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This  journal entry was written about 10 years ago (2010-ish) . And have posted it most years since, and I expect I’ll keep posting it year after year. It seems especially relevant to me now.  I spend a lot of time with people in my professional life who are adults, but much younger than me, or in my personal life with my middle school daughter and her friends. It has dawned on me that there is an entire generation for whom 9/11 is simply an event in their history books. That doesn’t mean they don’t take it seriously or think it isn’t important; they just weren’t old enough (or even alive) to remember it or truly understand it. I’ve come to realize that the way they think of 9/11 is likely the way I thought of the JFK, RFK & MLK Jr assassinations or the way I thought of Pearl Harbor – those were just things we memorized for a test. So I keep posting, because what you’ll read below will never be found in a history book. I keep posting so that maybe what happened that day will stay real, and will be remembered as more than just a tragic, life-changing Tuesday morning. 

Another update to this recurring post.. in 2017 I took Mini to NYC for the first time. In all the times I’d visited since the Memorial had been built or since the Freedom Tower had been built, I’d never been down to see them. But two years ago she wanted to see.  We visited the memorial, which overwhelmed me and made me lose my breath a little bit, but it was beautiful and serene. We went to the top of the Freedom Tower, which truly scared me, but when we got to the top, it was the city in all of her glory and I truly appreciated how the Tower is the symbol of strength and resilience that is New York City.  She wanted to visit the museum, but we didn’t, it was and is more than I think I’ll ever be brave enough to do. 

Updated edit for 2020. As we all know, this has been an “unprecedented” year. I cringe a bit at using that descriptor, as it feels like it’s been over-used to the point of being a joke, yet, it’s accurate. September 11th has been on my mind more often than not in this 19th year. In March, things in this country were eerily similar to post 9/11. Everyone was home, airports were closed, first responders and essential workers were heralded as heroes, and for a brief moment in time, most of this country came together with that same 2001 attitude of “We’re America, we got this.” Sadly, that period didn’t last long. There’s a lot I’d like to say about this year, but today’s post isn’t about politics, it is about remembering and teaching. I want and hope that today is a reminder to hug your loved ones, honor those who gave their lives, and most importantly, put humanity before everything else. Don’t make it a day to just have a quick memorial service or look at the horrifying images, don’t let the evil win. Make it a day that counts, and make it a day to put things in perspective and know what really matters. I don’t say these things lightly, as I myself have to work hard every day to keep that all of those things at the front of my mind and heart. Never Forget. 

Original Post:

There was a time when I liked danger. As in a roller coaster or sky diving. Or getting a tattoo or rappelling down a cliff.  Or moving to NYC at age 22 with nothing but a college degree, a couple of connections, and parents who were willing to support me for a couple of months. It was fun, and I was always up for taking on a challenge.

And then came 9/11.

I don’t talk about it much. When I’m here in TN, when the subject or that time of year comes up, I stay quiet.  I get that that day changed anyone who was old enough to know what happened. But no one who wasn’t in NYC or DC or PA will ever get what that day was like.  If I’m with a group that puts two and two together and realizes I did indeed live there then, they ask questions with a morbid curiosity. I get it, it is human nature.  But I generally answer in the shortest way possible and then get the hell away from that conversation.

I was 26 years old. I was at the dentist, with a load of Novocain in the left side of my face. My appointment was finished, and I went to check out. The receptionist told me that two planes had crashed into the Twin Towers.  I remember asking how the heck could that happen…how could you not see the Towers? I remember assuming it was two small planes, like little Cessna’s or something. And she told me it was two jets.

And my stomach was on the floor. My sister & Josh’s offices were about 4 blocks from WTC.  I knew Josh was working from home that day on the Upper East Side but not my sister. This was all at about 9:15 … moments after the 2^nd plane had hit.  I booked it out of the office, in the mid-50s in Manhattan. Everyone was walking around trying to get cell service. I came flying around the corner on Madison Ave and froze. Looking South was nothing but the blackest smoke one can ever ever imagine. Filling the sky.

I remember getting to a payphone because my cell wouldn’t work. I can’t believe there were even payphones still around. (and I remember that by that afternoon, somehow Bell Atlantic had made all the payphones free). My fingers were numb, and I couldn’t find coins. Once I did, I kept dialing and dialing. All lines busy. I remember getting through one time to my sister, she had just made it to her office and they were frantic and leaving. And then we got cut off. She had had told me they were leaving and all they knew was that they had to head north. I got through to my mom in NC and said I had no idea what was going on but I was ok and was going to work.

GOING TO WORK? I look back now and wonder why in the hell I did that. But no one could fathom what the hell was going on. And we were supposed to shoot with Emeril on the next day, so I needed to get in to get that all finalized. Seems so surreal now to think I was concerned with an Emeril shoot.

And I walked the rest of the way to work. As did lots of other New Yorkers. We didn’t know what else to do. This was still before the planes had crashed in PA and DC. I remember standing outside the Fox News building, across the street from Food Network offices, and reading the red news ticker go across the building. Reading the ticker and then looking south and seeing smoke. It wasn’t clicking. It wasn’t real.

At work, most people were there. They were already on their way and didn’t know what else to do.  So I started working. I was still moving forward with finalizing Emeril stuff. We all had TVs on and were listening and watching.  And I will never forget when one of the girls from traffic screamed. The first tower had fallen. Incomprehensible. I don’t think my feet touched the floor when I went over to her desk.

And it was gone. The TV just showed this image that made no sense. That was the first time I cried. And was terrified. And of course the planes had hit PA and DC by now. We didn’t know if there were more coming. It was about this time the management started to send us home. I hadn’t talked to my sister in an hour and had no idea where she was. I couldn’t get through to my cousin who also worked in NYC (but lived in Jersey) but somehow got thru to my Aunt in MA. She had talked to him and knew he was already heading back to Jersey.  I somehow got through to Josh and told him I was coming home.  I remember I had talked to my dad. He’d told me to get water and cash. And I remember telling Josh to go get it since he was home.

When the first tower fell, it took the massive antenna with it that was the main cell service provider. There was virtually no cell service. And land lines were a mess. Subways had been shut down completely. Bridges were closed. Buses were running, but they were cram packed with people the officials were getting out of downtown.

So I walked. What’s funny to me is it was a gorgeous day. It was in the 70s, no humidity, clear blue sky.  It was about a 2 hour walk. And it was surreal. I remember being so glad I’d worn really comfy flip flops. I remember taxis parked on the curb, with their doors open and radios up all the way, so anyone walking by could get updates. Same thing with bars and restaurants. They had doors and windows thrown open. Most weren’t open for business yet, but people just stood in the doors and at the windows watching. At some point on my walk I was almost home, and I got through to Josh. He’d talked to my sister for only a second. We still had no idea where she was, but we knew she’d gotten out of downtown and was alive.

At one point, walking down the middle of First Ave.. there were no cars and there were so many people walking… we just spilled out onto the street. Throngs and throngs of people. I remember thinking it looked straight out of a movie.  And I remember a bus going past me. Heading North.  Packed with people. And as it passed me I just stared. There was a guy riding along the back. Literally standing on the bumper and just hanging on. One of those things that wouldn’t be written about. No one would ever hear about that guy. He’d probably been walking for hours from downtown and had a ways to go to get to the Bronx. I remember thinking it would have been funny if it were any other day. It would have been some whacked out New Yorker out for a thrill ride. But that day it was a desperate attempt to just get home. To safety. Even tho we all knew we’d never feel safe again. Not even at home.

And I finally got home. Opened the apt door. And was hit with the smell of unfinished wood. Bizarre right?  We had ordered an unfinished bar the weekend before, and arranged to have it delivered on the 11^th. And it got delivered. The delivery truck was already almost to the apartment when everything had started to happen, so they just delivered it. It is still out on the back deck, and we’ll never get rid of it.

I remember hugging Josh. But still not freaking out. I remember being methodical. Like, I need to get in touch with so and so and so and so. More stuff about the shoot. That’s what I was concerned with. And I remember just trying to get in touch with family. Of all days.. all 4 of my parents were in different cities. My stepdad was in Atlanta, mom was home in NC. My dad was in CA, and my stepmom was home in Memphis. Josh had gotten several gallons of water. We were terrified the water supply would somehow be threatened.  And then we just sat there. But we couldn’t sit there. We didn’t want to be alone. We needed to be out in the street with everyone else. We were so scared, but wanted to be scared with everyone else.

So, odd as it might sound, we went to the Irish pub next door. And it was packed. And silent. Wall to wall with people drinking beer. No one was drunk. Everyone just sat there stone faced watching TV,  we got a table. And I remember I was starting to shake. And I sent Josh out for cigarettes. I hadn’t had one in a long time. That day, I didn’t give a shit. And I smoked and had a beer or two. We stayed there a couple of hours and then went home.

Sometime in that afternoon I had heard from Shannon. She and Angela had made it home, and they too went to their neighborhood bar. Looking back, I don’t know why we didn’t go down to her apartment. I really don’t. She saw much worse than me. She literally had to run through the streets, just going north to survive.

At some point my boss had somehow gotten thru to me to tell me the offices would be closed the next day. The day we were supposed to shoot with Emeril. And I remember having to cancel some VO sessions and the crew. Random crap like that.  I still have my notebook from that time.. I still have the page.. with my to do list that I’d written on Monday 9/10 for me to do the next day. I still go back and look at the random chicken scratch and phone numbers that I then was writing on 9/11. I will never throw it away.

I remember coming back to our apartment building. I guess it was early evening by now. We went up to the roof. We lived in a high rise. We took pictures of the smoke. There were fighter jets everywhere. Just circling Manhattan. Terrifying yet comforting. I remember there were already pictures up everywhere of missing people. We lived in a part of town where lots of young financial professionals lived. Lots of people who worked down there.

I don’t know how long we were home when we heard a knock at our door. It was my old roommate Opal and her boyfriend Eric. They too just didn’t want to be at home alone. So we all went to a bar down the street. I remember they were just doing happy hour prices all night. There was nothing happy about it. They just knew it was all they could do I guess. Bush had been president 9 mos. I couldn’t stand him. That night tho, I remember watching him on the big screen in that bar. You could have heard a pin drop. And that night, I liked him. I really did. If and when I tell people we went to a bar that night, most think I am the worst human on the planet. They don’t get that no one was there for a good time. Everyone was there bc everyone was terrified. Everyone was there bc they just needed reassurance that everyone else was just as scared. Everyone was there bc they just wanted to be with fellow New Yorkers. Everyone was there bc we knew no one, no one else, would ever ever understand. We had a couple of pitchers, and then we just went home.

I had nightmares that night. I had them for weeks. I still have them now. They are rare these days. But they will come, out of nowhere, and they are vivid. And horrible. I remember that first night my sister calling several times, managing to get through the nightmare phone lines. Just so scared.  I remember waking up the next morning. Hoping it was just a big nightmare. And turning on the TV and knowing nothing more than we’d known the day before. We met my sister and her roommate for breakfast. We bought a NY Times and Daily News. I still have them. I remember we just walked the Upper East Side in a daze. That afternoon we got scared. We could smell smoke. We thought something else had happened. But no, it was the smoke working its way up Manhattan. Acrid. Burning. And I remember seeing Army vehicles. So many of them in a parade down 2^nd Ave. HUGE trucks. They were going to start getting the debris. You know what else? I went to the gym that morning on 9/12. Ran on the treadmill. Cried the whole time. The gym was packed.

I remember my boss calling me to tell me we did have to work on Thursday. I remember contact with our parents being helter skelter bc there was still no cell service and land lines were locked up.

I remember Josh walking me to the bus that Thursday. I usually took the subway, but that day I wanted the bus. I was terrified of being stuck on a train underground. There was such paranoia that every single time someone coughed wrong, they stopped the trains and had the swat team there.

That day, that Thursday. I remember calling my vendors. About VO sessions and stuff. And we all felt so stupid. Who the hell cared about a VO? It seemed so asinine to have to even worry about it.

That Saturday me, Shannon, Josh, her roommate, I think David, and another friend went down to the site. We have pictures. Pictures of bombed out mail trucks still just sitting on the street. Pictures of firefighters changing shifts. Covered in that gray dust. And crowds cheering for them. So thankful for them. And scared for them.  And proud for them.

One of our producers at the time lived a few blocks away from the towers. She had tapes in her apt that day. When she finally made it back to work a couple of weeks later, the tapes still had the dust on them.

There are so many things about that time in NYC that no one knows. Except those of us that were there. For the next 6 mos, no one was ever ever to work on time. You’d get stuck on a train for hours. Just waiting for the next threat to be cleared.  Seeing cops with massive guns became the norm. I mean- like AK 47s. There was a plane crash about 6 weeks later at JFK. We heard the news come on, and we froze. I was at work. And I immediately started crying. We all did. We were convinced it was happening again.  It turned out to be a freak accident. Everyone on board died. It was gut wrenching.

Early that November – at least 8 weeks later- I had a shoot downtown. About three blocks from the site. And I remember the smoke still being so thick. So prevalent. When I got home that night, it smelled like I’d been at a campfire for hours. I still can smell it in my mind.

I remember one morning that December. Watching the Today Show while I got ready for work. And I froze. Matt Lauer was doing a story about purple ties and how they were the current trend in men’s fashion. I am sure one wonders why that story made me freeze. It was the first time in months that there was a story NOT about 9/11 on the Today Show. It was the first fluff, who-really-cares-story, that was covered in the news. The first sign that maybe, just maybe some sort of normalcy would return to our life as we knew it.

Somehow, I knew no one personally that died that day. There were friends of friends – too many too count. But I did not know anyone personally. Nor did Josh, Shannon or David.

It was July 2005 when the train bombings happened in London. We’d come back to Knoxville a few years before.  I remember waking up to that story. And crying. And crying. It was happening again.

That’s it. That’s my story about danger. I no longer want to ride roller coasters. I no longer need to get that thrill of danger. I have had a lifetime’s worth.  I still have the nightmares. I still, and I am not exaggerating, flip out if I hear a plane overhead that sounds too low. Or if I see one flying that looks too low. I literally freeze, and I start to lose my breath and talk myself down.

There’s so much more I could tell. Still stories from that day, that time period that I still have in my head. I don’t doubt for a minute that day changed so many people. I can’t believe I’ve never written about it before now. Someday maybe I’ll share it with others.

A friend of mine used to write a regular blog about things amok in Knoxville.. places to go, things to try, good and bad. (I loved that blog).  Today my blog is in that vein.. though I know mine won”t begin to compare to hers.

Today I’m going to tell you about Cinnebarre. Not all bad, but not all good either.

What IS Cinnebarre?! Is that the burning question most of you have on your mind?  As my friend Tiffany so expertly questioned… is it Cinnabon? It is a barre class? Do you EAT a human-head sized cinnamon roll and then take a barre class? (that is not an awful concept.. am I right?)

Well no, it’s a multi-screen movie theater with a full restaurant and bar. Get it? “Cinne” – I presume – is a reference to Cinema. And “barre” – I presume-  is a reference to a bar with wine and beer, not a barre that ballerinas and fitness gurus lean on while looking in a mirror.  Cinnebarre is a concept owned and operated by Regal Cinemas. There are, I think, currently nine Cinebarres in the United States.  It should be noted that Regal Cinemas was founded and is headquartered right here in good ol’ Knoxvegas. It is currently the 2nd largest theater operation in the States. It should also be noted that the chain was bought by a European entity late in 2017 (and that’s ALL I will say about any company coming along and buying another).

The Cinnebarre here opened in May, so roughly 10 weeks ago? The Knoxville location is not the first one – so one would assume kinks have been worked out in the other already-operating theaters. The idea is that you go to a movie and have dinner at the same time in super comfy chairs with waiter/waitress service. Well, they got the chairs right.

I’ll start at the beginning.

The venue itself is rockstar. It is MASSIVE. Full BIG bar, loads of flat screen tvs. Plenty of high top tables and traditional seating. Big billiards area, and a huge, open second floor arcade. We didn’t go up there, but I immediately sighted one of those human-sized Pac-Man games. Eileen spotted the giant Galaga and immediately stated it was a much better game. (sidenote: she’s *almost* TWELVE. how does she know anything about this game that I barely remember?!)   My immediate prediction is this place will be packed once lake season is over.  Wives out shopping (oh – Cinnebarre is in a mall) and dads killing time with a beer, football and reliving their teenage years.  So, our first impression was a good one.

The instructional video on their website (yes, there is one, and yes, I watched it) indicated to arrive 20-30 minutes prior to your movie start time, in order to get settled and order food. Thus, we didn’t spend much time in the bar/billiards/arcade area. The previously mentioned instructional video indicates that patrons can place orders throughout the movie, yet the menu – also found on the site – instructs “Please visit our service bar if you wish to order items during the feature.”  So, umm.. whats the point of going to a restaurant movie theater if I have to get up anyway? I can do that at any other regular theater. Right? And don’t post a video on your site that doesn’t match the experience. That is plain pathetic and lazy.

So we get seated (seats are reserved when you purchase your tickets). The chairs are Ah-MAY-zing.  Plenty big, full on recliner. Eileen suggested they could add “heat-seaters” (Dottie & Croft- that is specifically for you)  I mean I could have fallen asleep it. Good size “table” top attached to each chair, and it swivels to be in front of you or to the side.

We waited a few minutes for a server to arrive, and she was beyond pleasant. Super helpful, explained things to us. She placed our order on a tablet-like device, so one would assume a fairly fast turnaround, at least for our drinks. So here’s where it got a smidge strange. We placed our order – three burgers, one wine, one Sprite, and one beer. Burgers are not made to order, which is kind of annoying when you’re paying $13 a burger. But we had to pay up front. Wait what? Pay -and tip – at what is basically to a “sit down restaurant” – before food has arrived and/or level of service has been evaluated? That was a bit off-putting, especially when our pre-tip total was over SIXTY DOLLARS. Really? That didn’t include the cost of the tickets.

So we sat back to people watch and wait. There was a flurry of patrons arriving, servers in and out. The man next to Bill, who ordered just before us, received his drink about 10 minutes after ordering. We kept waiting. And waiting.  Then the previews started. Still no food, no drinks.  About two previews in, our food came. Still no drinks. I asked the server who brought our food (not the same one who took our order) if she knew about our drinks. She said she wasn’t sure because the food and drinks went to different windows. K, I kind of knew that part, but oh well. Then our original server appeared, and I requested a knife (which was brought to me immediately), we asked again about our drinks, and I ordered a 2nd wine (this was to avoid having to leave the movie to get a second one).

So at this point the previews are wrapping up. We had not paid attention at all to them as we were rabidly looking for our food and then our drinks. Eileen’s Sprite appeared as the lights were dimming. So we start eating – at which point we realized that eating in the dark is quite awkward – and our food was ice cold.  Not even slightly warm. So cold, expensive, burgers not cooked to order, and only one of three drinks has arrived. At this point we were pretty frustrated.  Bill ran out to the bar and ordered a beer for him and a wine for me.  He missed the first minute or two of the movie, which was highly irritating.  A good 10 minutes into the movie, his beer and one of my wines finally arrive. You guys (Michele Morgan, that’s for you), we were in our seats a full 30 minutes before the previews started. It is beyond me why it took 45 minutes for a beer and wine to arrive. It is not like these are hand-crafted complicated drinks to make.

After eating in the dark, no one comes for your plate. We watched the whole movie with our dirty plates in front of us. Yes, I likely sound petty – but after forking out all that money and a good tip – sitting with a dirty plate in front of you for 2 hours is well, annoying as shit.  I never did get that glass of wine that I’d paid for – I didn’t need, or at that point even want, the drink. But I had paid, with tip, $15 for a mediocre glass of wine, that never came. So yeah, I kind of want that money back. Had that been a regular sit-down restaurant, I would not have been charged nor would there have been a tip involved.

Oh- also a bit of a design fail – the table tops have glass holders. Good idea – a way to prevent spills. But Bill’s beer DID NOT FIT IN THE CUP HOLDER. Really? This is a brand new venue. Who ordered the glasses too big for the tabletops? That kind of drove me over the edge.

To be fair, we have not yet reached out to management to request a refund and/or voucher or something to make right the items paid for but not received, the cold food and the ridiculous turn around time for two drinks. Trust me, if we’re not accommodated you will certainly hear about it. To be fair, everyone we encountered was exceptionally pleasant and helpful. There is hope.

I think Regal needs to sort some things out though:

• don’t ask patrons to pay before they get their food, this isn’t McDonald’s
• figure out a way to continue service through out the movie; the theater is MASSIVE and patrons will be able to see around servers working during the movie
• OR – figure out a system that allows a patron to order from their seat (app, tablet, etc) and be notified when a server is at the theater entrance with their order – at least then someone isn’t missing the movie they’ve paid a small fortune to see
• figure out a way to ensure the food is at least warm when brought to the patron, dish covers maybe? similar to what is used for room service?
• don’t offer drinks too big for the drink holders – honestly – that is just stupid

We decided at some point, perhaps after winning the lottery, we’d give it a second go. However, we learned some lessons.

My tips if you decide to try this place out:

• order the popcorn (it comes in a metal bowl, presentation is adorable) or the meat and cheese tray; more affordable and food temp is not a concern
• order your drinks (alcoholic or not) at the bar and bring in with you; and if you’re getting a beer on tap. don’t get the massive one because it doesn’t fit in your cup holder
• don’t expect this to be a cheap date;  movies are stupidly over-priced and now so is the barely mediocre food – I’d recommend reserving Cinnebarre for special occasions

And now, Adventures in Activewear will return to its normally scheduled programming of weird animal encounters and general candid-camera like life.

So here’s the thing.

Personally, I’m not a huge fan of guns. They scare me. Simple as that.

However, I am not of the opinion that ALL guns should be taken away.

• If you keep a pistol in your home for protection, that is your business, and frankly, your right.
• If you live in a rural area and keep a shotgun on hand to keep coyotes away from your livestock, that is a legit need.
• If you are a hunter, while not my favorite sport, it is your right and you keep the proper guns for hunting prey.

NONE of the above need any sort of automatic weapon that shoots umpteen bullets in mere seconds.

That is where I take issue. The Second Amendment is not the problem – it is the interpretation of the second amendment. Can we all agree that perhaps it needs to be adjusted? The right to bear arms is one thing, the right to bear a weapon of mass destruction is quite another.

I have yet to have anyone tell me why a gun like the AR-15 should be made available to the general public. Please, tell me, why. Why does a regular person need this gun?

That sort of weapon is for SWAT teams, military forces fighting in unimaginable conditions and facing threats none of us can even fathom. That sort of weapon is used for actual warfare, not sport or personal protection.

One thing stuck me about the situation in Florida yesterday. The shooter bought the gun legally. He’s 19. The kid can buy a WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION – legally – but he can’t buy a beer. Something about that statement feels off, right?

There may be some that read this and still somehow see it as an attack on the Second Amendment, and/or may “blame” mental health. I see them as two separate issues, overlapping at best. But for now, that is another discussion.

I’d like to think everyone can agree something has to change. It won’t happen with the current political state in DC.  That statement is NOT directed at any party – it is directed at all the crooked politicians of all parties so focused on their own agenda they are clueless about what their constituents want and need.  The change has to start with the people.

Many of you know I made a post last night that was about the Second Amendment. I was wrong, I should have made it about specific guns. That post accomplished nothing but arguments, which does no one any good. Arguing on social media doesn’t bring change.

There will always be different opinions, different walks of life, different backgrounds and life experiences. But killing kids?  No one wants that.  We have to find the middle ground, and in my opinion it starts with addressing what sort of guns we allow to be available.

Will this blog make a difference? No, not just the words out there on the interwebs. Will this blog make people think about actionable tasks? I hope so.

Start with making a donation to a reputable organization like the Sandy Hook Promise.  Talk to your own children about bullying. Not just about NOT bullying, but about fellow students. Are there any kids in their own classes who seem to be left out? Why are they left out? How can those outliers be helped? Research legit Anti-Bullying groups (this list from a magazine directed at young people popped up with a simple Google search). Contact your representatives. Contact your senators. 

As for me, I’m not just sitting here writing and expecting to make some massive change. I am, however, angry. And expressing what I hope are rational thoughts. And I am in the process of doing each of the steps I list as actionable items.

If at least one other reader does something real, I’ll take that as a start.

I wrote this about eight years ago, and I started sharing it several years ago, on the anniversary.  This day, this time of year, is always a challenge for me. A challenge to keep it together, to get through the day, to push the memories to the back of my mind. They are there, they are always there, and they will never fade. Never forget. Never.

There was a time when I liked danger. As in a roller coaster or sky diving. Or getting a tattoo or rappelling.  Or moving to NYC at age 22 with nothing but a college degree, a couple of connections, and parents who were willing to support me for a couple of months. It was fun and I was always up for taking on a challenge.

And then came 9/11.

I don’t talk about it much. When I’m here in TN, when the subject or that time of year comes up, I stay quiet.  I get that that day changed anyone who was old enough to know what happened. But no one who wasn’t in NYC or DC or PA will ever get what that day was like.  If I’m with a group that puts two and two together and realizes I did indeed live there then, they ask questions with a morbid curiosity. I get it, its human nature.  But I generally answer in the shortest way possible and then get the hell away from that conversation.

I was 26 years old. I was at the dentist, with a load of Novocain in the left side of my face. My appointment was finished and I went to check out. The receptionist told me that two planes had crashed into the Twin Towers.  I remember asking how the heck could that happen…how could you not see the Towers? I remember asking or assuming it was two small planes, like little Cessna’s or something. And she told me it was two jets.

And my stomach was on the floor. My sister & Josh’s offices were about 4 blocks from WTC.  I knew Josh was working from home that day on the Upper East Side but not my sister. This was all at about 9:15 … moments after the 2^nd plane had hit.  I booked it out of the office, in the mid-50s in Manhattan. Everyone was walking around trying to get cell service. I came flying around the corner on Madison Ave and froze. Looking South was nothing but the blackest smoke one can ever ever imagine. Filling the sky.

I remember getting to a payphone bc my cell wouldn’t work. I can’t believe there were even payphones still around. (and I remember that by that afternoon, somehow Bell Atlantic had made all the payphones free). My fingers were numb and I couldn’t find coins. Once I did, I kept dialing and dialing. All lines busy. I remember getting through one time to my sister, she had just made it to her office and they were frantic and leaving. And then we got cut off. She had had told me they were leaving and all they knew was that they had to head north. I got through to my mom in NC and said I had no idea what was going on but I was ok and was going to work.

GOING TO WORK? I look back now and wonder why in the hell I did that. But no one could fathom what the hell was going on. And we were supposed to shoot with Emeril the next day, so I needed to get in to get that all finalized. Seems so surreal now to think I was concerned with an Emeril shoot.

And I walked the rest of the way to work. As did lots of other New Yorkers. We didn’t know what else to do. This was still before the planes had crashed in PA and DC. I remember standing outside the Fox News building, across the street from Food Network offices, and reading the red news ticker go across the building. Reading the ticker and then looking south and seeing smoke. It wasn’t clicking. It wasn’t real.
At work, most people were there. They were already on their way, and didn’t know what else to do.  So I started working. I was still moving forward with finalizing Emeril stuff. We all had TVs on and were listening and watching.  And I will never forget when one of the girls around the corner from my desk screamed. The first tower had fallen. Incomprehensible. I don’t think my feet touched the floor when I went over to her desk.

And it was gone. The TV just showed this image that made no sense. That was the first time I cried. And was terrified. And of course the planes had hit PA and DC by now. We didn’t know if there were more coming. It was about this time the management started to send us home. I hadn’t talked to my sister in an hour and had no idea where she was. I couldn’t get through to my cousin who also worked in NYC (but lived in Jersey) but somehow got thru to my Aunt in MA. She had talked to him and knew he was already heading back to Jersey.  I somehow got through to Josh and told him I was coming home.  I remember I had talked to my dad. He’d told me to get water and cash. And I remember telling Josh to go get it since he was home.

When the first tower fell, it took the massive antenna with it that was the main cell service provider. There was virtually no cell service. And land lines were a mess. Subways had been shut down completely. Bridges were closed. Buses were running, but they were cram packed with people the officials were getting out of downtown.

So I walked. What’s funny to me is it was a gorgeous day. It was in the 70s, no humidity, clear blue sky.  It was about a 2 hour walk. And it was surreal. I remember being so glad I’d worn really comfy flip flops. I remember taxis parked on the curb, with their doors open and radios up all the way, so anyone walking by could get updates. Same thing with bars and restaurants. They had doors and windows thrown open. Most weren’t open for business yet, but people just stood in the doors and at the windows watching. At some point on my walk I was almost home, and I got through to Josh. He’d talked to my sister for only a second. We still had no idea where she was, but we knew she’d gotten out of downtown and was alive.

At one point, walking down the middle of First Ave.. there were no cars and there were so many people walking… we just spilled out onto the street. Throngs and throngs of people. I remember thinking it looked straight out of a movie.  And I remember a bus going past me. Heading North.  Packed with people. And as it passed me I just stared. There was a guy riding along the back. Literally standing on the bumper and just hanging on. One of those things that wouldn’t be written about. No one would ever hear about that guy. He’d probably been walking for hours from downtown and had a ways to go to get to the Bronx. I remember thinking it would have been funny if it were any other day. It would have been some whacked out New Yorker out for a thrill ride. But that day it was a desperate attempt to just get home. To safety. Even tho we all knew we’d never feel safe again. Not even at home.

And I finally got home. Opened the apt door. And was hit with the smell of unfinished wood. Bizarre right?  We had ordered an unfinished bar the weekend before, and arranged to have it delivered on the 11^th. And it got delivered. The delivery truck was already almost to the apartment when everything had started to happen, so they just delivered it. It is still out on the back deck, and we’ll never get rid of it.

I remember hugging Josh. But still not freaking out. I remember being methodical. Like, I need to get in touch with so and so and so and so. More stuff about the shoot. That’s what I was concerned with. And I remember just trying to get in touch with family. Of all days.. all 4 of my parents were in different cities. My stepdad was in Atlanta, mom was home in NC. My dad was in CA, and my stepmom was home in Memphis. Josh had gotten several gallons of water. We were terrified the water supply would somehow be threatened.  And then we just sat there. But we couldn’t sit there. We didn’t want to be alone. We needed to be out in the street with everyone else. We were so scared, but wanted to be scared with everyone else.

So, odd as it might sound, we went to the Irish pub next door. And it was packed. And silent. Wall to wall with people drinking beer. No one was drunk. Everyone just sat there stone faced watching TV,  we got a table. And I remember I was starting to shake. And I sent Josh out for cigarettes. I hadn’t had one in a long time. That day, I didn’t give a shit. And I smoked and drank. We stayed there a couple of hours and then went home.
Sometime in that afternoon I had heard from Shannon. She and Angela had made it home, and they too went to their neighborhood bar. Looking back, I don’t know why we didn’t go down to her apartment. I really don’t. She saw much worse than me.  She literally had to run through the streets, just going north to survive.

At some point my boss had somehow gotten thru to me to tell me the offices would be closed the next day. The day we were supposed to shoot with Emeril. And I remember having to cancel some VO sessions and the crew. Random crap like that.  I still have my notebook from that time.. I still have the page.. with my to do list that I’d written on Monday 9/10 for me to do the next day. I still go back and look at the random chicken scratch and phone numbers that I then was writing on 9/11. I will never throw it away.

I remember coming back to our apartment building. I guess it was early evening by now. We went up to the roof. We lived in a high rise. We took pictures of the smoke. There were fighter jets everywhere. Just circling Manhattan. Terrifying yet comforting. I remember there were already pictures up everywhere of missing people. We lived in a part of town where lots of young financial professionals lived. Lots of people who worked down there.

I don’t know how long we were home when we heard a knock at our door. It was my old roommate Opal and her boyfriend Eric. They too just didn’t want to be at home alone. So we all went to a bar down the street. I remember they were just doing happy hour prices all night. There was nothing happy about it. They just knew it was all they could do I guess. Bush #2 had been president 9 mos. I couldn’t stand him. That night tho, I remember watching him on the big screen in that bar. You could have heard a pin drop. And that night, I liked him. I really did. If and when I tell people we went to a bar that night, most think I am the worst human on the planet. They don’t get that no one was there for a good time. Everyone was there bc everyone was terrified. Everyone was there bc they just needed reassurance that everyone else was just as scared. Everyone was there bc they just wanted to be with fellow New Yorkers. Everyone was there bc we knew no one, no one else, would ever ever understand. We had a couple of pitchers, and then we just went home.

I had nightmares that night. I had them for weeks. I still have them now. They are rare these days. But they will come, out of nowhere, and they are vivid. And horrible. I remember that first night my sister calling several times. Just so scared.  I remember waking up the next morning. Hoping it was just a big nightmare. And turning on the TV and knowing nothing more than we’d known the day before. We met my sister and her roommate for breakfast. We bought a NY Times and Daily News. I still have them. I remember we just walked the Upper East Side in a daze. That afternoon we got scared. We could smell smoke. We thought something else had happened. But no, it was the smoke working its way up Manhattan. Acrid. Burning. And I remember seeing Army vehicles. So many of them in a parade down 2^nd Ave. HUGE trucks. They were going to start getting the debris. You know what else? I went to the gym that morning on 9/12. Ran on the treadmill. Cried the whole time. The gym was packed.

I remember my boss calling me to tell me we did have to work on Thursday. I remember contact with our parents being helter-skelter bc there was still no cell service and land lines were locked up.

I remember Josh walking me to the bus that Thursday. I usually took the subway, but that day I wanted the bus. I was terrified of being stuck on a train underground. There was such paranoia that every single time someone coughed wrong, they stopped the trains and had the SWAT team there.

That day, that Thursday. I remember calling my vendors. About VO sessions and stuff. And we all felt so stupid. Who the hell cared about a VO? It seemed so asinine to have to even worry about it.

That Saturday me, Shannon, Josh, her roommate, I think David, and another friend went down to the site. We have pictures. Pictures of bombed out mail trucks still just sitting on the street. Pictures of firefighters changing shifts. Covered in that gray dust. And crowds cheering for them. So thankful for them. And scared for them.  And proud for them.

One of our producers at the time lived a few blocks away from the towers. She had tapes in her apt that day. When she finally made it back to work a couple of weeks later, the tapes still had the dust on them.

There are so many things about that time in NYC that no one knows. Except those of us that were there. For the next 6 mos, no one was ever ever to work on time. You’d get stuck on a train for hours. Just waiting for the next threat to be cleared.  Seeing cops with massive guns became the norm. I mean- like AK 47s. There was a plane crash about 6 weeks later at JFK. We heard the news come on, and we froze. I was at work. And I immediately started crying. We all did. We were convinced it was happening again.  It turned out to be a freak accident. Everyone on board died. It was gut wrenching.

Early that November – at least 8 weeks later- I had a shoot downtown. About three blocks from the site. And I remember the smoke still being so thick. So prevalent. When I got home that night, it smelled like I’d been at a campfire for hours. I still can smell it in my mind.

I remember one morning that December. Watching the Today Show while I got ready for work. And I froze. Matt Lauer was doing a story about purple ties and how they were the current trend in men’s fashion. I am sure one wonders why that story made me freeze. It was the first time in months that there was a story NOT about 9/11 on the Today Show. It was the first fluff, who-really-cares-story, that was covered in the news. The first sign that maybe, just maybe some sort of normalcy would return to our life as we knew it.

Somehow, I knew no one personally that died that day. There were friends of friends – too many too count. But I did not know anyone personally. Nor did Josh, Shannon or David.

It was July 2005 when the train bombings happened in London. We’d come back to Knoxville a few years before.  I remember waking up to that story. And crying. And crying. It was happening again.

That’s it. That’s my story about danger. I no longer want to ride roller coasters. I no longer need to get that thrill of danger. I have had a lifetime’s worth.  I still have the nightmares. I still, and I am not exaggerating, flip out if I hear a plane overhead that sounds too low. Or if I see one flying that looks too low. I literally freeze, and I start to lose my breath and talk myself down.  

There’s so much more I could tell. Still stories from that day, that time period that I still have in my head. I don’t doubt for a minute that day changed so many people. I can’t believe I’ve never written about it before now. Someday maybe I’ll share it with others.

I don’t necessarily have writer’s block.

Most of my posts revolve around the hilarity/insanity of my day-to-day life, which generally means I have endless topics from which to choose. But when these rare periods of normalcy come about, my fingers freeze on the keyboard.

So in lieu of a goofy tale, I took to FaceBook to hunt down topic ideas.

oh my.

Have you MET my friends and family? #ohwait

Samples of suggested topics:

• Eggs. Yes. Eggs.
  • not shockingly, I’m related by blood to the owner of that idea
• Weird Coworkers & Duck-Billed Platypus
  • chances are good that the latter idea suggested by a coworker
• Red Sox/Yankees
  • all kinds of fun with this one, from Sox and Yankees fans alike #JeterIsDone; #BothTeamsSuckRightNow
• Air Travel
  • I feel like that is an invitation for either seriously Bad Karma or for a Delta Mobster to come track me down and end my days 
• The effects of wine AND how to eat clean
  • I am a living oxymoron
• Bigly.
  • all.the.words (do we laugh or do we run away in horror?!)
• Mothers Day
  • I got to a one-day reprieve from poop-scooping! (thank you Bill!) #DontTellHimIToldYouGuys
• Multiple suggestions from friends that I have known for 25+ years
  • first off this is a miracle since none of us are past the age of 23
  • we’d probably all lose our jobs and kids if I told any tales of our Memphis Days
  • but just for fun I made the picture shared on FB the featured image.. I bet a lot of you guys came to read when you saw that little gem!  

OK actually – we heard that song the other day in the car with Mini!! I don’t think she was all that impressed, but I sang along in the front seat anyway. And yes, I still know every word. I own my love for cheesy pop music.  (Somewhere in New Jersey, Rick Hankey is having heart palpitations that he is related to me). 

Wanna know what I did again?
I registered. For St. Jude Marathon. Again.

Just like I have the last couple of years, and for various reasons (either nagging injury or just plain lack of discipline/training on my part) I’ve bailed.  But not this year. I think for the first time in a long time, my head is in the right place as far as nutrition and fitness. And the other day a memory popped up on FB that was from my last full marathon in 2014 – oh Lord THAT is a story in itself. Remind me to tell y’all later.

So, I’m signed up at Silver Fundraising Level ($1500). You can be sure I’ll be bugging you for at least $10.  I know I know 150 people willing to give me ten bucks right?!  Bill is considering the half.  One of my BFF’s from growing up is also doing the full.  I’ve got seven months to train, and get stronger. I know there’s a certain tall blond coach out there talking to herself in her head saying “and faster! you gotta get faster!” .. we’ll see if that part comes to fruition.

So enough about me. This race isn’t about me. It is about St. Jude. And about kids. And about Memphis. And what that hospital does for kids & their families, and the impact that hospital has on that town. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it justice with words on a blog, but give me a few days and I’ll take a stab at it.

In the meantime, all of you out there are the ones who have to help hold me accountable. Don’t let me bail.

And of course, feel free to start donating.

I honestly have no idea the last time I drove a go-kart. Probably back in early high school when we frequented the Putt-Putt on Summer Ave in Memphis Bartlett.  But today – oh yes – there were go-karts. Even better, they were INDOOR. Inside of an old Kroger (seems to me a genius idea to do with a giant space like an old grocery store… so why oh why did I not think of it first)?

We had attempted this place during Spring Break, which of course was a #fail since 95% of our third of the state was on the same break. Or so we thought. After today we realized that this place has regulars. Like Norm at Cheers. Or for that matter, like me at Aubrey’s. A gang of scraggly guys, all ages and shapes, and all in major need of a shower and shave. I’m somewhat surprised these guys didn’t drive right in in their own go-karts, vanity plates and all. This place full on-races, qualifying and grand-prix and possibly their own Winston Cup.

Oh – “this place” is called Veloce. Don’t ask me how to pronounce it.

Our little totaled four girls ages nine and ten, and two boys ages seven and eight. All super experienced drivers. Plus me, another mom and a super-tall dad.

There were kid cars maxing out at 25mph, and adult cars maxing out at 50mph.  Eileen actually qualified for the adult kart since she’s part giraffe, but no way would I let her in on that 50mph track!

Once we’d paid up (just one kidney each), the race track guy instructed the kids to go put on clean head socks. I look at fellow parentals utterly confused, just as the children bolt over to the shelf of clean head socks.  How the hell do these kids know what a head sock is?! And why do they know where they are and how to put them on? Before I can finish being baffled, the kids have fastened on their helmets over their clean head socks and are strapped into their assigned kart.  These are the moments when I question who has allowed me to keep this small human alive.

And then they were off, Eileen leading the charge. And they totally went for it! It was hilarious. So as they were racing, it was the adults turn to suit up! Thank goodness the kids had demonstrated how to use this head sock.

The hilarious thing about this picture ^^ is that fellow dad Dave and I have known each other since we were 18, having met at COLLEGE ORIENTATION the summer before we started our Freshman year. If you had told our 18year old selves that 20+ years later, our girls would be best friends and we’d be at a race track putting on head socks, we’d have laughed in your face and returned to our keg stands.

For the record, I am not a fan of a head sock. I now have even more respect for Danica Patrick, as these things are itchy, smelly, and make one’s whole head prickle with sweat. I’m also leery of how clean (or not) this thing was.

The kids wrapped up and were shouting with glee and ohmygawdthatwassoooawesome.  I, of course, was hollering at Eileen through my muzzle of a helmet + headsock to come get my phone because all of this had to be documented. If ever there was an adventure in activewear, this would be it. Just in the knick of time she got said phone and scooted out of the way just before I would have smacked into her shin.  I was all excited to be first. I was gonna ROCK this.

Or, not.

I may mimic Ms. Patrick when I’m out on I-40 speeding past all the mini-vans, but apparently not so much when on an actual racetrack.  I started first, and ended last. In fact, my time was only :04 faster than Eileen’s… and her car was 25mph slower than mine.

But who cares? It was so much stinkin fun! It was hilarious. I spun out twice, once on accident and then on purpose because it was so fun. Dave and Michele left me in their dust, and I think once I almost killed Dave when I stopped short and he had to swerve around me as he was lapping me.  My whole face shield thing started steaming up bc I was laughing and breathing so hard through that head sock I was creating a sauna in my head.

When it was all said and done, we had seven laps of epic fun. I highly recommend go-karts for a stress reliever. Who needs to be an adult when you’re on a race track? And if you need a buddy, I still have two rounds left on my ticket.  Wear your active wear.

And if you watch and don’t blink, you’ll see Eileen whiz by and wave.