It Was a Beautiful Morning - Repost 2026

 There are so many young adults that had no personal experience with the events of 9/11. Life went on with their parents, the shock had worn off, and the significance of being attacked by members of a cult that demands the death of those that don't follow their beliefs isn't apparent in today's society. The terror continues today, although you don't find much about in the mainstream media. 

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It was an early Fall. The temperature was in the mid 50's and the skies were crystal clear. I had just finished breakfast and we were driving to the job site in the twilight of dawn. The motel was close to our project site, so the trip was short.

Traffic was light as we placed the advance warning signs and started closing down the inside lane of U.S. 59 in Cleveland, Texas. We had five sections of concrete to pull. We sawed the concrete the day before, drilled lifting holes and now needed to pull the sections of failed pavement and start preparing for the new concrete. The pour was set for 10:00 am.

It didn't take long for the lifting machine to pull the first section of paving. As soon as the broken slab was moved to the shoulder, the crew started drilling holes for the anchors. When the anchors were placed, the crew placed a mat of rebar and moved to the next patch.

The procedure was moving as planned, so all five patches were well on the way to being prepared by 8:00 am. We would be ready for the concrete. I checked the work and started documenting the sizes on a daily report.

Around 30 minutes later, my boss called my cell phone. I assumed he was checking our progress, but he wanted to tell me that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Towers. He didn't have any details. I wondered what failure had led a pilot to fly their small plane into the tower. Bad weather? An error in judgement? I thought about it for a few minutes and then went back to work.

It didn't seem very long after that when my boss called me again, which I thought would be a progress check. It wasn't. He explained that it was a passenger jet that hit the first tower and another had flown into the second tower. He described the preliminary news feeds he was watching on television. I could only stare while my mind raced.

We continued working. My boss kept me informed. It was now clear it was a planned terror attack. He was in contact with the area engineer office for the Texas Department of Transportation. We were working for them and their decisions would decide whether we would pour concrete, which required hours of time to set, or place a temporary material to be removed in the future. The decision was to proceed as we always did, so we prepared for the concrete pour.

Before the concrete arrived, my wife called. She was terrified and wanted me to come home. I told her I couldn't leave until the concrete was poured and we were off the highway. Even then, I couldn't leave if we were to continue with our project. I told her I would come home immediately if the project was shut down, and to go to her mother's if she became too worried.

More information was now available, so I knew there was an immediate call for all air traffic to land. I noticed the absence of air traffic immediately. We were close enough to Bush International in Houston to see the constant flow of air transports, which dwindled and eventually ended.

We poured the concrete and started the process of preparing for the next day. I went to the motel to catch what I could on television. The loops of the impacts, the falling towers and the smoking section of the Pentagon was almost unbelievable. My mind was having a hard time wrapping around the fact we had been attacked and the result was the death of thousands of innocent people.

We finished the day as usual. We were prepared for the next day when we started opening the lane in the early afternoon. I had spent long minutes as we were finishing staring at the empty skies, It was bizarre to not see the heavy air traffic. Contrails from military jets stretched across the skies. I wondered if they were ours, or the jets of an enemy that was in the process of invading.

I had kept in contact with my wife during the day. After I reached the motel, we had a long conversation. She was calmer. I knew she still wanted me to come home, but she understood that it probably wouldn't happen until the week was over. Since I was only about two hours from home, I reassured it wouldn't take long to reach home if anything changed.

Watching television was like watching a fictional disaster movie. I was still having a hard time wrapping my head around the events of the day, but it was becoming clearer that it was a middle eastern terror group. My anger was rising and all I could think of  was how cowardly it was to attack innocents. I wanted our military to bomb half the Middle East to Hell. Kill them all and let God sort them out.

I'll never forget that day. Time stopped and it became apparent that the cruelty in the world is always only moments away. Barbarians had tested our defenses and managed to find a weak spot for their advantage. It wasn't a pleasant thought then and still isn't. I feel no compassion for such people and can only offer their death be swift, although many days I'd prefer they would suffer the agony of those trapped on the upper floors of the World Trade Center Towers.  Even after years, I'm still angry. I'm not ready to forgive, or forget. 

The Luck of the Draw

 A jet, for whatever reason, lands too late, doesn't stop before the end of the runway, slams through a fence, T-bones a crew van, and five people in the van left work for the last time in their life. The NTSB is investigating, attorneys are sharpening their knives, and five families are now adjusting to something totally unanticipated. The families of those that survived in the van are dealing with the horrendous injuries of their loved ones. May God ease their suffering. Prayers are all that is left for them. Whatever happened, the flight crew that survived will have something on their mind that will never leave. 

The video at the following link has an assessment by a professional pilot of what he sees as pilot error for the crash. It's interesting and informative, and doesn't look good for the pilots.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xm6G7EOP5Qc

Bad Karaoke

I have a neighbor that will turn up the volume, and play their music a little loud on some weekends. Usually, it doesn't bother me, since I can't here it in the house, and much of the music I like. Unfortunately, they sometimes like to sing with the music. The off-key, cat wallowing can be annoying, but tonight they crossed a boundary. Some young female was singing with "Can't You See", and butchering a fine song by the Marshall Tucker Band. That's terrible, unconscionable, and there is probably some criminal charge needing to be made. I'm sure they thought they were doing a fine job, and those around probably held their ears. I know their beagles didn't start howling until the next evisceration of a country song, but I understand why, and wonder if the song before was crossing their line too.

The Surgery is Over

On Monday, I was notified of my hernia surgery time. It started as an arrival time of 11:30 am. About 30 minutes later, it was changed to 9:00 as the arrival time. I set my alarm to 4:30 am, and went to bed at around 10:30 pm. 

The alarm woke me at 4:30, and I ran the snoozes out. I was out of bed a little before 5:00, checked the radar, and saw the tropical storm had strengthened a little. The new track was showing a bullseye on where I was having surgery, and would be coming ashore at somewhere around 2:00 in the afternoon. Theoretically, that would be somewhere around the time I would be arriving home. 

My wife, and I, arrived at the hospital early, and the check-in was complete at 9:00 am. There was no long wait before they took me to be prepped, which gave me the hope the surgery would be started as soon as the one ahead of me was finished. 

Prep involved the usual questions, putting in an IV, taking off everything, putting on a gown, and something I didn't expect: shaving the lower stomach and groin. Some questions to the nurse revealed this was sometimes done in the surgery room, but since it expedited the surgery, some doctors preferred it being complete before the patient was wheeled in for surgery. The nurse explained some doctor preferred to shave the patients. I'm guessing that ensured not having to increase an area to be shaved, or extra time to finish a shave they find incomplete. The nurse had me pull up my gown, and went to work. I told my wife this will make it appear as though I have crabs when the hair starts growing back. The nurse smiled, and I thought of how past experiences of shaving my beard left some days where the itch of the hair growing back could be maddening.

The surgeon came in a few minutes later, explained the procedure, marked where the surgery would be performed on my groin, and signed the marking. He also explained his surgery room had some type of A/C problem, which was delaying my surgery. My wife asked how long should the surgery take. He answered it would probably take about an hour and a half after the A/C is repaired. 

After the doctor left, another nurse came in and told me the delay could be extended if the warmer temperature caused the instruments to condensate. If that happened, they would have to replace all of them, which would further the delay. She, also, told me to go pee. I told her I didn't think I had any in me, but she said to try anyway. This made me think the delay could be long.

After squeezing out some pee, I returned to the prep room and told my wife she could leave if she wanted. At this point in any surgery, it's a waiting game. They would call when I was in recovery, and she already had my wallet. The nurse told her my clothes would follow me to recovery, so it gave my wife a break from basically just watching me wait. She would be more comfortable downstairs where there was a coffee/bakery shop, and plenty of comfortable seats. My wife asked the nurse if she had any idea how long the surgery would be delayed. The nurse guessed at least thirty minutes, so my wife decided to leave. I told her she had time to run some errands if she wanted, and she could get something to eat. The nurse told my wife I would be placed in an initial recovery room on the second floor. After they felt I was stable, they would transfer me to a ground floor room to prepare me for leaving. They would come for her at that time for final instructions, and from there I would be wheeled out to an adjacent drive where outpatient surgery patients are picked up.

It wasn't long before they came for me. They wheeled me down some corridors, and I knew we were close to the surgery room by the cooler air. When the door was opened, a blast of cold air let me know my surgery would soon start. I heard the anesthetist state it was 11:30. 

They shifted me out of the gurney onto the table, hooked up my IV, put a mask over my face, and gave me the "I don't care" injection. After that, I don't remember much, except some pretty severe pain in the downstairs recovery room and the nurse giving some more morphine. After that, I don't remember getting dressed, but I do remember the nurse getting rained on putting me in the car. It was 2:00 pm, and tropical storm Edouard was officially coming ashore about 50 miles to the southeast. The first rain bands were arriving. 

We drove out of the rain before reaching home. We stopped for some potato soup at Schlotzsky's. I wasn't really hungry, but would be later.  It was a few hours before the heavy rain arrived, but it didn't take long for the rain to start. I was feeling drowsy, so I went to lay down for a short nap. I napped for a few minutes before the first torrential blast of rain arrived. The sound of it on the side of the house woke me, so I got up to watch the weather. I made a cup of coffee. I remarked to my wife how it was one of the best cups of coffee I've ever had. Within minutes, it came back up while I was in the kitchen. Needless to say, in my condition, I wasn't much help in cleaning the mess. My apologies seemed hollow with such an occurrence. It was too soon to eat.

It rained for at least an hour, and didn't let up. The wind was probably a steady 35 mph, with gusts to 50 mph. After the heavy rain stopped, we had hours of light rain, and windy conditions. The rain finally ended at around dusk, but radar showed a band on the southeast side of the storm approaching. It arrived after dark, and the thunderstorms trained around the storm, which had stopped moving. I don't know how much rain we received in the second batch, but it was at least as much as the first round of rain, and my rain gauge was full the next morning. Just north of us received up to 20 inches, but judging from the water around my house, we were somewhere around 10 inches of rain. 

Somewhere during the first rain band, I tried a small helping of Jell-O, with some potato soup. It stayed down, but the hiccups started. My wife decided to go to bed. I couldn't sleep, so I stayed up to watch the weather, and to deal with the hiccups. They would stop for awhile, but soon start again if I so much as sipped water. To add insult to injury, the electricity would blip every few hours. I'd wait a few minutes to see if it would stay on, turn the television back on, and reset the clocks.  

Eventually, at around daybreak, the pain became more than I wanted to deal with, so I took a Tramadol. It stayed down, and it wasn't long before the hiccups stopped. The rain bands had moved north, and it didn't appear they would spiral back into our area. I finally went to bed, and slept until about 11:00 am. 

I'd forgotten the pain after my gallbladder was removed. Quick moves are a no-no, and sitting is more of a sliding into a chair motion. It's there, off and on, and will be there for days. After a week is should ease off enough to remind me I'm far from healed. Attempts at pulling, or lifting, will give me harsh reminders to not get into too much of a hurry. I'll return for a checkup in two weeks. As it appears right now, it will be good. I have no bruising, the three cuts for the instruments are showing no signs of infection, and I know I won't miss the hernia. Hopefully, I'll never have another. 

The Many

I've read news reports stating hundreds of thousands of children have basically disappeared. On one hand, the statistics may be inaccurate. On another, it's mind boggling to think that many children can't be accounted for. Where did they go? Some believe they're having their organs harvested, others believe they're being sold into slavery. Regardless, if even ten children disappeared in any community in the United States, the usual response is a demand to know what happened, where are they now, and if criminal charges are necessary, arrests should happen immediately. Logic tells me there is a cover-up by important people. Whether it is to prevent vigilantism,  or to hide culpability, isn't nearly important as exposing the events leading to these disappearances. Those involved don't deserve anything less than a quick swing from a rope, if they make it that far.