It is time for the annual repost of my 9/11
story.
The last few days have been somewhat emotional for me, as the
tributes have begun playing on t.v. It's hard to believe it's been ten years
now.
If you are a regular reader and have read this story before, I urge
you not to skip over it. It's going to be a little different than in years past
and here is why:
"All You" magazine had wanted to publish it in this
month's edition, along with other 9/11 stories from readers across the country.
I was very excited, but after working with the editor, it became clear that for
me, the story was still too personal. I was not ready to share it in that medium
yet. So my Bucket List item of being published will have to wait a little
longer.
I also became aware of a problem that may be caused by the
disclosure of a few facts about my customer.
I work for a coffee company. It is a
coffee importer and distributor based in Birmingham, Alabama. We primarily
handle coffees for Food Service (hotels, resorts, restaurants, hospitals,
etc...) Office Coffee (that stuff in your breakroom at work) and Convienence
Stores (gas stations, truckstops and the like). We even offer the option to
purchase it for your home through our home goods department
t.
But a large part of our business is Private Labeling.
Have you ever
looked at a bag of store-brand coffee and read "packaged for This Store in
Birmingham, Alabama?" Well, sometimes, Birmingham, Alabama means us. That
is "private labeling." Some companies don't take kindly to the source of their
private labeled products being revealed, so I've removed the customer store
name. The real point of the story is not where the coffee was going, but the
person delivering it and my reaction. And, I like my job.
Next February
will mark my 21st year there as a customer service professional. Oh, the stories
I could tell.
Like this one.
Tomorrow will be September 11th.
Patriot Day.
I'll be wearing my yellow ribbon and my American Flag
pin.
This year, marking the ten year anniversary, I know that it will be
commemorated with the reverence that it should.
Even after ten years, the
emotion is nearly as fresh and raw as it was watching the non-stop news
footage.
And every year since, I have thought about 5 cases of
coffee.
I cry when I tell it because the emotions bubble back up, so you
are at an advantage reading it, though I am about to cry just typing
it.
Every now and again, a private-label customer would request a few
cases of coffee be sent directly to one of their stores. On September 10, 2001
they requested that I send five cases of coffee to the store on the basement
level of WTC. I am told this is where the food court was. They had requested
Next Day Air, Early A.M. delivery, which means it is delivered first thing in
the morning. I processed the UPS shipment myself, to ensure it was done in time
for pick up.
It stood out to me because the address was simply
:
(Store Name)
Basement Suite#
WTC, NY and the zip code.
I
remember thinking, "How cool is that?"
At the office the next morning, I
arrived early enough to make my coffee, prioritize my "things to do" list for
the day, and settle in. My department is a long room, lined in cubicles, with a
walkway from our main breakroom to our lobby on the interior side and a wall of
windows on the other. The cubicles in the center face outward, creating a large
open area in the middle of the room. Between each workstation is a curved
countertop and a chair, so in the center there are two that face one another
like tables in a cafe. The space is very conducive to lingering and chatting by
those passing through to and from the main breakroom. At times it can be very
disruptive.
Our purchasing agent at the time, a fellow named Ron, was
walking through on his way to the main breakroom, coffee cup in hand. You must
know this about Ron. He was a very serious individual, but was also extremely
funny. He had the driest sense of humor and could deliver the funniest jokes
with an expression so deadpan, that sometimes it was hard to determine if he was
being serious or pulling your leg. So when he stopped in the center, and asked
"Did you hear a plane crashed into the World Trade Center?" we all paused for
the punchline.
After convincing us that he was serious, I raced to the
breakroom to see the breaking news on t.v. The address of my previous day's
shipment suddenly came to mind and it dawned on me, the UPS driver could very
well be there at that very moment. I was standing there watching, when the
second plane hit.
As the events of the day unfolded, I thought more and
more of those five boxes of coffee and the unsuspecting UPS driver I'd sent to
his death. I prayed for a lot of people that day, but I prayed specifically for
him.
Over the next several days, I began to think about him quite a bit.
Was he married, did he have children, what kind of person would he have
been....? Because I would never really know his fate, it started to be too much
for me. Every time I saw footage of the dust & debris, I imagined a UPS
truck buried beneath it.
Though it may sound strange, I felt really
guilty, like somehow I was responsible. I cried uncontrollably, nearly daily,
over this person I'd never met.
Two weeks went by. My best friend told me
that I was going to give it to God and let it go. So I finally prayed that God
would give me some peace over it and release me from this guilt I was feeling. I
prayed once more for him and his family and "laid it down."
The very next
day, our local UPS driver returned those five boxes of coffee stamped
"UNDELIVERABLE." They looked as good as the day I sent them out. I took their
pristine condition as my sign from God that the driver I prayed so diligently
over, was okay too.
Looking back, I can't explain why I was so upset over
this person that I didn't know, when there were those who I did know right in
the heart of the events.
- My cousin, Amanda, pregnant with her middle daughter, on a courier run in
New York. Her company had called her back to the office, just shy of reaching
WTC, where her deliveries were to be made. She was one of hundreds of thousands
who fled Manhattan on foot across the George Washington Bridge.
- One of our DC route reps had just left from making his Pentagon delivery,
watched as that plane passed overhead. He called in, shaken but okay, and told
one of the CSR's "I think I just saw a plane crash."
- Moments later friend Penny
Huggins Bailey, stationed there as a protocol officer, would be saved from
the direct hit by an overwhelming surge of mother's
intuition.
There was a resurgence of hospitality, patriotism, and
faith. People were kinder, gentler, more caring, more forgiving. More were proud
to be American and began to relish what was good about our country, rather than
harping on what was wrong. And everyone began to rexamine their
faith.
Ten years later, my emotions still overwhelm me, and the tears
come as easily now as they did then.
Alan Jackson's "Where Were You"
effortlessly captured everything I had felt about the events surrounding 9/11.
Thursday, I had posted the video of it from the live performance to my Facebook
page. I watched the full five minute video to make sure it was complete and not
compromised in any way before I posted it. Half way through, I realized that I
was crying.
I know, when I tell this story to my grandchildren some day,
I will fight back a tear even then.
I realize that to some extent, as a
nation we should "move on." But I was raised that the first part of getting
where you are going, is knowing where you've been.
Never
Forget
(As always, dedicated to those who unsuspectingly gave their
lives Sept 11, 2001, the people who knew & loved them, and all our military
hereos keeping us safe ever since.)
