Provisional
Truth |
Essays | September 2006
Reflections On September 11, 2001
As most Americans, I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing
when I first heard that terrorists had attacked our nation five years
ago, the day we officially went to war with Islamist Jihad.
Those few days forever are
imprinted in bitterweet memories of the lives and lifestyles
lost, and lives and lifestyles changed, but in my case the
change was
significantly better.
At the time, I was a stock broker
(investment adviser, financial executive, etc.) with what formerly
was Paine Webber, now UBS Financial Services, living in Columbus,
Ohio.
I had qualified for a trip through Paine
Webber - an educational seminar, of course, covering wealth
preservation strategies - in Beavercreek, Colorado, staying at The
Park
Hyatt at the base of one of Colorado's finest ski resorts.
No skiing in September, although it did
snow in upper elevations the day I arrived, early, in order to do
some hiking. Our seminars began on Sunday evening, September
9th, continuing all day Monday, to conclude Tuesday evening for a
return home on Wednesday the 12th.
Our seminar was cancelled Tuesday
morning, about 8 am Mountain Time after the moderator interrupted a
speaker to tell us the first tower in New York had collapsed.
Some in our audience were yet not fully aware of what was happening
on the East Coast because of the two-hour time difference.
By a few minutes after 8 that morning we
all were aware of the tragedy, but really completely unaware of how
it would - and does yet - impact our lives.
Most of us filed back to the Hyatt
lobby/great room area and the early arrivers got seats at the small
bar and on a very small television we watched the second tower
collapse a half hour after the first. Most of us started ordering
drinks.
Cell phones were overwhelmed from the
volume of traffic, but that didn't stop the savvy brokers among us
who attempted to call car rental agencies after we heard of the FAA
grounding of all commercial aircraft (though someone actually tried
to charter a flight back East and was quoted a price of $12,000
before the grounding).
Rental cars were gone from Denver
International within minutes, and those who already had rentals had
no intention of returning them. Among those so fortunate was a
colleague of mine and his wife from Columbus, which was to come in
handy later in the week.
The Hyatt staff jumped into action, with
more than 300 seminar attendees and spouses/spouse equivalents
milling about, and quickly rolled out several big screen TVs for the
great room area, immediately followed by a beverage service and then
a buffet of continental breakfast items (it was only 9 am our time
by then).
For several hours we watched the replays, heard
the rumors, the commentaries, the guesses - some educated, some
silly - but no one anywhere really knew what was going on.
(On Monday, September 11, 2006, my wife
Suellen and I watched several hours of a real-time replay of The Today Show
coverage from five years ago, chilling in its lack of accurate, hard
information as events unfolded minute by minute.)
Sometime after noon, I returned to my
room, changed into hiking clothes, packed a knapsack, and rode the
chairlift to 10,000 feet to make a try for the top of the ski slope.
It was a beautiful, warm, early fall Colorado afternoon, in the
seventies. As I reached the upper slope, above 11,000 feet, I
could see that I was nowhere near the summit.
I found something of an auto track,
which took me further up until I reached a cellular telephone
antenna. Still not at the top. An ill-defined trail led
me through some dense trees and brush, when, about a half-hour
later, about 5 pm or so, I reached a high meadow, a clearing of
sorts, where I decided to rest.
I was struck by the stillness and calm.
No jet contrails in the sky, only perfect blueness. I saw a
number of deer, including one big buck, which paid no attention to
me. I remember calling my children in Columbus from that
special place, and talking to them about what had happened that day.
Knowing that darkness would soon
prevail, I began my descent after taking a number of photos,
arriving at the top of the main chairlift after 7 pm, taking more
photos of the mountains across the valley which seemed so much more
timeless.
To my dismay, the chairlift stopped
running at 6, so I began the descent down the rock-strewn ski slope
as forest creatures who have owned that mountain for eons began
emerging from the trees in the still twilight.
One, about the biggest porcupine I have
ever seen, seemed to materialize from nowhere, and I almost ran into
it as I was more focused on the grass and rocks a yard ahead of me
to notice.
By the time I reached the Hyatt it was
after 8:30 pm, pitch dark, and my now-blistered feet were killing
me. A couple double Glenlivets at the bar to begin defrosting
and back to the room for a long, hot shower. A message on my
phone invited me to dinner with a group of PaineWebber people, with
instructions to meet them at a restaurant at 6:30 - too late, so I
ordered room service and watched endless replays of the day's events
until I fell asleep.
The next day, Wednesday, was to have
been a travel-home day, but unless you had a rental car, no one was
going anywhere. More television-watching in the Hyatt great
room, until someone announced that the Hyatt facilities would be
made available to us gratis. Some chose the spa, I chose
horseback riding.
A quick call to the stables and I walked
up to set out on a two-hour ride with a great wrangler who did, of
course, look like the original Marlboro man. No one else
joined us, so "Tex" or "Duke" and I had the trails to ourselves,
which gave Tex or Duke the chance to gallop a couple of times,
something he would never be able to do in a larger group. My
horse naturally followed, and I was able to hold on somehow.
Again, I was struck by the simple beauty
of that place, the stillness, the smell of fresh sage growing all
around, and the absence of anything foreign in the sky.
That evening, the same group was
gathering for dinner and this time I was able to join them.
Our host selected Splendido, a fabulous fine-dining experience in
Beavercreek.
As we waited for tables to be prepared -
there were 10-11 of us, a beautiful woman walked in to the bar area
- alone - and Mark, our host, almost knocked someone down trying to
get over to her to take her drink order.
Suellen Francine Tekell had been staying
at a friend's house in nearby Eagle-Vail after driving to Colorado
from Norman, Oklahoma the previous Sunday. She and some
friends had bought a week's stay at this beautiful home at a charity
silent auction the previous holiday season, and, after making plans
to use their week, two of the friends had to cancel, but Suellen,
newly divorced, decided to go it alone.
Suellen had dinner at Spledido the night
before as well, one of only a few patrons the entire evening.
A pianist was to have entertained at the restaurant that night, but
was grounded on 9/11. Suellen was invited back by the maitre
'd to listen on Wednesday, as the pianist decided to drive to
Beavercreek. Hey, a gig's a gig.
Lucky me she returned Wednesday evening.
Suellen thought Mark was a waiter or bartender, but after bringing
her a glass of chardonnay and confirming she was alone, Mark invited
her to join us. More lucky, there were an equal number of
women in our group, not just a bunch of middle-age, out-of-town men
out for the evening.
Amazingly, Suellen agreed to join us,
and, even more lucky, we were seated across from each other through
dinner, and a number of us stayed to hear the legendary pianist, who
was quite good, all in all.
As it appeared that we all were ready to
go, I asked Suellen if she would like to join me on a hike the next
day, and she surprised me by saying 'yes.'
Monday, 09/11/2006, To Be Continued...
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