exercise @ work

The unit I work on (MICU) just moved to a brand spankin' new Critical Care Tower. The patient rooms are almost twice the size of the old ones. The floors are beautiful hardwood laminate as opposed to the out of date linoleum we had before. We have bariatric rooms with lifts in the ceilings to save our backs (we frequently have patients who are 500+ pounds). Our new beds (around $34K each) play soothing music and can translate simple yes/no questions in 6 or 7 different languages. Overall it is wonderful.
The only drawback is the size. We also have 10 extra rooms to add to the space of our already larger rooms. Out of curiosity, I wore a pedometer to work last week. (I didn't go out and buy one. My son was given one at school to promote physical fitness). I wasn't a staff nurse that night. I was the "Help All" nurse. It is exactly what it states. We assist staff nurses with admissions, procedures, and respond to emergencies in the rest of the hospital. That night I took over 12,000 steps.
What does that even mean? How many miles is 12,000 steps you ask? Well, I googled it. 2,000 steps is approximately 1 mile. So I walked at least 5 miles. WOW. Add on top of that all the lifting of patients, equipment, and dialysis bags....I guess that means I can have an extra donut on saturdays when our lovely MDs bring us treats :)

Bronwen is definitely an Oggs

It's very strange to watch your children grow up. To see the traits of yourself, and family members long since passed, emerge in them. Even if they've never been around them to adopt the gestures/attitudes.

The last time I was at my dad's house he asked me... "So what's it like to watch yourself grow up?" He was referring to Bronwen's resemblance to me. I thought, I don't know, I didn't see myself grow up in the first place.

(Top: Me Bottom: Bronwen)

My grandfather, Billy Oggs (or "B" to our family), died when I was 16 so none of my children knew him. But everyday I see him in my daughter.

(Gaga & B, a.k.a. I'belle and Billy)

When Bronwen is told "NO" or doesn't get her way, she marches off and finds something to throw. She'll yell NO or DON'T! She'll find a door to slam or walk up to the table and hit it. And I keep expecting to hear her yell "GOD DAMMIT!!!" just like her great-grandfather, grandmother, and mother.

Insert Clever Title Here

So there's a Church of Christ very close to our house. Their sign out front usually has who's the most recent members and baptisms, typical stuff. But every now and then they try to put something clever up. The newest one was almost a paragraph so I didn't get the whole message until I'd driven by about four times. But here's what it says: "Honk If You Love Jesus. Text Message While Driving If You Want To Meet Him Now."

It's funny if not a little morbid. But what strikes me as more than a little ironic is that the message is so long that it would more than likely make you wreck if you tried to read it all at one go. There's no good place to pull over to read it since both sides of the road are ditches. Most people would have better luck driving while texting than reading. As I said, it took more than a couple of drive-bys for me to get it.

As the host (Marc Maron) of my new favorite podcast says "WTF?"

I'll try to get a picture before they take it down and post it here. (and here it is...)

National Lampoon's Beach Vacation 2009

We'd been looking forward to a trip to the beach for quite a while. John took off a week from work, and we couldn't wait to see the kids on the beach. My mom graciously rented a five bedroom house in Cape San Blas, FL which is just a ways past Mexico Beach heading east on hwy 98 from Panama City. We planned to leave sunday morning, John's birthday, after I got home from work and drive all day, for an assumed nine hour drive. Or so said mapquest.com.

The Thursday prior to our departure, the kids started getting sick. It started with fever and lethargy, which turned into snotty noses and coughs by sunday morning. We decided that since the fevers had subsided, we'd continue on with our plans for our much needed vacation.

We left the house around 11 a.m. and made pretty good time as far as I could tell from the passenger seat. I dozed off and on since I'd worked twelve hours the night before. I woke from a decent nap when my mom called to check on our progress. She informed me that the last few turns on the Mapquest directions were completely wrong. Our plan was to call her at a specific turn onto hwy 30A (I think) and she'd meet us at the next turn, before the directions went to crap. This was also the point where she'd lost cell phone reception. (She was currently calling me from Port St. Joe where the nearest grocery store, a Piggly Wiggly, was located.)

After I got off the phone with her, John asked me how far we were from Gulf Shores. I assumed he meant 'how far is the beach house from Gulf Shores.' I told him that the place we were staying was no where near Gulf Shores. It was in fact about an hour east of Panama City, FL. If you aren't familiar with beach routes through Alabama, google it. He then informed me that we were on I-65 south about thirty minutes past Montgomery. My jaw dropped and I might have swallowed a swarm of bees before I could close it.
"You're joking right?" I asked
"No, I'm not."
"We're supposed to be on 231 south heading for Panama City!"

I'm almost certain I had explained the approximate location of our destination to him more than once. But, apparently he didn't hear me. Regardless, the printed mapquest directions were sitting just to his right the entire time. And since our atlas was in my car at home, I called my mom and she told us a shortcut through Greenville to Luverne to Troy where we could pick up 231. First crisis averted, we carried on.

At some point, Bronwen's post nasal drip exceeded her gastric capacity and one good coughing fit had her puking up Cheerios and soy milk. We stopped and, since I'm the mom and nurse, I had the pleasure of cleaning up the mess. (Although later John had the priviledge of getting the puke out of all the little nooks and crannies the child restraint buckles have.) Second crisis contained.

In Troy, we stopped at the WalMart to buy an atlas. We took this opportunity to let the kids stretch their legs and use the restroom as well. After settling the kids back in the van with their snacks, we hit the road, once again thanking the powers that be for TVs in vehicles. God bless the parent who thought that up.

When we got to Dothan, mapquest failed us again by giving us five different names for one street and we unknowingly missed our turn. John and I were both marvelling at the fact that there were two exact clusters of the same restaurants in one small town.

"We just saw these four places a little while ago. How weird is that?"
"And look, that Hooters has a silver truck out front just like the other one!"

Had we looked at the new atlas, we'd have noticed that there was a street that did a big circle all the way around the town. We got the turn on the second try and crisis three corrected with only about thirty minutes wasted.

Bronwen threw up again somwhere between Dothan and Panama City and we repeated the clean up routine.

We made it through Panama City without incident. I'm still constantly amazed that mapquest thinks it's easier to turn four times when, if you continue on 231, it runs right into hwy 98. After a long stretch of darkness, deer, and pine trees we made it to Port St. Joe. I called my mom to give her the heads up that we were getting close. She said we had another half hour or so. Great.
"Call me when you turn onto 30A and I'll meet you at the restaurant after the turn onto 30E (actually called Cliff-something-or-other) and that's the turn into the subdivisions. It's too hard to explain, and mapquest is competely off with their directions from there on." she said. I tried to respond but my phone cut out.

It was about 9p.m. when we got to the turn where I was supposed to call my mom. And of course, my phone had lost it's connection. John and I decided we could make it to the part where the subdivisions were, and maybe figure it out ourselves. WRONG. We tried every gated community, but the code we were given for entry didn't unlock any of them. We went back to the restaurant hoping that my mom would realize we'd lost reception and come to meet us.

We waited there a few minutes. We couldn't call her from a pay phone because there wasn't one. We drove back to the subdivisions to look for a road we might have missed. On our way down the street, we saw my stepdad and followed him in.

The road we missed was more like a firebreak in the forest. It was sand/dirt and there were strategic dips, bumps, and occasional large mounds of dirt you had to maneuver around. At 10:30 we got out of the van and the wind was blowing fiercely. John and I dragged the kids in, and he and my stepdad, Brian, unloaded the van. I don't remember most of that evening, just a blur really, and crisis four... done.

We all slept fitfully. The kids were all sick and we were starting to get the stuffy head/cough thing too. Between three kids, John and I were up about every two or three hours the first two nights.

Our first day at the beach was cold enough to keep us in jeans and fleece jackets. We spent most of the day in the house playing. Bronwen is completely obsessed with dogs, and to her joy my mom brought their dog Joe. He's getting older, and has a new seizure disorder, but he tolerated her with only a few grumbles.

Our last full day (wednesday) was great. It was warmer and we all got in the water a bit. We saw a few dolphins and lots of pelicans. Bronwen and Ian had a great time climbing up and down the three flights of stairs. I was thankful the elevator (yes, it had an elevator) was out of order, because surely my kids would have ridden it into its grave had it been operational. My calves on the other hand, were not used to so much exercise.

We planned to leave thursday and stay the night in Auburn,AL with my dad and stepmom. This would break up the long drive and give us an opportunity to see family. The best laid plans of mice and men......

We left around noon on thursday and hit every redlight between our beach house and Troy,AL. I'm not being sarcastic. We hit EVERY one! I think we averaged about 40 mph. Bronwen threw up three times, and she cries when we're driving after dark. Thank goodness we made it to Auburn just before sunset, crisis five... finished.

We enjoyed dinner with my dad, stepmom, stepsister and her husband. The kids were entertaining as usual.

We left Auburn at 10a.m. taking I-85 south to Montgomery and then I-65 north home so we could avoid all the traffic lights on 280. About ten miles from I-65, the check engine light came on and was blinking. I checked the manual and it didn't look good. The light went from blinking to solid and back, and the van started sputtering. John called his mechanic friend at work and we were advised to stop soon and get the van checked. Here we go with crisis six....

We found a Ford dealership fairly easily. The guy assured us he'd get us through as quickly as possible and we set up camp in their lobby. Three sick kids and two grumpy adults. I felt very sorry for the other customers. The only entertainment was a collection of car pamplets, on Highlights magazine, and several copies of a children's bible book. After an hour of waiting, the kids quickly tired of this and started running in circles around the chairs. John and I, fed up with waiting, didn't even try to stop them.

John went back to the van to get drinks for the kids and see what progress was being made on the van. No progress had been made, they said the engine was too hot to look at it. Dagan fell asleep in a chair while Ian and Bronwen continued their four yard dash back and forth from the chairs to the wall.

After two hours, I went to do a progress check. The girl I talked to sent a guy to the shop to get an update. While he was gone, she asked for my name. I assumed she needed to look up our van in the computer system.
"It's under John McNab." I replied.
"No, what's your first name?"
"Aven. Why do you ask?" I was very confused at this point.
"You used to be Aven Jeffers right? I think you lived across from my grandmother in Auburn."
I told her yes, I was from Auburn, and she said "I knew you looked familiar." I could care less at this point, but I smiled and nodded secretly hoping a familiar face would speed things up.

The man came back and told me that they didn't know what was wrong with the van yet and right now everyone was out to lunch. Well, I thought, that's just great. They're taking their lunch break while the five of us are starving and filled with boredom. Typical. I called work to let them know I probably wouldn't make it back to Nashville in time to come to work. Shortly after, our not so helpful attendant told us we needed new spark plugs and the wires were fried as well. Only three were damaged but they only came in kits of six. John told him he knew for a fact they didn't because he works for Ford and they don't HAVE to be sold six at a time. The man said the wires came in a set but the plugs didn't, blah blah blah......

I went back to the van and retrieved a box of food. I set up our mess hall on the one table in the waiting room. I made sandwiches for everyone, except Dagan who can't eat gluten (he had veggies and almonds...his choice).

Two more hours and $443.75 later, we were leaving the hell that is 440 East Blvd. Montgomery AL, and heading home. The irony of this is that we never get four and a half hours straight to spend with our kids. We normally only get a few hours at home as a family and here

we had to spend this "quality" time in Hades. What a waste.

We made good time on the road and made it home by 8p.m. And Bronwen only threw up once. Funny thing is, she only throws up if she has a cold and is in the car. She's never thrown up on trips before, and didn't throw up when we were out of the car.

John and I thought we'd get the kids out, put a movie on, unload the car, eat, and then go to bed. Crisis seven, the TV is broken. I could almost see the steam coming out of John's ears as he mumbled like Yosemite Sam. I quietly suggested we take the TV out of our room and put it in the living room (since we never use it anyway). He did that while I unloaded the van. All the kids were picky eaters after being in the car all day and really didn't eat much. Finally, at 10:30 I called work to see if they needed me to come in, and thankfully they said no. Even though, I could've used the getaway.

Summary: The vacation from hell is proof of Murphy's Law. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. And it did, but no one got hurt and we're all very glad to be home.

Here are a few pics of our better and more peaceful moments :)

I *heart* Scotland

I've loved all things Scottish for as long as I can remember. I could listen to their accents all day and never tire of it. Some of my favorite books and movies are based on Scotland. The music is no exception. I'm a big fan of Belle & Sebastian, Silly Wizard, The Whistlebinkies, Camera Obscura, The Proclaimers, and on and on and on.....

John and I went to ATL Sunday night to see a band that I'm slightly obsessed with. OK, maybe slightly is a bit of an understatement. They're called We Were Promised Jetpacks, out of Glasgow, Scotland. Not only is this the greatest name for a band EVER, but the music is addictive too. I highly recommend a listen if you like rock music. They opened for two other bands from Scotland (The Twilight Sad & Frightened Rabbit) who were great as well. But I really went to see WWPJ. They rocked The Masquerade for sure. Afterwards, they were nice enough to hang out with fans. I got my LP signed and took a picture with the band. Very cool guys.

(from the left) Sean Smith-bass, Darren Lackie-drums, John, me, Adam Thompson-vocals/guitar, and Micheal Palmer-guitar.

Of course, I had to let them know that most of their album was on my playlist for writing. So now I have to figure out a way to write in Micheal (guitar) into the novel. haha. He requested to be the killer which might be weird since my character's last name is Jackson.

Anyway, with the assistance of a $70 beer tab (between John and myself), I had a pretty bad hangover the next day. I'm quickly realizing that I can't hang with the youngsters anymore. At least I can't recover as fast as they do. Which is why this blog is just being posted (3 days later).

So go out and get their album "These Four Walls." It rocks. If you can't find it in a store, you can download it from Amazon or from their label's website (FatCat Records).

P.S. (I'm adding this in a week later) If possible, I'm even more obsessed with this band and their debut album. I listen to it all the way through at least 3-4 times a day. And to quote the band, "I'm not even kidding!" I listen to it while trying wake up and cook breakfast for the kids ('Keeping Warm' specifically), and most of the whole album at work with the volume low so I can hear my patient's alarms, lol. I'm sure my coworkers are very annoyed with me for constantly humming the tunes and sometimes singing the songs out loud along with my iPod.

And just so you all know the lengths to which I'll go to see this band .... we had John's parents drive 2 hours to our house to keep the kids for us, and then we drove 3 1/2 hours to Atlanta for the concert. Not to mention, I swapped my regular sunday night shift for a weekday shift to have the night off. Being the opposite of a morning person, this was a big deal.

I'm very hopeful that they'll be playing a show when I'm in Scotland next May. That would be a great 30th birthday present for me :)

The Highlight of My Year

The day has come and gone entirely too fast. Last night was the book signing for Diana Gabaldon's newest Outlander novel, An Echo in the Bone. I've been looking forward to this for some time. For those of you who know me well enough, you know how obsessed I am with this author and her books, specifically the Outlander series. Hands down, the best books I've ever read.

My friend and former coworker, Erin, met me at the bookstore. She drove up from Huntsville, AL for the day. We were like two teenagers meeting the Beatles. I didn't even remember to eat dinner I was so excited. Dagan's stepmom Cara was also there with her own stack of books to get signed.

Diana spoke for about 40 minutes, then answered questions from the audience. The first question was one I had planned to ask: "What if any music do you listen to while you write?"

Her answer was that she didn't routinely listen while she wrote, but that nearing the end of this book she was listening to The Proclaimer's "I'm Gonna Be (500 miles)". I squealed with delight because this song, among other Proclaimer's songs, was on my own Playlist to listen to while writing. It was also the song I was listening to on my iPod when I pulled into the bookstore's parking lot that night.

Several of the questions were pointless, since their answers can be found on the author's website. There were many eye rolls from Erin, Cara, and myself. But the worst part was when this incredibly rude/dumb woman standing behind D.G. interrupted her to shout "I'm back here, and I have a question." I swear there was an audible gasp from the audience. But Diana was poised, and turned to the lady and answered her silly question. Her question was something about Diana's lineage and how her family came to the US in the 1800's. To be honest I didn't pay attention because I was so appalled that she'd interrupted her in the first place.

After answering questions, she read an excerpt from 'Echo' and it was a little racey. Erin, who's 19 year old son had been dragged along for our adventure, was standing behind me red faced with embarrassment because of the content D.G. chose. She whispered to me "I can't laugh with my son right here!"

After the reading, they called the first group of people to get their books signed. We were the third group, so we had a bit of time to wait. I desperately needed a beer to calm my nerves :) Cara mentioned there was a restaurant attached to the store. It looked like a coffee shop to me, but they did in fact have beer. So Erin, Cara, and I had a Blue Moon. And Erin's son Kyle, had a Dr. Pepper. By the time we'd finished our liquid fortification, it was time for our group to line up.

When our turns arrived, Cara went first, myself second, and Erin third. The staff was kind enough to take our pictures and we all took pictures of each other too. I swear to God, my palms were sweating and my heart was racing. I felt extremely stupid. But I walked up for my turn and tried not to act the way I felt. The bookstore staff had placed post-it notes inside each person's book with their name printed so we didn't have to waste time spelling our names. This was great since NO ONE can ever spell my name. When Diana opened my book, she said "That's a very pretty name!" I don't even know if I said thank you or not, because my ears were ringing at this point. I had two other books for her to sign, one for my mom and one for my nursing school buddy Jenny. She was almost done with my books when I finally said something. I told her about my listening to The Proclaimers. And I told her that Erin and I (and our husbands) were taking a Jamie and Claire tour of Scotland in May.

Then it was over. I needed another beer ;)

Cara and I got another beer, and Erin and Kyle said their goodbyes. Erin and I said "See you in Scotland." But hopefully we'll see each other before then.

I only got about five hours total of sleep last night, and I'm slightly hungover since I never ate last night. And the odds are against me for getting a nap before work tonight. BUT, I'm sure the high of last night will carry me through a 12 hour shift @ Vanderbilt.

writing continued

So, my writing has gotten easier. And I think better, the more I write. I've been averaging 8-12 novel length (250 words/page) pages per day. I'm constantly amazed at the writing process. I started out with a dim framework of an idea for the story. It has changed a little everyday as I get to know my characters better. What I'd thought to have as flashbacks, has turned into a major part of the story line. So, now I have to re-write some of my earlier stuff to coincide with my "flashbacks." Anyway. I'm still a long way from being close to a finish. I know how it will end, now I have to figure out how it begins, lol.

writing styles and conquering the block

As I mentioned before I'm writing a book. While this is true, I'm quickly realizing what a daunting task I have taken on. The first few days of writing churned out around 4-6 pages per day. I've gone back and tweaked them a bit, and am pleased with them so far.

Today, I'm struggling over a few things.

1. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. I have all these ideas for scenes/chapters and I don't know where to start. Last week I simply wrote whatever scene stuck out in my head and wouldn't let me be. Now though, I can't seem to focus on one to elaborate.

2. I have mostly been writing in 1st person, my main character's. Though I'd really like to tell parts of the story in at least one other character's perspective, maybe two. I like books that do that. I'm not sure I can pull it off. I guess all I can do is try and see.

3. I have ideas for flashbacks, but I'm not sure if they're distracting to the reader or if it might annoy the reader.

4. I just don't know if it's really good. I think it is, and so far, the people who've read it say it's good. But they're my friends and family. I hope they're being honest, but that little demon called Doubt is rearing its ugly head.

Sometimes your horoscope is actually useful

This was originally posted via Facebook August 13, 2009. I find that it's appropriate this week since I have started to write a book. Who knows how long it'll take me since most of my days are like this........

"Thursday, Aug 13th, 2009 -- You are not likely to veer off course today, even if an alternate route looks better than the one you have already chosen. One of your strengths now is to be able to recognize that there are different ways to reach the same goal and that what works for someone else isn't necessary your best choice. Graciously acknowledge the ideas that are presented to you and then get back to what you were doing."

Looks like my horoscope is spot on today. So, what started out as the day from hell, is gonna be alright.

To start the day off right, coffee in hand, I have a not so great conversation with my mortgage person. She tells me that instead of $8700 in closing costs (which we couldn't have come up with anyway) it's gonna be $9900! If I had nearly $10,000 sitting around, I wouldn't need to refinance my house! So our refinance is off. But now we can pay cash for our Scotland trip instead of putting all our savings towards the refi.

Fast forward to 10am-ish, and Ian presses some magical button on the remote that cuts off our cable. Every damn channel is ant wars. Steam now shooting out of my ears, I declare TV broken, and that's that. Bronwen waltzes over to the TV a few minutes later, turns it on, and SURPRISE.....it works again.

So lunch time arrives. I'm fixing the boys some nourishment, and I hear what is either water pouring onto the floor, or someone peeing on it. Now, both the little ones are wearing diapers, and I am hoping like hell that Dagan hasn't taken up the habit of peeing where he shouldn't. I look around to find Bronwen holding a tub of Vaseline in one hand and the other crammed in the jar squishing it vigorously. She has the equivalent of boxer's gloves worth of goo on both hands. Good news is, that's the only place the stuff made it. Quick and easy clean up, but now we're out of Vaseline.

SO! I'm going to listen to my horoscope. I'm going to "graciously acknowledge the ideas that are presented" and start writing all my daydreams/ideas down on paper (or a Word document most likely). Who knows, maybe I'll have enough for a whole book. Goddess knows I've read plenty of them.

Here goes. I'm making lemonade out of my lemons. If things keep going like today, I'll need some Vodka to put in it though.

Old Christmas Story

This was originally written December 4, 2007. I was 6 months pregnant with Bronwen at the time. So, here's our story of going to see Santa.......

So today's the big day. We're going to see Santa. And like all excursions in my family, there were plenty of obstacles. I picked up Dagan from school as usual, no problems yet. He sat down to have a snack and some juice before the big trip to the mall. Ian was asleep on the couch. Now, Dagan knows we don't play with things at the kitchen table....It's a rule, always has been. He decides to try to open a big yellow highlighter, which is difficult for 6 year old hands. He pulls as hard as he can and WHAM!!!!!! The cup of juice next to his hand goes flying all over me and the floor. I'm about to lose it. So, in my usual fashion, I fly off the handle and ferociously tell Dagan that "this is exactly why we don't play with stuff at the table!!!!!" I swiftly clean up the mess. By now, Ian is awake. I fed Ian, and get the boys dressed in their new duds, and off we go. We find the mall okay (we've never been to the swanky mall in Brentwood/Cool Springs before). I get out of the car, lock the doors (still open), and open the trunk. As I close the trunk, the last open door swings shut with Ian and my purse safely locked inside. To my ever increasing demise, Dagan had already exited the car having securely shut his door. Which, by the way, he can't seem to do any other day of the week. Thankfully, a nice rich lady let me borrow her phone and I called John. He's on his way. Thank the Gods! Another generous passerby offers to get security for me. Two old guys and a kid who didn't look old enough to be driving the security truck show up. Dagan and I are freezing, and Ian is very content and warm in the car. Security calls the Fire dept. After a 5 minute wait and maybe another 5 minutes to break into my car, Ian (as well as my purse/phone) is FREEEEEEEEE!!!! This is what Christmas is all about. Helping our neighbors and being kind to others. So spread the holiday spirit, and be nice to people even if you're in a bad mood. It'll make your day a little brighter. P.S. The visit with Santa went great. Both the boys look handsome as ever!

Memory of 9-11

This was written on the morning of September 11, 2009........

Eight years ago, I was walking in my neighborhood, trying to start up contractions. I was overdue by at least a week already, and just plain tired of being pregnant. I tried every little trick suggested (sex, riding down bumpy roads, walking) and none of it worked.

So on that ill-fated day, I came inside from yet another attempt at going into labor, to find the world in turmoil. My answering machine was flashing like a strobe light with messages, mostly from my mom. They all said something along the lines of “turn on the TV.” So I did. You all remember what we saw.

The next day, I reported to my scheduled OBGYN appointment. Everyone was so dejected. Shell-shocked. Can you believe it? Of course you know the gas prices will go up. My sister lives in NYC. What are we going to do? My father works at the Pentagon. All of these things, thought or said, were fresh on everyone’s minds.

There was no progress with a “natural” labor, so I was sent to the hospital to start induction. I spent the next 58 hours trying kick-start my labor by means of medications and uncomfortable monitors. Finally, on September 14, 2001 at 21:38 I had a healthy baby boy via cesarean, William Dagan Aston.

The whole time I was in the hospital, five days total, I really hadn’t absorbed the events of 9-11. Driving Dagan to school today we were listening to the radio. We heard lots of things about the events that happened eight years ago. Dagan asked me about 9-11. I said that some very bad people kidnapped some planes with good people on them. Then they crashed the planes and killed thousands of innocent people.

It was more upsetting to tell an 8 year old what happened than to remember it. It gave it a voice. Made it real all over again. I found myself in the line to drop off kids at school teary eyed, snot nosed, in my pajamas, and out of coffee. Driving back home, my thoughts still on 9-11, I thought there’s no way to explain that day. Just saying some bad people killed some good people doesn’t begin to cover it. For those who were not old enough to know what was going on or weren’t even born yet, there isn’t anything we can tell them. Only facts. Just like the Kennedy assassination and Pearl Harbor are to my generation. We know a terrible thing happened, but it doesn’t affect us as much.

I hope you all remember, as if we could really forget. Just like the Holocaust and slavery, September 11, 2001 should never be forgotten. And if you find yourself explaining to a child some horrible event in history, you might get emotional and maybe even tear up like I did. Or not. It doesn’t matter. As long as we tell them.