nmah87.xml

nmah87.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-07-18

I work for AT&T Government Solutions. I was in my DC office when I heard about the World Trade Center. By now I am sure we all know that surreal feeling that we can't believe what we are seeing. At first we thought it was an accident. Then we heard that the Pentagon had been hit. One of my co-workers said, very quietly, "My wife works there."

My sister works one block from the White House. She was forcibly evacuated. Not knowing what was happening, I didn't want to be separated from her. Since the roads were jammed and the Metro frozen, we decided to walk ten miles home to Alexandria.

What a beautiful day it was! A golden-blue day more perfect than perfect. We could clearly see the billows of black smoke rising. We walked out amid a stream of people. What impressed me about them was their calm. We didn't know what was happening. We didn't know if there was attack on the United States. Yet everyone was quiet and calm.

I live about five miles from the Pentagon. We stood on the verge of 395 on the Pentagon grounds with the news crews and little groups of servicemen and women, watching the Pentagon burn. I will never forget that image as long as I live. The beautiful, sparkling day, the huge shroud of acrid black smoke rising up behind the Pentagon and reaching into the sky, the quiet, calm people with us. All the flags flew in the strong breeze. A line popped into my head "...And our flag was still there."

At that moment I realized that nothing would be the same for us, for all of us. That in a moment the whole world had changed. But even more strongly, I was convinced that whatever we faced, we would be all right.

I have the flag that covered my father's coffin. He was a veteran of WWII, a bombardier with the Fifteenth Air Force, and he was also called up during the Korean War. I unwrapped the flag for the first time and hung it out of the building. I knew what my father would have said, and that he would have approved.

I know how my father felt about the flag all his life. He always stood to attention and saluted when it passed, keeping his eyes fixed on it. Patriotism was not something he spoke about. He had fought for it. He had been prepared to die for it. It was how he lived. He had said to us time and time again that we children did not understand how fortunate we were, nor did we understand the responsibility that being American placed upon us. In the past, I thought nothing of it. All that we have enjoyed, I took for granted.

We wave our flag now, and we see it prominently displayed and talked of. But I remember my father's eyes when he looked at the flag. I remember his silent commitment, the promise to his country to be there when called, a promise that he kept.