There's a sense of solemnity in the air today as we mark 25 years since the stunning and deadly attacks on America.
Bill has already gone to town to put the American flag at the church to half staff.
First, it's hard to believe where the time went. This event happened during my last year of teaching.
Secondly, in our minds, time stood still as today we each remember unique vignettes of where we were, what we were doing and our initial shock at what had happened.
Bill had left for work, and I was working at my computer on last-minute items for the school day.
Our TV was on with the morning news.
I looked up and saw that something very strange had just happened in New York City.
After settling in to watching and wondering, I, like millions of others, witnessed the unbelievable sight of a plane hitting one of the World Trade Center towers.
This can't be real, I thought.
Sadly, however, within minutes, I knew that it was true and, as the stunning reality of the moment set in, my first instinct was to call my kids.
They were in Boise and students at Boise State University. Sept. 11 was one month after Willie and Debbie's wedding.
I don't remember the exact conversations, but I knew it was important to connect with them on what was unfolding as one of the most monumental, surreal and scary events of our lifetimes.
It was hard to pull myself away from the television coverage, but I finally drove to school on a beautiful morning, still in shock.
At Sandpoint High School, many who had already arrived before me were just learning of the event one by one.
I remember standing alongside other colleagues and students in the hallway, catching up on news, which now included one more attack, the Pentagon.
As the halls gradually filled up with students before the first bell, we all knew that whatever lesson plan we had created for the day was going to change.
In my classroom, we simply talked about what we had just seen and what it could mean for our respective futures.
I remember in one class where, partway through the hour, a young man asked to be excused.
His brother was in the Navy, and he felt it imperative to go home and find out what these attacks meant for his brother.
The gravity of the situation and still not knowing why it had all happened led to some flexibility with the usual classroom rules and routine.
On that day as news from the outside world continued to filter into the school, adults and kids alike were all on the same page, only we collectively had no idea what turning to the next page would involve.
Twenty-five years and a war or two later, we have all lived with the results of that day, especially through enhanced security.
For some of us, it's simply reflecting on the vivid memories of 9-11 and the days afterward where, to us, it seemed that Americans seemed more united than ever before.
I'll never forget standing with my mother and others dressed in red, white and blue on the pedestrian bridge the Sunday after the attacks. I also remember later driving around the Sandpoint neighborhoods which were adorned with American flags.
As we waved our flags on the bridge, the air was filled with honks and waves from drivers and passengers from the main bridge across Lake Pend Oreille.
For some of the students who sat in SHS classrooms that day, Sept. 11, 2001, would mean sacrifices, some ultimate, others lifelong. They joined the military and served in various venues around the world
One student always stands out in my mind.
He was soccer player and a junior in high school. Brandon Adam was already special in my mind, as were the other students in fifth period class---my very last English class of teaching. So, of course, I was going to remember them.
Brandon, however, shines in the minds of many as a soldier who lost his legs while serving in combat in the Iraq War.
One day--the same day I was having a launch for my third book at the Seasons at Sandpoint---I picked up the morning Spokesman Review and saw a story about Brandon on the front page above the fold.
It told of the severe injuries he had sustained due to an IED.
I still vividly remember the shock of learning from that story that he had joined the Army and had risen to the rank of sergeant. This day 25 years ago had guided Brandon that direction.
He came close to losing his life, but Brandon was a fighter, and he has demonstrated through the years that his extreme sacrifice would not stop him from making the most of his life as a proud American.
Brandon is married---to an English teacher. He's the father of two adorable young women. He has competed and won medals for skiing in the X games.
He loves golf and has a mechanized addition to his golf cart which allows him to play, especially in tournaments that support the Tunnels to Towers Foundation.
Brandon almost lost it all because of the decision he made on this day 25 years ago, but, thanks to a variety of support systems over the years, Brandon has continually demonstrated what it means to be a true American hero.
So, when I think of this day, I think of Brandon and all those other students who are now in their 40s.
They have seen America change dramatically in the past 25 years and not always in the most ideal ways.
I hope that we as a nation can use this day of remembrance to gather our wits about us.
May we honor the people who died that day, the soldiers who subsequently made ultimate sacrifices and individuals like Brandon by demonstrating that we can once again proudly call ourselves the UNITED States of America.
It would be nice.
Really nice.
