On Flight 93...

By now, unless you eschew most forms of media, you are probably aware that the movie Flight 93 opens today. Chances are that you have already formed an opinion about the movie, or more directly, about the release of a movie that rehashes the events…and more importantly the emotions of 9/11. There have been a line up of folks that have come out in support and have come out…if not against, then at least questioning a studio’s motives.

I will admit, before this week I did have some idea that this movie was releasing soon, but had not really thought too much about my feelings towards it. That is not surprising. I’m an emotional procrastinator. I don’t think about how I will or should feel about something until the moment before the “event”. I think it is safe to say that I’m not against emotions…I can, from time to time, be quite emotional. A well-cooked slab of some sort of meat makes me quite joyful and even a bit weepy. Not putting the puck into a wide-open net can make me quite vitriolic. Overall though, I like my Delayed Emotional Response policy even when it sometimes bites me in the glutemous regions.

I will not be going to see Flight 93. That was really a forgone conclusion since I haven’t been to a theater in nigh on a year now. Even though I see an unhealthy amount of movies in a year, they are almost solely on the small screen. The arrival of an infant daughter precludes most forms of going out, and theater attendance has evaporated. However, what I mean is, even if given the chance to, I don’t think I would see it at this time. I’m not sure I’ll even rent it when it comes out…

…and it’s not because I think the movie is too soon, or that I have a problem with a movie studio making a movie about 9/11 that will ultimately profit the company. I’ve done some research. I know that the director, Paul Greengrass, received the unanimous consent of the families of Flight 93 victims to make the movie. That makes this their collaborative effort…it makes it their story. I also know that 10% of the profit will go to the memorial fund for the victims. In addition, I like that none of the actors seem to have done this for a big payday. In fact, most of the folks apparently aren’t really actors…or at least not A list folks. I would have a huge problem if Brad Pitt or another very popular actor had done the film and made their usual salary. Not to disparage Mr. Pitt, I’m just using him as an example. I’d still like to see the studio do more with the profit than just 10%, but if the families thought that was fair, I’m not going to be overly picky.

By all accounts, Flight 93 appears to be a major success too. Critics or giving it huge praise. I’m not sure how you really “criticize” this movie, especially as an American. I suppose if the actors had really been poor…like a made for TV movie, that one might pile on criticism. However, I do tend to believe what I’m hearing that Flight 93 is very well made and does honor to those involved…especially because it avoids the political. Frankly, I find that astounding in and of itself. No, that was not a jab at Hollywood. That is a statement that the director stuck to facts, let the audience decide (as they probably already have) who the fault lies with, and simply tells a story of brave folks in a really, really @&$%# day.

I will not see this movie because it is too soon for me. Remember that Delayed Emotional Response policy I spoke of earlier? Well, that comes into play for me in a big way when talking about 9/11. As many of you know, had the plane that struck the Pentagon been about 25 to 50 feet to the left of where it actually impacted, I would definitely not be here. I’ve meant to write down my experiences on 9/11 for a long time now. I think most people in this country have had that same thought, or have actually done it. I haven’t, and I think I haven’t because of my delayed emotional response. Over the past five years, it has increasingly dawned on me how lucky I was/am.

I don’t know why God makes the decisions He makes. You may not believe He exists, so I’ll state it another way. I don’t know why I got so damn lucky when hundreds of other folks were not. I do know that a series of fortuitous events/facts saved my two months married wife from receiving really bad news. Rapping my head around that has been a five-year experience so far, and I’m still not quite there. As my marriage has progressed and I’ve become a father, I think the realization of the things I could have missed set in. And, I think ultimately why I never wrote down my thoughts or feelings about that day is because they were so different than what most of the country was feeling…and I felt a little guilty about that.

My experience on 9/11 was one of horrified exuberance. I know that may sound insane, or even completely wrong to you, so allow me to explain. I’ll start at the beginning. I had arrived in office at about the time I normally do that day. My usual routine was to see if there was anything “hot” that had come in the after I had left the day before, or that had come in early that morning. Usually there wasn’t and this day was no different. Once I’d established that a light workday appeared to be on the horizon, I settled into getting a quality and, of course, healthy breakfast….Mt Dew and Pop Tarts. I am truly a physical specimen magnificent to behold. While I ate this essence of good dietry, I started to surf the web.

My first sites are typically movie news. I don’t know why, this was even pre-Netflix. I guess I just like to get the light stuff out of the way early. Besides, for some reason, CNN was just not loading for me that morning. WashingtonPost.com was also slow for some reason. I can’t even remember what movie I was interested in at the time, but once I had received the latest low down, I tried CNN and the WP again. No dice on CNN, but the Post came up…sort of. All I got was a headline that read “Plane Hits World Trade Center”. I commented to my boss, a Lt Col who sits next to me about it. We wondered, how could a Cessna not see these two giant buildings in New York. Maybe it was some sort of deranged protest. It had happened at the White House once. We had no idea, and the thought that it was a jetliner never crossed our minds.

Still, we went into the Colonel’s office to check out the footage since it was obvious this news was what was slowing down all the news websites. When we turned on the TV, I think it was already set to NBC or something. I just remember seeing the plane hit the World Trade Center, and the announcer saying that this was a visual of the second plane hitting the other building. We had literally just turned on the TV set, so our eyes hadn’t even seen that there was already a burning hole in the first building.

I think you know what happened then. It was a lot like what happened in your personal experience. The room was silent on the realization that this was no accident…and certainly no Cessna. Questions bubbled in my brain as it did yours. Were there people in that plane? How many people where in those buildings…or on those floors? Can those buildings possible stay standing? But there was also a significant difference that I don’t think a lot of people had. War had been declared before our eyes, and I was standing in probably the one building besides the White House and Capitol where that realization would impact the most. And what I sensed from those around me, especially those in uniform was not panic, or anger…it wasn’t even fear. It was determination. Not wild, emotion driven determination either. It was the realization that something was happening that could directly affect some of the personnel in the room first hand, and they were determined to do their duty.

Before I go further, I don’t want to give the impression that the office I support as a contractor is a war fighting office. We are responsible for two programs: Arms Control and Counterproliferation (think Counter-WMD). Most of the officers I work with are former satellite or nuclear missile officers, although we did have a few bomber pilots/co-pilots/navigator types. Basically, folks who would have first hand knowledge of nuclear weapons in the Air Force. Since most of the treaties affecting the Air Force deal with the reduction of nuclear missiles, that makes sense. So you can see that a declaration of war, such as 9/11, would not directly impact our office in a policy way. It did end up impacting Counterproliferation though.

We watched footage of the attack for a few minutes. It then dawned on me that I might want to call my parents to see if they were aware of what was going on. My wife was in the middle of teaching class, so I could not reach her…and I figured that word had spread by that point. I called my Mom and ended up waking her up, so she was totally unaware. I waited as she turned on the TV. She was stunned, as was the normal response that day. I don’t remember much else about our conversation, but I do remember her telling me to get out of the Pentagon. I also remember my response: “Mom, they aren’t going to attack the Pentagon”. I believed that too. It was stunning that “they” could get a hold of two airliners…but I was sure it was impossible that they would have hijacked more.

Flight 77 hit the Pentagon roughly five to ten minutes later. I had just left the Col’s office again after watching a little bit of footage. I was looking back at him saying something when the building shook. I couldn’t see his window, but I could see the reflection on the wall and hit had gone completely orange for a couple of seconds. I turned to look over at my desk, which did have a window. The blinds were drawn, but I could tell the fire was flickering outside my window and dust or smoke started to come through the cracks at the bottom.

At the time my office was divided into two actual offices. I sat in the “main office” that held the Colonel, his deputy, the MSgt that basically ran the office logistically, and my direct boss a Lt Col who was in charge of the budget. I supported him directly. The rest of the office that handled policy was directly across the hall from us. It sat about 20 or 30 Air Force officers and contractors.

The MSgt had been across the hall watching the footage there. Seconds after the building was hit, he busted into the main office door and told everyone to get out. That was a foregone conclusion, but still, he was our security manager. I remember my first three steps being all jelly legs as the realization that something…a bomb, a helicopter (the helicopter pad was on that side of the Pentagon at the time) or another plane had just hit us. One thing was for sure, it was no accident and now we were pretty much all thinking that anything could happen that day.

At the end of the hall we took a left to go towards the outer ring, the E Ring. We were on the D Ring on the top floor (floor 5) and coming down the 5th corridor I believe. Smoke and dust had really started do come in. I vaguely recollect and Marine officer directing people towards the staircase down to the ground floor. At that point, I still didn’t realize that our side of the building had been hit, or even how bad it was. But when we got down to the ground floor, a number of Pentagon Police officers were directing us not to go out the set of doors that were right there, but to go into the center of the building and work our way to the Metro, South or North Parking exits. Along with two other guys from my office, we actually listened to that instruction and went towards the center of the building. The rest of my office basically said “screw that noise, those doors look perfectly fine to me” and exited the building…and saw the impact site, the detritus of what little of the plane remained and made a bee line for Ft. Myer a couple of miles away. The somewhat amusing ending to their story is that they ended up going to the Officer’s Club and succeeding in getting the bar open. I could relate, a drink wouldn’t have been a bad thing at that moment.

Separated, I made my way to the Metro exit. There was a glut of folks there trying to get out. Later, I would really recognize the total difference between the attack in NY and the attack on the Pentagon. There was almost no panic at the Pentagon. It was insane how orderly we exited the building through one set of double doors. Behind me folks were talking about the work they needed to get done once they were allowed back in. That is not a sad commentary on how driven folks are in DC…it is an amazing statement about the resilience exhibited. They new, as well as I did, that suddenly much of what they were doing would matter…not in the abstract, but in the present. It was the realization that not only had war been declared, but that this building, the one that had been hit, was not out of commission and would play prominently in a future response.

The rest of the day I basically made my way, over three hours, to a pay phone where I called a friend. He had been in contact with both my wife and my family and quickly relayed the message back to them that I was alright. This was a real blonde moment for me. No offense to blondes of course. I don’t know if it was shock or what, but I was definitely aware of what was going on around me, and oddly, there was no place that I’d rather be. It never occurred to me that my family was going insane with worry, or that my wife was probably slightly interested in my well being. I remember distinctly being told to walk away further and further from the building because another plane, Flight 93 it turned out, was unaccounted for and heading our way. I remember F-16s flying overhead, including one that “buzzed” the Pentagon. I’m not sure why he did, but I like to think that was his way of telling us “I’m on it.” I remember some kid walking onto a now dead stopped I-395 that goes right by the Pentagon and waving a huge American flag.

Finally, I remember getting to that same friends house with my wife and watching what had happened over the entire day. I never saw the towers fall down. The panic and total chaos, although not unseen around the Pentagon, was nothing like that. In a lot of ways, I think 9/11 was more terrible for the folks that could only sit there and watch it unfold, and especially for those who had loved ones unaccounted for.

I could not have been more proud of my country than that day, in that area. A lot went so entirely wrong not just to get us in that situation, but in the handling of our response. Our response to the crisis that day was so disjointed, mostly because we had never dealt with it. I believe the movie Flight 93 shows some of that…not as indictment, but just as a fact. But here at the Pentagon, if it was chaos, it was inspiring, determined and effective chaos. It shows exactly why we have one of the best, if not the best military in the world. It showed that while I may disagree with some of the leadership, both civilian and military, there is no place I’d rather work.

But years away from that day, I don't really want to revisit it...not yet. Flight 93 shows exactly how strong we can actually be as a people. It shows folks that really did save the country from further death and destruction by their own sacrifice. I truly hope that the movie can do it justice as I hear that it has. While I can't bring myself to see it, I do believe in the idea of people remembering that day, and that there was some really beautiful things that happened, even in the midst of terror and chaos.

On Green Thumbs and Index Fingers...

One of the nice things about living in Northern Virginia…and to be sure, sometimes it seems like there is not exactly a glut of “nice things”…is that we do tend to get all of the four seasons. That is not to say that the weather here doesn’t behave strangely, or sometimes even just flat out badly. Frankly, I’m not sure two seasons have ever been the same in consecutive years. We might have a frozen tundra of a Winter one year, followed by 70 degree days in the middle of January the next. Spring and Autumn are particularly unpredictable. Sometimes they behave “normally” but other times these seasons can be indistinguishable from the Summer or Winter.

However, Spring has definitely arrived here. So far, it appears we are having a normal, if only slightly dry season. Well, dry until this past weekend that is. The trees are in bloom and are driving my sinuses crazy. There is a nice lime green sheen covering my car every morning and I’m enjoying the fits of sneezing it induces…sometimes to the 9th power.

Spring means manual labor though. As you might imagine, manual labor…and indeed any labor…is not conducive to my Netflix habit, nor my virtual World of Warcraft existence. Plus, this labor tends to be under the sun. The sun is a particular nemesis of mine who has burned me on many an occasion. I’m not Gollum, but the sun isn’t exactly my precious either. Let’s just say that I appreciate its key role in supporting life on earth…but I’m not going to send it any thank you notes to that affect.

Surprisingly though, I learned that I actually like the manual labor involved with yard work. Despite being heavily annoyed by grass pollen, one of my chores growing up was mowing the lawn. I decided then and there that mowing lawns was not something I wanted to do for a living…but that it could actually be quite pleasant at times. Still, mowing and the raking of leaves were about the extent of my yard working abilities. I think I may have watered a plant or two at the behest of my mother, but I was no green thumb by any stretch.

After college, my living arrangements were all in apartments. There was no mowing or raking…or a even lawn for that matter. The extend of my yard work was going out onto the balcony and sweeping off any leaves that may have collected there…and let’s be honest…I didn’t even do that. My skin was going an even pastier shade of…uh…pasty. That was okay though, I looked good in ultra-white.

When my wife and I bought our townhouse, it wasn’t exactly like my yard work chores suddenly increased dramatically. Even though we have an end unit, that just means we have about eight square feet of lawn rather than four. It takes me about 15 minutes to mow the lawn…20 if I edge. Raking is another matter. It still doesn’t take long, but the patch of woods we have next to our house assures that any raking is for naught. The trees produce more…they always produce more.

Last year though was a crowning achievement for my wife and I. After we put in a deck in the back yard, our lawn was even less…expansive. So we decided we would try and put in two flower gardens. This was quite and undertaking. Both of us were complete novices to the art of planting bushes and flowers. But we had high hopes and a totally unrealistic budget to fuel our desires…and so we set to work. The first step was to turn the mud pits that had developed into garden beds. Top soil and I became well acquainted friends. I believe a third world country out there is missing all of its soil, because I walked bag after bag from my car to the backyard. It was probably only like 15 bags…but when you are a weakling, that feels like you’ve really accomplished something. We even purchased stones to make the walls around the garden. Finally, we went to the local “overpriced and only for suckers who don’t realize you can get the same thing for cheaper at Home Depot” nursery and spent an arm and a leg on plants and flowers…

…that were all annuals. If you don’t know, annuals are not plants that come back. The word annual in fact means that should you decide to go this course with your garden, you’ll spend this ungodly amount every year. Apparently what we should have looked for were perennials. Needless to say, we are starting from square one this year, and we won’t make that mistake again. But we had one cool looking garden last year.

This year is going to be as busy as last. Thanks to our phone and cable companies putting in new lines, we have large patches of our lawn that are in need of repair. This weekend I got some topsoil and filled in the uneven ground that had been created when the new fiber optic line was put into my house. Then I re-seeded much of the lawn. I don’t have one of those nifty seed and fertilizer carts, so I did it all by hand…assuring the most sporadic coverage possible. We’ll see if this works. My lawn looks like a disaster right now, but at least I’m committed do putting some effort into it…and it’s kind of fun. Just don’t tell my wife I said that.

Oh, and to bring this story to a dramatic close, the bushes we have in the front of the house have really grown unwieldy the past few weeks. So I decided it was time to trim them back. Apparently I also thought that ten fingers were too much to keep track of. So I did my best to take off one of them with the trimmer. Okay, so in reality it was really only about three stitches worth of repair, but I am now typing this message to you with my left index finger enveloped in gauze.

And I’m going to need that index finger for when Kaleigh grows up and starts smarting off. How am I supposed to point to her room and her impending confinement to it without my pointer finger? It’s not like you can use your pinky…

On Resolutions...

I’ve given this birthday thing a whole week and a half to seep in and fester. I’ve started to get used to the idea that my life has made an irrevocable change for the old. I think I gave you the impression that this birthday was especially hard for me. I don’t think I meant to be that dramatic, but let’s just say I did hang out with my homies and poor out a forty for my lost youth…yo.

That’s actually totally untrue. I spent that last fleeting moments of my youth on a subway platform for 3 hours as illegal immigrant after illegal immigrant packed the trains on their way home from the rally on the Mall that day. My birthday dinner came at 8:30. I was in bed by 9:30. Good grief, I am old.

Last year, which was supposedly the pivotal year when I turned 30, I did not have this crisis of age. I was working under the principle that 30 did not constitute me actually be in my 30’s. You know, the same idea behind the year 2000 not actually being the new millennium….that 2001 was really the beginning. Well, I guess my personal new millennium has officially started. I am now no longer a youth. I have made my first foray into Middle Age. Nothing good can come of this. It’s not like The Middle Ages was some sort of high point for humanity. Except for jousting…that was just cool.

I guess it would be a bit premature to have a midlife crisis in my first year of middle age. I barely even qualify at this point. Still, I feel like I should resolve to do something. That is, I should come up with some resolutions for my next year. I was a little busy this year around New Years. Unalterable life changes were about to pop out of my wife’s abdomen, so my customary intentional refusal to make New Year’s resolutions went untended. I merely forgot to not think about them this year. But now, with oldness creeping in…I guess it is time to actually come up with a plan…or maybe just some goals…

…It’s time I made a contract with myself to actually get something done this year. It’s time to come up with some parameters. So without further ado, I give you my Year 31 Resolutions, Goals and Parameters.

RESOLVED:

Beeley IV resolves to make certain and epic life changes on this his 31st year on Earth, location USA, further location Virginia, Northern. The writer of this blog promises, under threat of public derision, familial nagging and spousal guilt to complete these resolutions by April 10, 2007.

1) To take any and all medication that will reduce cholesterol from astronomically high numbers down to something more…attuned with acceptable medical parameters.
2) To keep in touch with Grandfather.
3) To continue to ignore Aunts.
4) To achieve status as U.S. Government employee.
5) To continue “higher education” through the Defense Acquisition University.
6) To rejoin the under 200lbs club. In other words, to lose three pounds.
7) To write first children’s book. To shoehorn friend into illustrating it.
8) To not drink a soft drink. Chik-fil-A sweet iced tea is totally on limits, however.
9) To be more sociable, less of a homebody and, generally, to see the outside world from time to time.
10) To go to the gym atleast once a week.

11) To update the blog more than once a week.

Yea verily, woe unto the Beeley who does not do these things within the next year. A plague desendeth upon his abode and upon his household. So sayeth the blog, so leteth it be done.

On Hiatus...

I know, I know, for one week it seemed like I had gone back to my old, dependable ways. I will not have you guilt me though. I have a job to do. It does not include constantly regailing you with my literary genius...or mental illness...you decide which one is an accurate description. The fact of the matter is, someone here must have let the word out to someone else in a higher position that I actually know how to do budgetary things...and they've actually made me work. I guess this is what they mean by gainfully employed.

I am pretty anti-Masters Degrees. Someday I'll write a post about my theories on higher education. I assure you that they are ridiculous. My wife has even bribed me with tales of big screen TV-ery if I get a Masters. I am not easily duped. It's not that I don't believe she'd actually purchase said TV nirvana. It is that I have done a pain analysis, and the pain of getting a Masters is not worth the orgasmic qualities of movies in large format... However, I have recently entered upon some higher education of my own, in a format I find attractive. Mainly, it's web based, I don't have to take a GRE and it's pretty much pass fail. I speak of the Defense Acquisition University. I'm learning to acquire things in a defensive manner. So far it's been all about methodology, acquisition structure...blah, blah. I'm hoping for a future class on pole arms though. All that to say, I'm my "free" work time has really started to dry up.

I'd love to write more of my missives from home, but you see, I'm a father...and a geek. Because I'm feeling generous, I'll also let you decide whether my parental duties or my slavish devotion to a digital troll in a World of Warcraft environment keeps me busy in my "free" time.

And finally, I realize that I turned 31 this week. It's taken some time to adjust. I actually have another post about that coming. I want to leave you with a bit of forewarning since it will not be a pretty message. I didn't want to catch you unawares and send you into shock. It details my angst. It identifies personal changes that need to be made...in the form of resolutions. I believe it actually gives you my current weight too.

Hopefully tomorrow we will go there...

On Travel, Relatives and Rear Enders...

Once again I’ve been derelict in my duties to produce worthlessness in a blog format. I hope you forgive me, but you need to understand that my trip to see my family two weekends ago was that exhausting. His Vomitousness, my motion sick Fox Hound, produced wonders only known in one’s stomach lining twice on the way down, and once on the way back. The one on the way back was epic. Think dog food. Think floor air vent. Think not so beautiful union.

K-Mad did really well though. She slept most of the way. So did her mother. I was not accorded that same luxury.

I would also like to state that last week I was hit by a car…for no good reason. I was in my wife’s Honda Civic and thought for sure that life as I knew it…and I knew it to be alive….had just ended. I was stopping at a stoplight, which some are wont to do. The person behind me did not agree with my decision to observe normal, legal vehicular operating rules. She made her presence known…that is to say, we communicated with a jarring attack on my rear. I guess I decided that the car in front of me also needed to be in on this conversation and so I lightly caressed her posterior too. We all stopped. The woman in front of me and I exchanged numbers. The woman who started it all decided she had adequately determined that no visible damage was done and that no one was injured and that driving away was an appropriate response. I spent some time with one of Fairfax County's finest police officers. The end.

As you’ve come to know, I’m not all that adventurous. The last week or so was more than I really cared to handle. To be sure, my actual time in SC was pretty restful. Having a newborn is great. You can pretty much pull the pin, throw the child into the middle of the room and watch the ensuing lovefest from afar. And for the most part, I think K-Mad enjoyed her time in the Land of Milk and Honey. Her parents were a little more stressed by being removed from the workable routine we had established in Virginia. It’s always hard to figure out a travel routine, and K-Mad’s sleep patterns were murderous once we did return home. I hear that is normal. Which means that there will be no more travel with her until she turns 18. And that will only be to deposit her at college…

There was also a pig. A barbequed pig. It resided it all its glory…minus the head…on the kitchen counter. This is the portion of the trip that always produces much joy in me…at the expense of my wife. She is simply not used to folks milling about, talking Citadel and sticking their hands into what was once the place where the pig’s organs functioned, and pulling out huge chunks of barbequed perfection. She is not opposed to meat. I think that she actually has a good idea about how meat actually comes to land on your plate. I just don’t think she likes picking meat from something that resembles that which it once was. In this case, she said it reminded her of Wilbur from Charlotte’s Web. I don’t recall ever reading that book, but if I do in the future, I’m sure it will only succeed in making me hungry.

I guess the only other notable event of that weekend was being told to extend the family line by having a son…and that I don’t keep in touch enough for my Granddaddy’s liking. I can see that second point. I’m a pretty poor communicator is general, and especially with family. After all he’s done for me, it would only be right to let him know, from time to time, that he’s actually in my thoughts. But the first point. Well, I couldn’t give two craps about extending the family name. Despite the horror of multiple girls going through puberty around the same time, if I have all daughters from here on out, I can deal with that. Especially if I get to have a man room. This would be a room that I retreat to where estrogen is not invited. It's a room of various forms of visual media. It is a room that would be soley mine.

Oh, and my cousin Elizabeth has a eyebrow ring. I swore I’d give it a “shout out” as the homies say. I believe she is going through a period of trying to find herself. Why else does one get pierced? That makes sense. She’s about that age. Let me give you a hint, dear cousin. Leave SC for a few years. It will help with the process….