The Big E – Erasing the Past
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By Elaine Lessig
I was standing outside the group ring late that sunny Saturday afternoon in March. The noise level in the block cement building was deafening. Around me were friends from near and far, fellow judges, spectators, and handlers–professional and not. All of us were deep in conversation when an announcement over the public address system shattered our world, both inside that building and everywhere else, too. It was March 14, 2020, the end of innocence.
I remember, those many years ago, sitting in geometry class on November 23, 1963, the day that President John F. Kennedy was shot. We were having a lesson on isosceles triangles, of all things, that chilly November day. The principal’s voice suddenly filled the room from the speaker on the wall. “The President has been shot,” he said with a somber tone. “We will update you when we have further information.” No one moved. Our teacher went as pale as a ghost. Her bright red nails making a striking contrast against her white cheeks. Soon, another blast of the loud speaker broke the incomprehensible news, “Today, the President of the United States died of his massive injuries in Dallas, Texas. Please stay in your classrooms until it is time to board your buses.” As instructed, no one said a word nor moved an inch until it was time to go home. As young as we were, we grieved. Camelot was no more.
Many of you are too young to remember the morning of September 11, 2001. When I say it was a picture perfect morning, it was. Not a cloud was visible. The brilliant sunshine highlighted the depth of the blue in the sky. A more beautiful day is hard to imagine. I was driving to an early morning ultrasound appointment in Pennsylvania with my (hopefully) pregnant bitch. The radio program I was listening to was interrupted with a bulletin. “An airplane has just crashed into the World Trade Center,” a shaken newsman hysterically repeated over and over again. My first thought was that an airplane unintentionally hit the tall building in lower Manhattan. When another plane hit the other tower several minutes later, it became clear. This was no accident.
As I waited for my appointment, I tried desperately to call my husband and son, both of whom went to work every day on a train that went through the train station located deep in the bowels of that building. The calls could not be completed. Frantically, I tried to reach my husband at the hospital where he worked in the city. Still, there was nothing but a recorded message or a busy signal. After the appointment, with good news but a heavy heart, I drove home while listening to details of the horrific event that morning. The reports spoke of one horror after another. Who could begin to understand these events? No one.
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Posted by AnthonyA
on Jan 10 2021. Filed under Current Articles, Featured.
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