Journey Through the Great Sadness

I was pretty surprised when I was asked by WAVG to work as the correspondent for the WMD training video for the Pentagon. The group producing the project was out of Florida. The strange thing is that I can’t seem to remember the name of the company or the people with whom I worked. My mind is filled with scattered memories about various events surrounding 9/11.

I guess that’s one of the many things that bothers me about that time in my life. I remember the group responsible for the project had their own crew - photographer, audio, producer, etc. I remember thinking they were very nice but can’t recall much else about them.

We shot stand-ups in a variety of places around DC. One particular project had us going to a military base in Delaware. It wasn’t even a fully functioning base anymore; it mainly housed military personnel who were first responders. I was nervous about that day because I had to drive there on my own, and I’m not crazy about that huge bridge I had to cross!

Once I arrived, I felt a sense of foreboding. It seemed as if we were in the middle of nowhere, although we weren’t. As a military brat, I was used to the hustle and bustle of the Army bases where my dad was stationed. This was quite different.

The military personnel showed us around their equipment and vehicles that would be used in a first response scenario. I was quite impressed but also kept thinking, “There’s no way these guys will ever put this stuff to use; at least not from a WMD or terrorism perspective.” I suspect the foreboding was a bit of nervousness at just the suggestion of such an event occurring on our soil. We’re the United States of America - not Israel!

I liken it to watching video of a tornado. I’ve never seen one in real life and don’t particularly want to. I’m fascinated by weather events, especially tornadoes, but they scare the heck out of me. Every time I watch video of a tornado, I feel like the tornado will pop off the screen and come straight for me. I felt much the same way on this particular shoot.

I wonder where those men are today. Did they respond? Where did they go? New York? Washington, DC? Shanksville? What were their duties and how did they perform them?

I can’t remember the details of our discussion, and I wonder why. Why are there certain memories that are so vibrant in my mind’s eye while others are scattered? Why are the tragic memories more vivid while the memories that hold seemingly insignificant details seem distant?

I need to remember those details but can’t. Perhaps if I remember, it’ll help answer other questions or give me some pertinent information I might need for the next time. Apparently God has His reasons for blocking that stuff out of my mind. I suppose I should just stop fighting it and let the memories be.