The Tyranny Of An Ordinary Day

"I was offered a job in the WTC. I turned it down. I don't know why--the building just gives me the creeps."-friend of mine in 1987

I used to live in that apartment. That picture was shot by me in 1986. My did we hate the WTC--it blocked our TV transmission. We had to get cable TV even though the actual shows were being shot less than 10 miles from our apartment!

The worst part was that it was just another ordinary day. A beloved elderly relative kidneys are shutting down, you're pretty prepared to hear of the death.

The worst part is the monster hiding under the cover of another ordinary day, a day when you roll out of bed and grab the coffee and fire up the car and....

Five minutes before I made the turn into my job, I heard Jodie Page of B106 Columbia say, "A small plane has hit the WTC, so here's a nice soothing song in case that news gets you excited."

I was teaching that day. I ran into the classroom and tried to access cnn.com, abc.com, foxnews.com, cbs.com and got nothing.

I whipped out my cell phone and called the boys in the computer lab. "Sorry, there's nothing wrong with the internet, Lorrie," said Jimmy cheerfully.

As the day progressed wild rumours began to fly around the campus. I didn't see the towers fall because I was still in class. Emails began to circulate. Somebody sent an email saying that two planes had taken off without clearance from the Charleston airport (120 miles away). Nobody knew what to believe that day, because the unbelievable was happening in living color...

I cancelled classes later on that day and as I was taping the notice to the door a student walked up. He looked puzzled. He had not heard. "Paul, they brought down the towers. This is your generation's Pearl Harbor!" I exclaimed. "This is the day you will tell your grandchildren about!" He looked at me as if I had lost my mind and slowly walked away.

And my daughter turned three on September 14, 2001. Today she is almost 9. Does she know about the monster hiding in the closet? Does her subconcious remember a day when she was unceremoniously deserted on a sidewalk somewhere in China, never to see blood kin again? Is she prepared for the next time she wakes up to a ordinary day and receives devastating news?

I am not. I dread the ordinary day. I lock my car door and fasten my seatbelt and beseech the heavens for a break each and every day. The phone sits by my bedside waiting patiently to deliver the next bit of horror. Another attack, another illness, another accident, another catastrophe which will change the fabric of life as I know it.

I dread the ordinary day.