Our History of Disasters in Our Family
History and our lives are full of these watershed moments, where life just isn't the same from that point forward. I'll share what I remember, which I will admit might be full of holes at this point. Memory is always a dicey thing, even under circumstances like these.
My father Douglas Eden was born just four days before Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor. Because of that event, my grandfather Douglas Eden Sr. wasn't required to serve in active military during World War II. Other than that, the Pearl Harbor attack was nothing to me personally but a blurb in a textbook.
I remember where I was when the space shuttle Challenger exploded during liftoff. I was in choir class in Bonanza High School in Las Vegas. I was sixteen. Our choir teacher brought in a TV, and together we watched the space shuttle explode in news replays. I remember looking around and seeing tears in the eyes of some of my classmates, but I didn't cry. I felt more shocked than sad.
September 10, 2001
My brother Mark got married to his longtime girlfriend Marie on this day, and it was important, because it was the first time in a very long time when all of us Eden kids had been able to gather. They all came over to my house before the wedding - Mike and his wife Christy and at least some of their kids, Peter and his kids, Paul and his wife Sarah and their two kids, Heather and her husband Brad and their kids Tyler and Amber (Amber was the cutest, squishiest baby ever). I don't remember Eric there...he might have been serving his mission at the time.
We were all there. We sang Happy Birthday to Heather, who was having a birthday soon. Just spent some time together and I enjoyed it so much.
Sam watched the little kids at our house while the rest of us went to Mark and Marie's wedding. They were married next to the water out in Annapolis, and then we had dinner and dancing. Had a great time talking and dancing. Met my mother's older brother Uncle Ray for the first time, and learned that he was a pretty good dancer.
Everyone who was visiting planned to head out the next day - Mark and Marie on their honeymoon to Bermuda, and the rest of them back home.
The Morning of September 11, 2001
My oldest son David was only a few days into his first year of kindergarten, and we were getting ready for school and work. Sam and I both worked from home for the National Restaurant Association at the time, updating their membership database.
My mother called us from her work in downtown Washington, DC. Her voice had an edge of urgency I'd never heard from her before. She told us to turn on the TV, and we did.
We saw Good Morning America, and heard Bryant Gumbel talking about a plane, and the World Trade Center. We saw the gaping hole from the street level of New York City, and the smoke. It didn't seem real.
Then they cut to the Pentagon, and all the smoke. Immediately we understood my mother's urgency. She worked within sight of the Pentagon, and she was trying to get home in crazy, backed-up traffic.
She was okay, she said. But the planes that flew into the buildings...they were from American Airlines. The same planes my brothers and sisters were flying on this very morning.
Where were they? The plane that hit the World Trade Center had flown out of Boston, and I felt a guilty sense of relief.
But the plane that flew into the Pentagon...flew out of Washington DC. And then a second plane hit the second tower. What???
We were under attack.
What flight were they on? We couldn't find out. Couldn't remember. We didn't know anything but prayer and panic for about an hour.
Then we heard from them.
The others were okay, but Peter and Karen had been grounded, with all other planes, wherever they'd been in the air. There was no one flying anywhere in the U.S. They were stuck in Kansas City, and needed to get back home to Washington State.
Once everyone close to me was accounted for, there was nothing left to do that day but watch the horrible scene unfold. There'd been bombings at the World Trade Center before, but nothing on this scale. This was unimaginable. Everyone I met that day or talked to was in shock.
The Fallout
Over the next several weeks, it was difficult to get back to normal. There was this constant buzz of intense fear everywhere.
We talked about getting back to normal. We talked about not letting the terrorists win by keeping our life the same. But things were not the same, and I don't know that they've ever really been the same after that. Our regular normal became a new normal instead.
Peter and Karen and their family did finally make it home. They stayed with some other members of the Church in Kansas City, and we wired them money for a bus ticket. We went back to school and work, but things weren't the same.
The news couldn't talk about or show anything but burning buildings and falling bodies and burnt-out empty fields and people covered in building dust for several weeks. The cleanup took months. After the first few days, no one was found alive again after that. Some were only found in pieces.
After a few weeks, I remember there was a special meeting called by the church. President Hinckley was speaking on the 9/11 attacks. I don't remember much about that day, other than the weather was gray and rainy when I went in. The weather perfectly matched my depressed mood, which I hadn't been able to shake since the event took place. President Hinckley spoke, and they rang the Nauvoo bells.
When I left the church after the broadcast, the sky was bright blue and full of puffy white clouds. Somehow, my own dark mood had also lifted. It was weird, like the earth had gone from depressed to hopeful just as I did. That's how universal this whole thing felt.
I still get a little down at the thought of 9/11 every year, but I've mostly recovered, I think. I know many others did not. And there were long-term, permanent ramifications for us as well.
Because people were refusing to fly for the longest time, our business, which depended on convention income, took a serious hit, and they let us both go a few months later. We couldn't find other work in the area, and had to sell our home and move.
Still, the place where we landed after that had other good opportunities, and our life, although different than we thought it would be, is still full and happy. So I feel pretty grateful for how things have turned out.
I used to replay that news footage every year, but I don't anymore. 9/11 for me is often a day of reflection, a time to spend alone, or a day to do some service for others in gratitude that I'm still alive and my family is still alive.
How did 9/11 affect you?
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