Remembering Sept. 11, 2001

A note to my readers: I wrote this column for publication in this newspaper on September 10, 2011, the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. In the 30 years I’ve been writing this column (30 years? Really? Yes, really 30 years.) I have never reprinted a column … until now. I hope you all enjoy it and that the community spirit and the big heart of one 9-year-old girl lifts your spirits on this, the 20th anniversary of one of the United States’ darkest days of remembrance.

The morning of

I was in the shower when the first phone call came, urgent enough for my husband to bring me the handset.

“Turn on the TV. We’re being attacked.”

I quickly wrapped a towel around myself and dashed to do as I was told. The screen was filled with the unbelievable — the North Tower of the World Trade Center was crumbling, in red, orange and yellow flames and black smoke. Before I could even comprehend what I was seeing, united Airlines Flight 175 flew into the South Tower. It was 6:03 a.m.

At 6:59 a.m. when the South Tower collapsed, I was dressed and on the phone with my mom. While I didn’t really know what was happening or what would happen next — no one did — I did know that things were bad, could get worse and my 9-year-old daughter was 174 miles away with her grandmother in Alameda. “I’m coming to get her.” For once my mom did not argue with me, neither did my husband.

I was walking out the door with car keys in hand at 7:28 a.m. when the North Tower collapsed. Lot’s worse, right mom? The drive to The Bay was eerie. I was, for long stretches at a time, alone on the road listening to the breaking and confusing news on the radio. Another plane, American Airlines Flight 77, had hit the Pentagon. United Airline Flight 93, whose target was believed to be either the Capitol or the White House, crashed near Shanksville, Pennsylvania, its mission of terror thwarted by the passengers. More buildings collapsed at the World Trade Center site. Planes were grounded. The president had been whisked away to a safe location. Turmoil and chaos reigned.

Yet on Highway 70,

I was alone with only the fleeting company of fighter jets scrambling out of Beale Air Force Base, something the radio news reporters were saying wasn’t happening.

A couple of trucks traveled with me for brief stretches on Hwy 99 connecting to Hwy 5 but even the highways around Sacramento as I merged on to Hwy 80 were mostly deserted.

And from Sacramento all the way to Alameda the only other vehicles I saw were military or law enforcement.

Hours later, the return trip was no less eerie. Even my daughter wondered at the desolate roadways. She had a lot of questions. I had few answers. How do you explain hijackers, terrorists and the death of thousands to a 9-year-old? I did the best I could to explain the inexplicable.

“It’s like when the plane crashed into the MercuryRegister,” she said working to find something in her life experience to connect it to. “Only way lots worse. Right mom?”

A million socks, a million candy bars

For the next five days she insisted on calling her grandparents every day; on knowing where her dad and I were at all times; on having me sleep in her room.

Through all the horror of the aftermath — 2, 977 Americans dead — I tried to find stories of human heroism and kindness to share with her.

The bravery of the passengers on Flight 93; the heroism of the 9-1-1 emergency workers who gave their lives trying to rescue others and the hundreds of others who remained at Ground Zero working in horrific conditions to retrieve bodies and personal belongings of the victims. I wanted her to know that humanity’s capacity for atrocious evil was matched, if not exceeded, by its capacity for greatness.

She clung to these stories, asking me to repeat them time and again. Her favorite story was the one about the “million socks.” Apparently, those working at Ground Zero were having a terrible time with their feet. The micro fine glass particles in the dust were getting imbedded in their socks, slicing their feet. Word spread and soon citizens throughout the greater New York area were delivering thousands and thousands of clean fresh socks to the site every day until there were a million socks.

It was Manhattan Jake who had firefighter friends working at ground zero who relayed the story with this caveat: “He says what they need are a million candy bars because none of them want to leave the site to go back to the command stations to eat. They need food they can shove in their pockets.”

Now this was something Olivia could wrap her head around and so she started “The Million Candy Bar Project.” The goal: to collect a million candy bars and ship them to Ground Zero for “the heroes.” She made flyers and a list of places and people to take them to. It was a simple idea but as she stood in front of people, local service clubs and TV cameras explaining what she wanted to do; her commitment was palpable and contagious.

Community support

People, businesses and organizations from Oroville, Chico, Paradise,

Biggs and Gridley stood with this 9-year-old offering to set up drop off points for donations, making donations, and running collection drives of their own. One local maker of granola bars donated an entire special run of their bars to the cause. Olivia, myself and members of the Oroville Noon Rotary (now the Rotary Club of Oroville) donated our time for the production run. And when the

Million Candy Bar Project concluded and there were more than 15,000 candy bars to ship to Ground Zero it was Pioneer Auto Body & Shipping (now Pioneer Collision Center) that donated packaging and shipping.

Fruits and veggies

Once the candy bars arrived at Ground Zero word spread about the little girl from California and her community and for weeks Olivia received letters, cards and postcards from “the heroes” thanking her for the Baby Ruth’s, Mars, Almond Joys, Snickers, Butter Fingers, Twix, Reese’s, Hershey’s, Milky Ways, Pay Days, Kit Kats, 3 Musketeers and granola bars.

Olivia never said much about the project or letters except, “I hope they get some fresh veggies and fruit too.”

Tomorrow marks the 10th anniversary of 9/11 (Today marks the 20th anniversary of 9/11) and while it may seem an odd way to remember, to commemorate the enormity of the event Olivia (now 29-years-old) and I will do what we do every year on 9/11. We will take a few moments of silence together and share a candy bar.

After, of course, we’ve eaten our fresh veggies and fruit.