30 Feet Strong

by Hannah Paige

  I saw my mother, known to me simply by the prior title, known to many as the woman behind Project Survivor Tree, or more commonly, Naomi. She was standing directly across from the brunette, the blonde, the two men, diagonal from the doctor, on the other side of the American flag. She too received a flag, folded into a neat triangle. It was for my father, Johnny. Darin, my friend in red plaid, saw him that day ten years ago. Unfortunately, he never knew that he was, in fact, catching a glimpse of his younger stepbrother. He must be excused, though, it was only a second. And a second on a day like that, ten years ago, is hardly recognized as important until long after the tick of the clock has passed.

  The blonde woman didn’t know how many family members she really had in the crowd, nor did the old man in the wheelchair. Connections are hard to see, especially when they are not blatantly pointed out.

  I wasn’t known for being blatant, but I did try to present people with opportunities to find their own connections, to forge their own bonds from the steel I provided and the fire that they made within themselves. If my tactics were productive, if I accomplished what I set out to do, well, time will tell. But I tried, just like all of them. I did try.

  I had to believe that something changed, shifted, from my, as a close friend put it, ‘messing with people’s lives’. I had to. Since, in the crowd that day, I didn’t see a husband in red plaid and dirty white Nikes, trying desperately to comfort his wife, the one he danced with to ‘God Only Knows’; she’d never forget that song.

  I didn’t see a lovely, frail, young woman, a teacher that was known by more than one person in the crowd, the girl in her favorite song, the one she shared with a cab partner one night, lingering by the love that she never really had.

  I didn’t see a smiling, giddy, young lawyer, still hopeful about the world and the family for which she always fought, but in the end couldn’t help. Instead she had turned her attention towards another woman with yet another broken family, who in the end, she did help with her own encouraging soul. She never even knew that she was Rhonda, the girl who would never get out of an almost-stranger’s heart.

  The beautiful woman in the wedding gown—really a girl who never got the chance to grow up, to wear that dress that her father wove for her in his imagination—who made her father cry, wasn’t there anymore. But she did manage to convince her dad not to worry, that everything would turn out alright.

  There were many more for me to help, many women, children, men, that stood among the weeping loved ones on that September day. But the ones that I did help, who loved the people that I had come to know only in brief moments: Jill, Grace, Darin, and JJ. They were but shadows in that September day when I didn’t have ten birthday candles on a limp yellow cake, but three thousand candles burning in the hearts of those that were left behind.

  I would never forget them, the ones that I met along my way. But seconds seem all the longer to a boy of my age, making them easier to recall. They might forget me, but they wouldn’t forget the importance of a second.

  Because for Mr. Griffin, that second when he kissed his girl goodbye made the short second when he saw her again, a young woman in a wedding gown, all the more special.

  For Pam, that one second she saw her husband, when she took my hand under the twinkling lights in the tree limbs, taught her how to smile again.

  A second taught Ian that a single person could change his life forever.

  And for April May June, it was but a second that gave her a chance to hear the last words of a woman she never met; a woman that would use me as her eager student to teach April May June how to find the mother she lost so many years ago.

  I knew that these weren’t all of the stories, all of the people that were somehow connected by that September day. These were only four of them. But there are eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds in a day. No more. No less. And every one of them counts, as those people that I had the pleasure of meeting can attest. All it takes is one second, one axis-tilting, tide-turning, world-crashing moment to make you remember; to make you notice; to make you wake up and see the people in front of you; to see your neighbors down the street and make the time to wave; to make you realize how small you are in this world. One second.

  Don’t forget to check the clock.

  Epilogue

  Rick Griffin

  He cleared his throat, "My name is Rick Griffin. I lost my daughter, Grace, on September 11th, 2001. She was on flight United 93. It was just a normal plane that day, but later it would become the title used for movies and documentaries. It would become feared. For a long time, I didn’t talk about her because I knew that if I did, people would see me break down. They would see me reach for a drink. For a long time, that’s how torn up I was. People talk about a father’s love, but they don’t talk about what that love does to the father once his child is gone. Grace was my world, she was my heartbeat. When I lost her ten years ago, I never thought I would see her again. Then I met a little boy named Will. He showed me how to breathe again. He taught me that I could live in a world without my daughter in it and still feel her beside me. He gave me back hope and for that, I’m eternally grateful.

  “For just a second, I saw the world through his eyes. I saw it how Grace would have wanted me to see my life, and it was beautiful. I don’t know if I’m the man that Grace would have wanted me to be. But, because of her, because of Will, and because of what I have learned, even though it took me ten years to learn it, I know that everything will turn out alright.”

  He started to stand up, then sat back down, “Oh, and Will? I learned his name. It’s Robert Calhoun and he’s been working at the cemetery for thirty-five years. He likes chocolate ice cream.”

  Ian Chase

  “Is it on? Is it rolling?” He saw the cameraman nod silently. “Okay. Alright. Do I say my name? I don’t think I have to, I’ll make this short. I was supposed to share what I learned in this testimonial. I learned not to take a moment for granted, because twenty minutes changed my life. After that, it was changed even more. I think, if I hadn’t gotten in that car with that woman, I wouldn’t have been able to see the world the way I do today. I wouldn’t have been able to make the kind of friendships that I have now, because I am a stronger person. I learned that just because I looked up, that I became the kind of person who cherishes every second, that doesn’t mean everyone else does. And…that’s okay. Because we’re all learning. I just hope that my testimony, today, will maybe expedite the process for some people out there, who aren’t as lucky as I am.”

  Pam McCann

  She looked down at her feet and saw that while her toes were itching inside, dying to fidget, her feet were still, stable, “What have I learned?” She was quiet for a moment before she flashed her shy, rosy smile, “I’ve learned to take care of myself. I’ve learned to get up, brush my hair, my teeth, take care of me. I don’t know if I would call myself happy yet. But I’m getting there. I just need a little more time, and I won’t be taking any of that away from myself.”

  April McCann

  “I talked to my mom today. I call her every week. I even see her when I go to visit my boyfriend.” She laughed at herself, “That sounds like a weird word, coming out of my mouth, like I’m sixteen, or something. I think that if it hadn’t been for September 11th, I wouldn’t know my good friend, Ian. And I wouldn’t have such a strong relationship with my dad, because we’ve served our time butting heads over losing someone that we both cared for. I probably wouldn’t have met Rick again. I would be going on twenty-five years without seeing my mom. I lost a woman named JJ Chase ten years ago. And I never met her, really. But…for some reason it destroyed me. And that scared me, that all-consuming thought that I might cry, that I might be weak. I never let myself feel sadness. I would not grieve for her. I thought if I could keep helping other people, then maybe I could just forget about myself. If I could keep my mind off of what I felt inside, then I’d be alright. But I learned the hard way that’s not a good way to live. Sooner
or later what you feel, what you try to keep from yourself, it loops back around and lands right in front of you. JJ helped me see that. I know it sounds crazy, but in the end, I believe she played a part in who I am today. That’s the amazing thing about us, about people. We can be drawn together by the smallest of moments. And while there’s billions of people on this Earth, I think…I think we can all play a role in one another’s lives. If we just take a second.”

  “On that terrible day, a nation became a neighborhood.” ~George Pataki

  “My older brother John lived [his life] in Technicolor. When he walked in the door, the whole house lit up. And I’m sure heaven lit up when he got there too,” ~Anthoula Katsimatides at the World Trade Center site in 2005.

  “Let’s roll!” ~Flight 93 passenger Todd Beamer.

  “I never thought I’d see the World Trade Center pass by me in a dump truck,” Craig Chester, a volunteer rescue worker.

  “He was my angel,” Norma Hessic on a man who said, “Lady, take my hand,” and led her out of the WTC, where she had been working that day on the 82nd floor, to the hospital.

  “A tragedy like this could have torn our country apart. But instead it has united us, and we have become a family,” Rev. Billy Graham, at a memorial service for the victims.

  “After 9/11 people were unbelievably friendly. I remember we’d all get to a stop sign and everyone would try to wave each other on. Everyone tried to do the right thing,” Shelly Cummins.

  “Please be happy. Please live your life. That’s an order,” ~Brian Sweeney, a United Airlines passenger, leaving a phone message for his wife, Julia.

  “And in a matter of hours, the effects rippled out to touch virtually everyone in the city, or, for that matter, the world,” Newsweek (Sept 24, 2001 edition).

  “I believe we all lost a part of our very souls that day. Never Forgotten. Always remembered. My heart and prayers are going out to anyone that only God knows that truly lost a friend, a boss, a co-worker, a mother, a father, a sister, a brother, a cousin, an aunt, an uncle, a grandparent, a son, a daughter or a spouse. My heart still breaks for today 14 years later,” ~Bruce Edward Schartzer

  “Did you open your eyes, hope it never happened? Close your eyes and not go to sleep? Did you notice the sunset the first time in ages? Or speak to some stranger on the street…? Where were you when the world stopped turning on that September day?”~Alan Jackson.