9-11: The Day the Earth Stood Still

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The Day the Earth Stood Still

I remember stepping out of the shower

images on the television, a building engulfed in flames.

Thought it was coming attractions of “Collateral Damage”

a movie discussed earlier,

the screams of Katie Couric told me otherwise.

Wrapped in a towel, staring at the images, mind so filled with horror

no discernible words formed.

Dressing robotically,  confused as to what I was seeing

the second plane confirmed the intent.

I remember radio voices,

Scott and Todd, reporting what they were hearing

and seeing – voices choked with shock –

in Dr.Uray’s office – the nurses were weeping and trembling

all with children somewhere in the city.

We listened to Todd, or maybe it was Scott, wail in disbelief as the first tower

fell to earth, Dr. Uray corralled her staff – saying they must do their job in times of war, 
her face grave with past remembrance, her mouth set in a line of determination.

I remember calling the office to say I couldn’t possibly come in,

my boss Morgan said many were leaving anyway,

others sat silent in the conference room,

soundless except for whispered descriptions for those without sight,

of the unfolding  results of  incomprehensible acts.

Later would come the stories of Michael Hingson and his guide dog Roselle 
– escaping from the dust, debris and chaos, 
but that day, we saw nothing but death and destruction.

I remember going to my sister Theresa’s house

she hadn’t heard from her husband,  a supervisor at UPS, 
who often subbed for drivers on the World Trade Center Route.

The kids trickled home from school , we tried to shield the youngest, Robert,

Through many many anxious hours before his father walked in the door.

I remember going home to my house,

my daughter Annemarie and my son Roy Michael, on the deck

surrounded by football players and cheerleaders

silent and subdued they clung to each other powerlessly,

all knowing someone with someone in the city.

I worried about my oldest, Rosemarie, on campus at Montclair University,

no phone calls would connect.

The greatest fear of a mother is to be separated from her children in a calamity or disaster. 
Without her home where I could see, her, touch her – unbearable,  on a day where all was unbearable.

I remember from a high point in Monroe,

a place now covered with a gated community, 

we saw the smoke pluming miles into the sky

– a sky devoid of air traffic of any kind –
 creating a deafening silence the seemed to halt the Earth in its rotation, 
hold it motionless in orbit,   
rendering us unable to draw a breath.

I remember night fell, but it was only darkness; sleep wrenched from it,  leaving only nightmares behind.

© 2011 Noreen Braman

Write down your memories for your children, your grandchildren, and all who follow in your footsteps.

Yes, I own a giant cellphone – and here is why

--> Today, CNN ran a cartoon called “Attack of the GiantCellphone” which makes some funny points, but in my opinion, doesn’t really address the real problems with cell phones, big or little, that I will address at the end of this rant. 

I am a baby boomer who loves computers, doesn’t need anyone to explain social media to me, and, in fact, keep the whole network of computers at my office running. And yes, I own a “giant” cell phone and am not ashamed to say so.

Yes, my baby boomer eyes need a larger font and the size screen to keep me from scrolling hell. Yes, I love my cell phone camera, and all its bells and whistles that can almost compete with my digital SLR.  And yes, I am accessing Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and a multitude of other apps on a daily basis. My giant cell phone is my pocket computer. For heavy-duty graphic design, creative writing and research, nothing will beat my desktop or my laptop – and if attached to my huge monitor, the photos are indescribable. So, I make no apologies for not being able to carry it in my pocket on most occasions. My screen is big enough to read books, meaning that I don’t even have to bring along my e-reader of choice, unless of course I am going to be doing a lot of reading outside, say, on the beach.

I am as considerate of others when I take photos as I am when I use my digital camera, and agree that people blocking other people’s views of shows, scenery, events and sports by holding up their phone, tablet or video camera (remember those) are just rude.  And seriously, trying to video a concert on most any kind of consumer recording device just produces a lot of out of focus video, and crowd-spoiled audio. There are just some times when the cell phone should stay in your pocket or bag, or cutely designed cross body phone case.

Unfortunately, one thing that cell phones are exceptionally bad at is phone calls. Despite my love for new technology, I long for the days of the old-fashioned-hanging-on-the-wall phone. The one that let people talk freely to each other, even speaking at the same time, without the digital signal cutting one person off in favor of the other.  Pretty soon we will have to start saying “over” when we are letting the other person know that it is their turn to speak. And that will only work if you are alone in a sound proof booth, because add anyone talking in the background, dogs barking, babies crying or even just the sound of brushing your hair behind your ear, and forget about intelligible conversation.   Talk to a customer service person on a headset or someone who has you on speakerphone and you descend into a level of hell reserved just for cell phone conversations. I cannot recall how many conversations I have ended with “Just text me!” or “Call me when you have a better signal!” or “0K! That’s fine!” (That one almost got me into the credit card scam of the month club).

So, my advice is, if you need to talk to me, send me a text, an email or a carrier pigeon, but don’t try to call me on my cell phone.