I ordered this bracelet from an on line store and I absolutely love it. And the best part is, a big chunk of the profits go to the charity "Homes for our troops". If you are looking for a really cool gift for someone, check out their webpage.
http://www.homesforourtroops.org/site/PageServer
This morning, my husband and I slept in. It was after eight before we woke. For a while, we just lay there remembering the events of this day ten years ago. We were both active duty then stationed in Arizona. We had just left assignments in the Washington, DC area less than a month prior (I was at Fort Belvoir, my husband was at the Pentagon). And we had just flown to Virginia and back with our son (not yet four years old) in late August for my twentieth High School Reunion.
When it all happened, my husband and I were both at work. Our son was at the Child Development Center (CDC) on post. My husband was the Senior Operations Officer. And, as it turned out, I was the senior person in my office that morning too. Both my military senior and our civilian boss were stuck off post when the gates were closed in response to the attacks. I was a Major. We received our directions from the leadership as to how to proceed and I went back downstairs to do what leaders do...assign tasks and get to work.
Then, we got word that the CDC was closing. I couldn't leave to pick up our son. I was in charge. So, I did the next best thing. One of the other soldier/mom's had her child to pick up. So, I called and asked if she could bring our son to my office. They agreed and she picked both the kids up. Well, we hadn't been on post long enough to complete our family care plan. When it happened we were still in-processing, getting our paperwork in order. We had no family nearby. They were all back east. I couldn't call anyone to take our son while I worked my military position. No...that morning, I was desperately trying to wear both hats (Officer in charge and mom) at the same time. Hard to do in crisis situations, but I managed. I took all the briefings, and worked all the tasks we knew to work at the time. Our son? He sat at my desk and colored. It was like his second home anyway. My boss had frequently asked me to return to work after picking him up. There was always a meeting or a project to deal with. My office mates were already like extended family.
When our office's military boss (a Lieutenant Colonel) came in, he told me to go home. I had done all I could do for now. It was time to take our child home. I felt deflated and I insisted I should stay. I could do it all. I mean, I was doing it all. But he knew, I had put in place the groundwork enough to hand the reins over to him...so I could go home and be mom. I knew in my heart he was right. This was no place for a little boy, even one where both his parents were Army officers. So, I held his hand and we left the building. We went home to our quarters there on post. I changed out of my uniform and waited for a call from work. I thought, perhaps I could do something from there. I had a computer and a phone.
Nowadays, there would be telecommuting. Not so much, in 2001. They never called. We watched television together, our young son and I, and I waited calmly for any questions he might have wondering how I might answer them with the little I knew.
When my husband and I finally got out of bed this morning, we decided to go for a walk (his idea by the way). We walked down to our son's new high school and back. Afterwards, we watched the news together as a family, went to a movie, and finished bagging up donations for the Lupus Foundation of America I'd set a goal of ten bags. In the end, we bagged twelve.
http://donate.lupus.org/site/PageServer.
Its been such a long time since that morning when our nation was attacked. The kids are grown up now and we are both long retired from active military service. We can't change what happened that day, but we can remember, we can take time out for charity, we can help out our neighbor, and we can say thank you to those who wear a uniform...the military, the police, and the firefighters who every day stand up and in their own way live by the words General Douglas MacArthur spoke so long ago, "Duty, Honor, Country."
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