Where were you on September 11, 2001? That's a question many are asking this week. Harry and I had just completed an Alaskan cruise with my sister Mieke and her husband Ed. On September 10, our ship ported in Seward and we were flown to Fairbanks, Alaska to finish our trip with a tour of the interior of the state. We had a wonderful evening together! We admired the huge, healthy flowers growing on the grounds at our hotel. We had a fantastic dinner at the Pump House Restaurant. But before dinner we called for a taxi to come to the hotel and asked the cabdriver to show us the highlights of his town. The young man driving the cab had obviously never been asked to do such a thing, and he seemed ill-at-ease as he struggled with the assignment. He offered sparse commentary, talked about the brown fog that plagues Fairbanks certain times of the year, drove by the school, and showed us the local bowling alley. The only "touristy" stop we made was at a monument in a small plaza. Seeing that as our photo opportunity on this unique-in-a-pathetic-way tour, we asked to stop. The cab driver was accommodating and happily snapped a few shots of us with each of our cameras. But then we noticed a raggedy man resting on a park bench...probably homeless, probably drunk...and we asked him to take a picture of all of us. He seemed surprised, but honored, by the request. This man took his time setting up the shot, as he swayed from side to side. Carefully and deliberately he snapped the photos. ALL of them at a slant. Everything about this excursion was hilarious.
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September 10, 2001
Fairbanks cab-driver, Harry, Flora, Mieke, and Ed |
Now, when I look at this photo I see it as a portend of the future. Early the next morning, Tuesday September 11, while getting showered and groomed for the day, we heard the devastating news of the attacks on the World Trade Center Towers. We joined other shocked and silent travelers for breakfast, all eyes and ears tuned to the TV sets, which played and replayed the unbelievable horror. My immediate thought was "I want to be home, close to my kids." But going home was not an option. All planes were grounded. Our land tour progressed as planned, with the bus taking us to Denali Park. Tour guides were silent so we could listen to the news on the radio. In my mind, the incredible beauty of Alaska's wilderness will always be intertwined with the unsettlingly ugly reality of those terrorist attacks of 9-11. The world truly seemed a-tilt.
Our trip continued by train, rolling slowly southward to Anchorage, where we we were put up in a hotel, while we waited for the planes that would fly us home. It was a suspenseful time. We eventually made it home safely, only one day behind schedule. But the world changed that day.
You are not a little boy anymore Peter.
