A Different 9/11 Story



The greatest security filing cabinets in the world.



I'm going to tell you a story about 9/11 that you haven't heard. It's not about lives lost, or anything emotional unless you count pride as an emotion. It's a story about my dad, and the design he created that survived the attack on the Pentagon.

My dad in an engineer who designs locks, safes, vaults, and government security furniture. So picture this:

It's September 11, 2001 and a plane has just crashed into the Pentagon building. Smoke and fire ensue. Panic erupts. And a cascade of papers confetti the grounds as classified documents scatter from desks, offices, and file cabinets; papers that were never meant to be seen by people outside the Pentagon's walls.

A group quickly began gathering the scraps of debris littering the grounds. They sorted information and catalogued documents as they collected the papers spilled from security drawers.

But not all the cabinets were split open in the attack. The security filing cabinets my dad designed and built withstood a plane crashing into the building. They sustained damage; there were dings and dents galore. But the locks and frame held. The top secret papers inside were still secured. The filing cabinet held together so well, in fact, that they finally had to use the jaws of life to open them.

There are so many smaller stories surrounding the tragic events of that day. I like to think of this one because it provides a sense of pride in my dad's creations rather than the overwhelming sadness that is inevitable when we remember September 11th. It's just one more story.

Background Music

My daughter just began playing the trumpet. She knows five notes, though they rarely sound the same when she plays them. I listened to her practice last night, over and over, getting frustrated that she wasn’t playing them right and that her C sounded the same as her G. She is already willing to give up. I can tell that Band will not play a prominent role in her future.

Regardless, the struggled notes that flatulated from her trumpet took me back. Her brother sounded just the same when he began learning the trumpet. Every new musician does. But what I like about trumpet is that the beginning blurts of sound do not pierce my ear with shrillness. I don’t mind listening to wavering notes and loud blasts of air. In fact, I rather enjoy it. I love music and remember learning to play my flute. It was just as awkward for me as it is/was for my children. My daughter hasn’t learned patience yet, nor has she realized that all musicians start out this way.

To keep her from quitting, I went upstairs and got my old flute. I brought it downstairs and played those first five notes with her, making the lesson a duet. It took me back, back, back, to my days of lessons and recitals.

I was an excellent flutist. I practiced more than any child needed to practice. I loved the sounds I could create, and loved mastering the technical difficulty of advanced classical pieces. The only thing I didn’t love was performing. Terribly shy, I froze in front of people. As long as I could play unwatched, I was fine. But playing before an audience was torture.

My daughter and I finished up a few sets of scales and she was ready to call it a night. I was ready for her to, too, because by that point, I’d dragged out my old music and couldn’t wait to see if I could still play it. I could! I was thrilled by my trills and played song after song. And then I wondered – did my mother ever miss hearing me play? I’d never thought about it before, but my flute must have been the background music of her life for quite a while. I wondered whether she’d recognize the songs if I played them for her again? Would she be able to anticipate the melodies?

I played until my fingers ached and then put my flute away, determined to pull it out and practice more often. As I did so, my daughter said that she wants to switch to chorus next year, and I knew that my days of listening to rudimentary trumpet were already numbered. As silly as it sounds, I’ll miss it.

But then, she asked if we wanted to hear her singing. Of course we said yes, and she opened her mouth and made the most beautiful sounds I never expected to hear from her small, little mouth. She was nearly pitch-perfect, and sang with vibrato. I was amazed as I listened to her sing, performing song after song as long as we would listen. And so now I know, the trumpet will not be the background music of my life. It will be her beautiful little voice, and I will treasure every note.

Things Are Different Now

Time to create something new.

It's been two years. Two years of daily posts that captured my musings, daily experiences, fictional stories, travel, and thoughts. 730 posts. I can barely believe that even as I write it.

I started this blog to keep me connected to the writing world. I was inspired by the talks of Jonathan Harris, Story Musgrave, and other speakers that I heard at a conference I attended. They encouraged me to create something and share it with the world whether it was perfect or not. They urged me to "put it out there" and I did. And I've loved it. And it did, indeed, keep me tethered to the writing world when the rest of life was pulling me away.

That isn't true anymore. In the past few months, writing has played a more central role in my life. I have projects and assignments and works in progress that want to take over my life, if I'll let them. Daily Snapshot has become neglected. I feel like I've been limping along, hoping to make it to the end of the two-year mark, and I think it showed.

So now it's time for a change.

I don't want to end Daily Snapshot altogether. Instead, I want to make it a more purposeful expression of my writing. I want to write when I have something to say, rather than dutifully posting something each day. This is the metamorphosis; no longer Daily Snapshots. Now just Snapshots. When they happen. When they make me want to sit down and write something about them.

I've given the blog a fresh face. I'm starting clean. A new year. Year Three.

Here we go...
Snapshots.

Cruise Catastrophe

A friend of mine just returned from a much-anticipated Western Caribbean cruise. It was the same one I took a couple years ago and raved about. We loved everything about our cruise and had a marvelous time. But Sam was not so lucky.

She got caught in the Hurricane Isaac fiasco. The top two decks of the cruise ship were closed. They had 50mph winds and rain. They couldn't dock at one of their ports of call and couldn't even disembark at Tampa, where they'd left from. Instead, they had to circle around Florida in the choppy waves of the sea and dock at Port Canaveral. Then they took a three-hour bus ride to Tampa and got caught in Republican Convention traffic.

It was a disaster. Needless to say, Sam and her husband never want to cruise again. I don't think I'd want to either, if that had been my introduction to cruising. Luckily, it wasn't. I'll be cruising again someday. :)

The Places We Laid Our Heads in Canada

Our trip to Canada was more logistically diverse than many of my trips. We moved around a lot and stayed in a variety of places: a mystery hotel, a haunted hostel, a huge hotel, and a bed & breakfast. Each had its advantages and disadvantages. I’ll share a recap here of things I wish I’d considered.

1. Travelocity Top Secret Hotel – Holiday Inn, Grand Island, NY

An inviting lobby definitely sets the tone for me when I stay at a hotel.

We didn’t know what we were getting with this hotel. I booked it blindly through Travelocity’s Top Secret Deals. All I knew was that it was rated a 3-star hotel and was within the Buffalo/Niagara Falls vicinity. Since we were only staying overnight, I wasn’t too concerned with whether we’d like the place or not. As it turns out, it was a very nice hotel and we were sorry that we didn’t have more time to check out all the amenities that the hotel had to offer.

What Worked: The price and the hotel rooms were great. I’d do it again.

Something to Consider: The hotel was located out-of-the-way on an island. If we ever go back, I’d choose the hotel again, but would definitely allow myself more time there.

2. HI-Ottawa Jail Hostel

As far as hostels go, the HI-Ottawa Jail Hostel was comfortable and clean. And it’s definitely a novel place to stay.

This was actually our main destination for the Canada trip. As amateur ghost hunters, my husband and I couldn’t resist staying in a haunted jail, and it had been years since I’d stayed at a hostel. The place was both kitschy and authentic. It was definitely a unique place to stay and was more private than I’d imagined. The location was great; we walked everywhere in Ottawa. And the Crime and Punishment Tour we took of the jail filled in the background story.

What Worked: We had a unique experience and learned the history of the jail and the hauntings. Plus, the hostel is centrally located, so you can walk everywhere.

Something to Consider: It’s an old jail, so there is no air conditioning. Fans in each cell helped. The bunk beds were creaky and not that comfortable, but okay for a night or two.

3. Delta Chelsea Hotel – Toronto

A nice view is always a perk.

The Delta Chelsea is the largest hotel in Canada and was a bustling hub-bub. The rooms were very nice and again, there were all kinds of amenities we just didn’t have time to take advantage of. The hotel is in the perfect location; close to Yonge-Dundas and accessible to all the vibrant activity of the city.

What Worked: Great location and nice rooms.

Something to Consider: The hotel is Canada’s largest, so be prepared for lots of people and noise. The rooms were quiet, but if you’re looking for a quiet getaway, this may not be the place.

4. A Hundred Church Bed & Breakfast – Stratford, Ontario

B&B’s are a smart choice for the Stratford Theatre crowd.

There are several B&B’s to choose from in Stratford. Our host, Tim, was very nice and our arts & crafts room was very pretty. We had the luxury of a private bathroom, which many B&B’s didn’t offer. What’s nice about staying in a B&B in Stratford is that you’re close to the center of town and can walk and shop and attend the theater without having to drive and pay to park. The closest hotels/motels are just out of town, so you wouldn’t have this luxury unless you chose to stay in one of the many B&B’s.

What Worked: Central location that allowed us to walk. A cozy room and nice conversation with our housemates over breakfast. And since we were all in town to attend the theatre, we could compare notes and share reviews of the plays we saw.

Something to Consider: I didn’t think about this when I made our reservation, but I’d booked other activities for us in the morning that conflicted with breakfast time. Our host fed us earlier than the other guests, but I felt bad. Next time I think of staying in a B&B, I’ll pay closer attention to our itinerary to see whether it really works for us to stay there instead of a hotel where we’re on our own for meals.

Overall, we had wonderful accommodations at every place we stayed during our Canadian adventure. But if I had to choose one place as my favorite, I’d probably pick the Delta Chelsea. If I travel Toronto again, that’s where I’ll stay.

Gone Fishin'

I am swamped. If I could, I'd hang a sign on my door/blog:  Gone Fishin'.

A New Age Bracket

I guess if I were going to buy a cemetery plot,
it would have to be along the lines of this one in Paris.

Today is my birthday. I usually don't draw attention to it, but this one is a significant one and the zingers started coming almost as soon as I woke up. Mostly from my brother.

He sent me an email with a low whistle that I could somehow hear through the email, followed by disbelief that I could be so old. Then he went on to tell me what time the Early Bird dinners start.

I read that and teased him back and the phone rang. It was a telemarketer trying to sell me a cemetery plot. I thought it must be some kind of joke, but wasn't sure who was behind the prank. My brother? My husband? My mother? My son?

Turns out it was none of them. It was a legitimate call!

When I accused my brother, he said the caller got it wrong. It should have been the Red Hat Society calling me with an offer for discount dentures...

It's not even dinnertime yet.

Like Rodney Dangerfield, I get no respect. But I did get presents, so we're good.