10 Years - and I remember every minute of it.

I'm about to do something that is very very rare on this blog.

I'm going to be serious.

There will be no pictures. There will be no jokes.

Just memories of a terrible, brutal day.

Come back on Monday and I'll do my damndest to make you laugh your ass off with a post about my latest experience in an adult XXX store.

So, yeah, I'll try to make you laugh on Monday.

Just not today.

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My daughter was born on September 22, 2000.

On the morning of September 11th, I was alone in the house with one of our electricians.

The wife (at the time) and I were putting on a fairly large addition to the house, and I was standing in my newly finished family room watching my brand new Sony 50" projection TV as I got ready for work.

Gloating.

Man, I loved that television.

The construction guys had been working feverishly to try to finish up their work and make the house look presentable for my daughter's first birthday party. A pretty big deal when it's your first child. Well..any child, I guess.

Regardless, it was just me and an electrician in the house.

My wife, a school teacher, had already taken our daughter in with her. My daughter had daycare in the same school my wife taught in - which was extremely convenient and, thankfully, wicked cheap.

As a technical support person, I was on pager rotation that week - so it allowed me the luxury of going in to the office late...in exchange for the possibility of staying up through the night talking idiots through stuff they had no busy attempting to try in the first place.

I was just about to walk into the kitchen when the 'Breaking News' prompt came up.

The news was sketchy...something about a small plane hitting one of the World Trade towers.

I remember saying something like, 'Oh wow' as the news footage started trickling in. There were really no details on it yet..just footage of the smoke pouring out of the building.

I imagined a small Cessna or even prop plane hit it...although, honestly, that seemed like a ton of smoke for a small plane.

I more or less went about getting ready for work, checking the television every so often... as now the reports turned to the small plane possibly being a jet. But, still, not many details.

I remember exactly my position as I watched what enfolded next.

I was standing in the family room, about four feet away from my fantastic new television. The newscasters were going on and on and on about the fire and then - coming in from the side of the screen - the second plane hit.

I knew what I saw.

The second plane hit the other tower and a huge explosion burst out. We all know the footage.

I yelled to the electrician, "DUDE. ANOTHER PLANE JUST HIT."

But..at that time...the newscasters just kept talking about whether it was a small plane or a jet and DID THEY NOT JUST SEE THAT?! They must be on a delay or don't have monitors because they seemed to ignore that second plane.

"HOLY FUCK."

I looked at my electrician who had been wiring my under-the-cabinet lighting in the kitchen but was now peering into the family room, and said:

"That reeks of terrorism."

We both kind of stood there now as the newscasters finally acknowledged the second plane or, at least, that a second SOMETHING appeared to have hit the other tower.

Jesus Christ.

What the fuck is happening.

I picked up the phone and called the office.

My coworker and friend, Craig, answered. Craig was this big, aloof guy but a great friend and funny as Hell.

Craig: "Hello."
Me: "Craig, It's Rodney. Are you watching the news?"
Craig: "No. Why?"
Me: "You won't believe what I'm watching on television."
Craig: "Is it me?"

I laughed.

I'm embarrassed to say it now, but I did. I laughed at that because it was funny.

And, looking back, it was probably the last time I laughed that day.

I told him what I was watching - apparently no one at work had started following the story or, if they had, had spread the word.

But by that time, I needed to go to work.

I left the electrician and hopped into my car - the radio station I always listened to starting their hypothesis and coverage of what was transpiring in New York.

I didn't like what I was hearing.

I picked up my overly large cell phone and called my wife.

"Get Payton. Get her right now. Go home. Stay there."

By the time I got to work, everyone was in a conference room watching a small antennae-driven black and white 13 inch television. The reception was terrible. We couldn't see much through the snow.

But, when it happened, I swear I saw the sway.

I don't know if it was the fuzzy reception or if I saw what I saw...but I saw that first building sway just before it collapsed.

And, just like on the news, we all watched it with a huge delayed reaction.

Shortly after..we really started losing the reception on the television. But not before we all watched that second tower go down.

Two years prior, my wife and I had been standing on top of one of those buildings on a trip to New York. Now, both were gone.

Gone.

Up until this point..I remember my feelings. My reactions.

My wanting to GO HOME. To be with my family and know we were all together.

My daughter was having her first birthday party in a week...there was much to do. Much to keep safe. Like I could do that knowing that day that a lot of people died and didn't need to.

Mothers.

Fathers.

CHILDREN, for Chrissakes.

Children.

I would imagine them on those planes, crouched low with their heads held down while some adult - maybe even a stranger more terrified themselves - trying to console them. Fruitlessly.

Telling them that it was going to be okay..probably knowing full well that it wasn't.

I get angry and heartbroken and my blood boils just thinking about that.

That those kids were hoping for a parent or adult to protect them like a parent is supposed to...but this time there would be no protection. They wouldn't be saved.

Yeah. I remember 9/11.

But a huge part of me wishes that I didn't.