September 11, 2001 - NEVER FORGET!

Nearly 10 years ago, I was still on the Phoenix Fire Department in my final months. It was a quiet morning as I sat in my office at our retired Historic Station 8. I was listening to the radio and doing some paperwork.
At first I did not clearly hear the beginning of a report from New York City. I turned the volume up and sit there glued to every word as the reporter said. “The North Tower of the World Trade Center was just hit by an airplane.” I was stunned, but not devastated. After nearly 26 years on the fire department, I was use to calls to disasters. Most of the time, its media hype. I leaned back listening to the rest of the story. A few minutes later, they reported a second plane struck the other WTC tower. Now I was devastated. This was no accident, or pilot error, it was intentional and deliberate. But why, and who? The answer became obvious as I sat there hanging on every word and scene from the old TV I scrambled to hook-up and tune in to live news. Pictures of the two towers burning intensely more than 70 to 90 stories above ground level were burned into my memory. It was tho; someone punched me in the gut. People were running away in panic, while others staring skyward toward the burning towers. I could not move.
Nearby fire stations responded immediately and began to enter the buildings guiding occupants down the stairs, as they climbed upward. Police Officers herded the street crowd in directions away from the towers. I heard of one firefighter called his father, sobbing as he ran up the staircases.
Within a little more than an hour of the first crash, the South Tower started to crumble and collapse. Dust fell to the ground and rolled through the streets in a wall of gray-brown dust. People dashed in any doorway to escape the engulfing wave. Falling debris crushed fire trucks, car and people. About 30 minutes later, the North Tower crashed to the ground too. I prayed out loud for all the occupants and firefighters to get out safely. But they did not.
Minutes before the South Tower collapsed, the Pentagon was hit by a third airplane. Then, it was announced Flight 93 crashed in a field in Pennsylvania, after the passengers rushed the terrorist. We would later learn all four airlines were hijacked by a group of radical Middle Eastern terrorists connected to Al Quaeda, headed by a man called Osama Bin Laden. We would hear those names numerous times in the next few years.
In the days that followed, the personal stories captured every minute of our lives on radio and TV. So much that some people thought we were at war and Al Quaeda was invading nationwide. I was concerned about relatives and friends close to New York City. I started calling to check on them.
Search and rescue of survivors started immediately. Firefighters, Police and volunteers began to dig in the rubble. Search and Rescue teams from every fire department in the U.S. began to organize their deployment to NYC to assist. Rescue dog teams responded to help the searchers.
The site of the twin towers was acres of smoldering concrete, steel, glass floating dust. It was not a safe environment for anyone, but the searchers did not care. They dug in, turning over concrete and steel bits, yelling in hopes of hearing a survivor’s voice and scanning the rubble for life.
Days passed slowly as Americans were hypnotized to the TV watching more of the story evolve. More rescuers arrived to join the already an army of rescuers. Firefighters piled into their vehicles and drove straight through to New York City to help their brothers. Several of my retired FDNY friends hooked-up with active members to drive to their old hometown. I was assigned to organize the logistics for our department Search & Rescue Team deployment. Added to my responsibilities, Historic Station 8 became the drop-off location for citizens to donate dog food, gloves, goggles, socks, flashlights & batteries and energy bars for the rescuers. Phoenix and the entire country rallied with the display of thousands of American flags and supported NYC in its dark day.
The hands-on physical search for survivors lasted for days before it became obvious no living people could be found. The heavy equipment moved in and slowly started to dig into the piles. Temporary morgues were sat up to perform the monumental DNA testing for identification of victims. Many bodies would never be found and some there were only pieces. Anytime a body part or an article was found, machines stopped, and the vicinity was searched. A very slow, ponderous process. Everything was performed with respect for the victims and their families.
Over 3,000 Americans died on September 11th. 343 of those were firefighters who knew they may not come out of those towers alive, but went in anyway. They knew they may never see their loved ones again, but they went in anyway. They knew their families and friends would suffer due to their deaths, but they went in anyway. Those firefighters, Police Officers and a few good citizens made the decision to risk their lives so that others might survive, and many did.
Being a hero is not something you suddenly decide you are going to be. You just do what is needed to be done, and never consider the final cost.
Now 10 years later, the site of the twin towers has been cleared. Their original footprints are a memorial to those who died. A museum as a reminder of the event and new towers are being built close by. New York City is back. The city and the country are stronger, but with a scar they will NEVER FORGET. I know I will not.

Bob Cat visit

Yesterday afternoon, my wife yelled, "OH,OH!" I said, "What's the problem?" "There's a Bob Cat on the patio." "Inside the patio?" "Come look!" I did, and it was laying next to our screened-in patio. I opened a window, yelled at it and scared it away...but not far. It went about 50 feet to our outdoor kitchen (Ramada) and laid under an over hanging counter top bar. I shot this from about 125 ft. away. I did not want to get really close. Even tho it looked young, they're still nothing to mess with. Eventually, later that early evening, it went away into the desert without saying good-bye.

Western RV trip

Just getting back from our most recent RV trip, I must reflect the beautiful views and great time we experienced.
We started traveling north through Northern Arizona into Utah. After a day layover in Nephi, we continued North through the edge of Idaho to West Yellowstone, Montana, where we stayed for four nights. We met with some friends and toured Yellowstone National Park. Wildlife abundant and lots of super hot bubbling mud. Next, we continued East to Cody Wyoming, and visited the Buffalo Bill Cody Museums. This guy was a true American icon. Then we turned south into the west side of the Rockie Mountain National Park. Soaring mountains, more wildlife, buffalo-jams and really steep hiking.
Next, we kept going South and East to the Denver area to meet with some of Nancy's relatives. Great visit! Then back onto the back roads to southern Colorado/Northern New Mexico for a fun ride on a historic steam-powered train.
The last stop-over was in Grants, New Mexico to experience the local Indian lore, ruins and breathtaking canyons and parks.
The last day was heading home through the high country of Eastern Arizona and the "Rim country".
I REALLY condensed the description. It was a lot to see in just three weeks, but glorious. From Old Faithful of Yellowstone, to standing just yards from a mother Moose and her calf, to riding the highest narrow-gauge steam operated train in the world. This is a trip we will never forget. After these trip, I always take time to thank God for being so fortunate to be able to travel like this, and to see the beauty of our great country. We are VERY blessed, and know it.