Grace was born on December 7, 2000. There are many moments that I will never forget about the day of her birth. It will always be one of the greatest moments of my life. But lately, one memory that has been in my mind is relative to my Grandpa Schlater. My Grandma volunteered in the giftshop in the hospital where Grace was born. She came to my room and, together, very excited, we called Grandpa to tell him of Grace's arrival. I was greeted with his typical, wonderful, bellowing "hhhheeeyyyyyyy!!!!!" He asked how I was, how she was, how Bryan was... and then he paused and he said "Congratulations, Sara... I can't wait to meet her. It is a shame about her birthday though." I didn't get it.
December 7 is the anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. I realized that part of it, but I didn't understand the gravity of his sentiment. I knew that my Grandpa was a veteran. He served in the military and remembered the attack on Pearl Harbor. I knew all of this but I didn't understand any of it. It wasn't that I didn't try to understand it - I just wasn't equipped with the experience to appreciate it. In fact, I forgot the comment completely until nine months later.
I was teaching high school English---ninth grade English to be exact. Freshman. We were talking about metaphors and personification in T.S. Eliot poetry. My students found it difficult to believe that Andrew Webber had made millions off of turning these cat poems into a Broadway Musical. They were not buying it. We were laughing and enjoying the class and I saw my friend Lori at my door. She looked panicked. She is one of my very best friends and I could tell that this was urgent, so I walked over to the door and she grabbed me by both arms and said "The World Trade Center in New York was just hit by a plane. It is really bad. Do you think it was an accident?" I was silent. It could have only been seconds--- but it seemed as though the silence went on for so long. And, in that time I tried to measure so many things and I realized I couldn't comprehend this and because I couldn't fully comprehend it, I couldn't explain it to my students. I remember thinking that if it wasn't an accident, this was likely the start of World War III, and I made a conscious choice NOT to share it with my students. I went back to my class and continued teaching poetry--- I made a choice to preserve their innocence. This could have been the last few minutes of innocence my students had before they were "in the know," before they realized the presence and potential of evil and destruction. I just wanted to keep them safe.
The bell rang. Classes changed and it wasn't long before the kids knew what was happening. My AP students raged that this was a part of world history and they would do whatever I wanted for homeowrk, but could they please watch the news to see what was happening. One of my students had a family member in New York. Another had a mom who worked at Wright Patt. "Please, Mrs. Olding...we can't focus anyway---we are too worried." So, we watched together. We watched the coverage. We held hands and cried as one of the towers fell. They looked to me for an explanation that I didn't have. They asked questions I couldn't answer. I knew we would never forget the moment we were sharing, but I had nothing to offer them. I was lost. It was awful. AWFUL.
That night at home I was telling Bryan how helpless I felt. By this time it was clear that this attack was planned. The murder of thousands of innocent people was planned. The terror the people must have felt. The horror for their families must have felt as they were notified. I was disgusted, frightened, angry, and confused. We were watching coverage of the news and we were both so incredibly upset by all of it. Ironically, the phone rang and one of my close friend's husbands had called to tell me that my friend was is labor. I remember feeling the need to pray for her. One of my prayers was that God spare her child of having the birthday of September 11. No child should have to suffer that.
It was in that prayer that I remembered my Grandpa's sentiments when Grace was born. I realized --- I finally understood what Pearl Harbor was to him. I knew that it wouldn't matter how many September 11ths passed, the pain would never go away. The world had changed from what I once knew. It couldn't be the same again. I finally got it.
I never had the courage to share any of that with my Grandpa. He was "larger than life" and I always felt like my small thoughts had no place in his important world. However, I never looked at him the same way after that. I had always respected him, revered him. But now I had the experience, as awful as it was, to understand what Pearl Harbor was to him. It was what September 11th would be for me.
I may have never spoke to him of this story...but there isn't a class that has passed through Sidney High School since 2001 who hasn't heard it. All of my students understand what it means when the calendar shows December 7 and September 11. Even though he has been gone for years, he continues to teach generations about what it means to be American.
I get it Grandpa. I finally get it.
I miss you so much.
