Day of Infamy

I was lying in bed, between that state of sleep and being fully awake when the phone rang. It was my husband's grandma, Clara McCorkle. She said (as she did EVERY time she called, no matter the time of day...), "Were you sleeping?" I half-lied, saying, "No", even though I was still half-asleep. She proceeded to tell me that our nation was under attack and at war. Grandma McCorkle had a certain notoriety for further-hyping things she learned via the drive-by media, so I listened as patiently as possible. As she began to describe the now infamous attack on the first tower, my interest and fear were piqued and I reassured her that everything would be fine. I told her I'd be over to her house as soon as I could, then we hung up. I quickly proceeded to get the alarm clock/radio that Ralph used to wake himself up every morning and take it into my son, Logan's, room. (His room got the best reception in our little double-wide in upper Yucaipa...) I tuned into KFI and laid down with my then three-year old in his bed, holding him tighter and tighter in horror at what I was hearing. Bill Handel was on, as it was his usual time slot, but he was relaying a commercial-free account of what he was watching unfold on the many news stations he was monitoring. I'll never forget him shouting, "The second tower is hit!" I jumped up from the bed, and forgetting my usual morning routine, scrambled to get to Grandma's house. Being at her house always made me feel safe, and never more so than that awful day. I hope that we, as a wonderfully free and privileged people will NEVER forget.