spring Fever, anxiously awaiting the coming of spring, my very favorite time of the year.

From reading a lifetime of gardening magazines, watching You Tube videos and television programs, trying plants and cuttings from friends, and having pretty good success with house plants, I have really tried to grow pretty flowers and tasty vegetables, but with little success.

I have planted beautiful gardens only to have them produce few flowers and even less vegetables. I’ve planted spring bulbs, perennials that never show up after the first year, and annual flower seeds that never get more than a few pair of true leaves. Something always happens along the way. Animals are a big problem. The deer, which I love to watch, like to eat nearly everything I plant. They are brazen, like the deer I saw on my front porch munching on a pot of petunias. Raccoons, squirrels, and armadillos, not to mention the three stray cats that have adopted me, dig up tulip bulbs, hyacinths, lilies, etc.

I’ve tried composting all my kitchen scraps. I never understood why they seemed to break down so quickly until one day I looked out the window and saw a family of foxes munching on a cantaloupe rind. I still compost sometimes, but realize I will never be making dirt. Admittedly, I think I’d rather give in to buying compost and still feed the foxes. I love watching them.

I’ve learned that soil is a problem, so additives are always necessary. The many trees have taken most of the nutrients out of the soil. And, of course, there are too many rocks. Trees block out sunshine that just the year before was not a problem. Too little rain…On and on, there is always something. I’ve tried to remedy each problem as it came up.

This year, as always, I will anticipate that first mouth-watering tomato from my own backyard.

As previously mentioned in another post, I took a trip at the end of March to celebrate my mother’s 95^th birthday. I had a wonderful time, but was anxious to get back to planning my garden. Then I got sick, some sort of a stomach bug. It seemed to last longer than it should. I just wasn’t bouncing back as quickly as I’d wanted to. But once the antibiotics were out of my system and I finally did get a little energy, my enthusiasm came roaring back.

I had lots of yard work to do, but I was ready. Outside chores had really suffered during my late husband’s illness. He died in the spring last year and I didn’t even give the garden a thought. But this year, I was bound and determined to get the property looking like there were actual people living here and not just animals playing in the tall grass and weeds. I hired a yard guy, who came once. It just didn’t work out.

So I got to it all myself. While trimming some bushes along the sidewalk, I had my first ever encounter with poison ivy. I knew what it was, and I took precautions. I disposed of my gardening gloves, washed my hands and arms with hot, soapy water, even though I was sure I hadn’t touched it. I put my arms inside a garbage bag as I pulled the plant and turned the bag inside out, careful not to get it anywhere near me.

Well, that didn’t work because my right upper arm was covered with red raised bumps and blisters that itched profusely. I used my favorite essential oils, but had to reapply often. I won’t lie; it was pretty miserable. Finally, after about a week I could stop tearing at my skin. Oh boy, that stuff is nasty. Needless to say I am not a fan of poison ivy. And I thought ticks and chiggers were bad – well they are bad – but this stuff!!!

Once healed, I thought I was in the clear to get outside and start working on the garden. I purchased some tomato and pepper plants, tending to them lovingly until time for planting. Finally, I added several bags of soil to the raised bed my husband made for me years ago and prepared a few pots.

I was pretty excited to get my plants in the ground. But the fates stepped in once again as I came down with a nasty respiratory infection. The last thing on my mind as I breathed with the help of an inhaler, was gardening. Gradually though, I started feeling better and was able to nurture my little garden space.

I finally feel good again. I am anxious to enjoy that first tomato of the season, pictured above.

My hot pepper plants are already producing beautifully and I have eaten a few Black Cherry Tomatoes.

I even had a few phlox that I planted last year put on a pretty show for the first time.

High hopes are in the offing. I got a late start but this might just be the best garden I have ever had, though it is early yet and time will tell.

Admittedly, I think I just got lucky. We had lots of rain at just the right time and temperatures have been great. It is now the end of July and there are lots of flowers on my tomato plants. Even the house plants I bring outside each year are doing well, which makes me pretty happy.

Because this is Arkansas and two crops are possible, I added a few cucumber seeds and squash seeds from last year.

I even planted an herb garden. Things are looking up around here and that makes me very happy.

 

My recent trip was magical

Most people like to travel, often thrilled to get away from it all. I do not; I am a home body. My interests and therefore my life, revolves around things I like to do at home, like quilting, tending to my plants, watching birds, and caring for my cats. Nothing makes me happier than the little comfortable niche I have carved out for myself here in Arkansas where I find joy in the small, simple things. I just like looking out the window. It is beautiful here and the pace is slow.

But recently I decided it was time to go home again, to visit my mother who just turned 95, and to see my son and his family, to bond with my grandkids. Never mind the cost. Never mind the anxiety, fear of flying, reluctance for an old lady to travel alone, not to mention my completely non-existent spirit of adventure. It was time and I recognized that.

Despite years of hearing my loved ones clamoring for me to come home to visit, I was steadfast. I don’t travel. But, like a switch went off in my head, I decided it was time. I even started to get a little bit excited, so I booked a flight to O’Hare Airport. When I told my friends and family I was coming, they probably thought I was kidding and would back out at the last minute. I had no intention of doing that. I had made up my mind. It was just a matter of doing a little planning, making some lists, and getting organized—all things I try not to do—in my carefree, retired life.

The last time I was on vacation was in 1997 when my late husband John, who was getting ready to retire, decided we needed to take a trip to Arkansas to meet up with his friend Paul. Paul’s father lived in Jasper, AR. He rode his motorcycle here and he told us we had to see this place. He almost sounded like a vacation planner when he described the area around Bull Shoals Lake, a place I had never heard of at the time. But we felt it too because we kept coming back year after year until 2005 when we moved here.

I haven’t been on an airplane since 1974, when my mother and I visited my grandmother in San Antonio. Grandma was ill and we knew we would probably never see her again. We are both so glad we made that trip.

This was not just a visit with family and friends, but I am thankful it was that too. For me, this trip was so much more.

I decided I didn’t want to make a 9 hour drive. So, when I decided to fly, I didn’t hesitate. I wanted to land at O’Hare. Thankfully, my son Chris offered to pick me up.

In many ways, aviation has paralleled my life. As a child, I remember O’Hare, housing Air Force personnel before it was a commercial airfield. Chicago’s Midway Airport was then the busiest airport in the world. When I was a little older, my parents moved from Chicago to just a few miles from O’Hare, I watched O’Hare grow as we entered into the jet age. And then as an adult and young mother, I advocated for O’Hare expansion over building a third airport in the cornfields between Beecher and Peotone. John and I lived in Beecher for 28 years where we raised our family.

There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to land and take off from O’Hare. After 20 years of fighting for it, I have and always will feel a fondness for the place. I was not disappointed. It was an absolute thrill – magical even.

To land at O’Hare and get picked up by one of the people I love most in the world – my son Chris –was a moment I will never forget.

I so enjoyed spending time with Chris, his wife, as well as my two grandkids. They are pretty grown up now and I am just so proud of the people they have become. It warmed my heart to see the love of this family, in their beautiful home and to get a glimpse of the life they live. It was indeed magical. I have missed so much, being so far away, but I believe regrets serve no purpose. These days, I live for the moment, and I will cherish these moments for the rest of my life.

I married into a wonderful family. John’s sisters and brothers-in-law, both named John, are like my own sisters and brothers. And at the same time, they are also friends. Betty and John used to live here in Arkansas, so when she and her husband moved back to Illinois, I thought I would never see them again. I was so touched that they traveled hours from their new home just to see me. Being with them felt like the most natural thing in the world.

I spent an entire day with Jean, John’s other sister. I got to see where she lives and works. It was wonderful to see places I’d only visualized during our phone conversations. Spending time with family during this trip was indeed magical.

It was good to visit my mother, who has never looked her age. She is in decent health and for the most part takes care of herself. Going back to your childhood home always seems smaller than we remember.

Her caregiver is one of my old friends, who for a time was my sister-in-law. I haven’t seen her in probably 40 years. She threw the birthday party for my mother which is the event that set my trip in motion. Just being with Patty again melted away countless years in my mind. I felt like a teenager again. Tell me that isn’t magical!

I was also able to see two of my first cousins and two of their daughters. It has been so many years since we were able to just sit down and talk. No wedding or funeral, just a good time getting together the way we used to when we were kids at family parties put together by Grandma and Grandpa, the glue that held families together back then. Who doesn’t miss those days? We talked about current goings on, but mostly reminisced about the good ole days. The feeling of being a kid again was pure magic.

And then there were two of my dear friends – those people with whom you share such a special bond – one that stands the test of time, people you rely on to help you get through the hard times, the people you tell your secrets to, and share your hopes and dreams with. I haven’t seen Sherri in 30 years, but once we stopped crying and hugging, it was like I saw her yesterday. There is no other way to describe it than pure magic.

One day my friend Michelle, my partner in our battle to fight the State of Illinois’ plan to build a Peotone Airport, came to see me. We worked so well together for so many years. I call her my friend in the foxhole, since we shared such a tumultuous time together, each of us having the other’s back. When we got together, we talked, and laughed, and cried, and hugged as we reminisced about some of the things we did, the places we went, and people we knew. Our relationship was always like magic as we defeated, at least for the last 20 years, the effort to build that unneeded, unwanted airport in the beautiful cornfields near Peotone.

As I traversed those farm fields, I couldn’t help but think about the countless stories I had written for the newspaper, the people who are no longer with us, the busy life I led when I lived there, and how different things are these days. This place was as much a home to me as the place I now live. It was so familiar. And as I thought about it all, more memories came flooding back. I was a part of this community and I left it behind, with no regrets. I love my home in Arkansas, but I will always be connected to my home in Illinois.

And then for the final magical moment of my trip

As I was waiting to board the plane for my flight home, I thought I saw someone I recognized, a friend from Arkansas. I really don’t know lots of people in Arkansas, so what are the odds that I would be in Chicago with a friend from Arkansas. But sure enough, as I got to my seat, there was Heather, one of the first people I got to know here. I couldn’t believe it. We sat next to one another on the flight home. When we got off the plane, her husband John was waiting for her. More hugs ensued.

It really was a magical trip.

You Tube just makes me happy

Howie

I have long been a television aficionado, and have written about my thoughts on the subject often over the years, in this very blog. There are too many posts to mention here, but for anyone who is interested, just type “television” into the search box at right to check them out.

My television viewing began at a very early age--coincidentally--both mine and that of the industry. I remember well, those black and white shows and movies as our family gathered in front of the round screen in the living room to experience what was then a brand new innovation.

I was only about three- or four-years old when my older brother Bobby and I used to visit our grandparents, just next door, to watch “Lassie,” every Sunday night at 6 o’clock. That was our time. My memories are vague about those days, but I’ve heard the stories my mother tells. She said Grandma made us snacks, often popcorn and apples, and sometimes cheese and crackers. Sometimes, there was a rare treat - iced tea and layer cake with coffee-flavored frosting.

The adults in my family always had a pot of coffee brewing. What a perfect way to use the last of what was in the pot. It was, so to speak, the icing on the cake. I don’t often bake these days, but if I make a cake, you can bet the liquid in the frosting is not milk or cream, but coffee. One taste of it, or come to think of it, the very thought of it, always brings me back to Grandma’s kitchen.

While so many details of those days in Grandma and Grandpa’s house are sketchy, I’ve seen “Lassie” many times in reruns over the years. I loved that show. There was always a lesson to be learned, family was the most important thing, and I was smitten with the way Jeff and later Timmy bonded with what I’ve always believed was the most beautiful dog I’d ever seen.

Lassie was portrayed as a hero, a friend, a loving companion, and the adult in me would have to add, well-behaved and smart.

That show has been so imprinted on me that several years ago I had the occasion to buy a Collie, one that looked just like Lassie. We named him Howie. That’s him, top right, and I swear he was the best dog I’ve ever known.

Today I’m a cat person, but if there was a sable-colored, rough-coat Collie that needed a home, the cats and I would make room without a second thought.

Watch on You Tube

“Lassie” and so many other vintage programs and videos that take me all the way back to the early days of my life can be seen on You Tube. 

 It is the latest addition to my TV addiction.

Watching You Tube videos is my go to these days when I can no longer handle all the bad news and ugly politics that fills the airwaves. I briefly touched on this subject in my most recent post, “Hey there, Hi there, Ho there,” as I related to filling the hours that used to be spent with favorite TV shows, still on hiatus due to the writers’ strike this summer.  

In addition to reliving days gone by, I have used You Tube to study instructions on how to repair this or that. I’ve sought answers to the ever-growing questions that elude me like who was that actor or what was that movie.

I’ve watched videos about the neighborhoods where I’ve lived. Pleasant memories always fill my head and my heart as I ‘travel’ to another place and time. I’ve watched countless quilting videos and learned how to knit socks.

You Tube, now owned by Google was purchased for $1.65 billion in Oct. 2006. It is the second most visited website in the world, only after Google Search, according to Wikipedia. It was founded on Valentine’s Day 2005 in San Mateo CA by Jawed Karim, Chad Hurley, and Steve Chen.

I certainly appreciate their work because today, I use You Tube to seek my own happy place and it does not disappoint.