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I had gone to bed late on the night of September 10th, after being online talking to friends who even that early were trying to convince me to break up with the guy I was dating. I agreed with them. I needed to break up with him. He was dragging me down... Even more so that he was requiring I drive to Grants Pass Oregon to pick him up after yet ANOTHER failed attempt at a job.
I mean, come on. YOU'RE TWENTY SEVEN YEARS OLD! YOU HAVE A T
I was young and naive back on September 10th. I was only dating him because I was convinced no one else would want me. Something my mom, dad, even my church pastor agreed with. He never did anything to make me feel any different either. I realize now that the only reason he continued to drag me through the mud the entire 3 years I was with him because I WAS WITH HIM and he had found someone to use. He used me for my car, my time, my money, even though I had barely any. And I went along with it because I couldnt do any better, or at least because I was afraid to try.
I checked my email one last time and found the strangest thing. An email from an unknown address with a bunch of stuff written in another language. The only words I recognized were "airplane" and "New York". A chill ran down my spine, but I didnt know from where. My computer was on a low table next to my bed so I had been sitting on the floor for too long.... yeah, that was it.
Sleep came slowly that night. The next morning I had to be up at 5:30am (it was midnight already) so I could get to work at 7am. I was only going to work until noon, then I was off on the long, boring drive to Grants Pass to pick up the loser I was dating because he quit the job he was offered after a week. He said he couldnt handle being away from me. I wasnt inclined to believe him, and I wished this roadtrip would be to recover something better than the other half of my relationship. I would have settled on picking up my own pieces rather than his.
I finally settled into sleep.The window to the right of me was open just a crack, the chill night air was a comfort. My blankets warm and soft, I did not dream.
On the morning of September 11th, 2001 I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing. I forgot to put it back on the stand, so it rang RIGHT in my ear. I answered. It was my mom-
"Get grandma. I need to talk to grandma"
"mom, grandma is asleep"
"Andrea, you dont know that. Go get grandma"
"ok, hold on a minute. I need to put pants on, then I'll wake her up"
"NO ONE CARES IF YOU'RE WEARING PANTS AN
The sound of my moms voice reached a level I'd not heard before. In all the years I've been my mothers daughter, she had never used that tone. Other angry tones, sure. but not this one. I did not put on pants.
Walking briskly from my bedroom to my grandma's, which was at the other end of the house- My mom continuing to tell me to hurry and give grandma the phone. She was in the bathroom and told me not to come any farther down the hallway because the door was open. Ha.. My family and our peeing with the bathroom door open. I always wondered where I got that bad habit from...
She asked me what my mom wanted.
I asked my mom what she wanted.
"I want to talk to grandma. Its important."
"Grandma, she wants to talk to you, its important"
My grandma said the funniest thing in reply.. at least it seems funny now, a little ironic, actually.
"If its that important, It'll be on the news later! I'm going back to sleep"
I relayed the message to my mom.
"Well, tell grandma an airplane just hit a big building in new york. Turn on the TV!"
Chills, again. "Airplane", "New York"... I turned on the TV. I hung up the phone.
They replayed the film over and over that morning. It was hard to pry myself away to get ready for work, but I went. All of the radio stations had begun playing a national emergency station. There was no music that morning. If someone had played Don McLean's American Pie, it would have been very fitting.
I drove into work. It was before store hours, so the front doors were locked. I knocked and knocked and knocked, and finally, Becky the receiving clerk came to let me in. She looked concerned. If there was anything I knew about Becky, it was that she was NEVER concerned.. also, she hated me. She threw open the door and embraced me. She had a friend in that first tower. Her husband was traveling on the East Coast. Unable to reach anyone, including her husband, she held it in. She was already at work when it happened, and she managed to maintain the "tough woman" facade until she saw me, standing at the door.
I hugged her back, and between muffled sobs, she talked about her friend. She said her husband could have been on the plane that hit, but she didnt know. She couldnt be sure. Her sobbing grew more wild and she nearly screamed at God for what was happening. I had no idea what to do, so I just stroked her soft blonde hair and told her it would be alright. It would be alright... A woman that had hated me for the previous 3 years... basically since she met me, was reduced to crying in my arms, screaming and wailing because she didnt know what to do. It would be alright.
She finally stood up, wiped her tears, inhaled sharply and without a word, turned and walked away. Able to enter the building, I locked the door behind me and started towards the breakroom.
Everyone was crammed into the breakroom that morning. Huddled around the tiny tv, perched on the few chairs available, or leaning over the backs of others just to see. I shuffled past and hung up my jacket, put my purse in my locker and put my apron on. I would wear my "Hope" nametag that day. Others shared the sentiment and my manager changed her name tag to read "Faith". The store would be opening soon, so I clocked in and made my way to the front. I didnt make it very far before hearing a collective scream, and Anthony the stock boy shouting "Oh my God". The second plane hit the second building while they were watching. They saw it live on the TV. The store was supposed to be opening, so I kept my composure and walked to the front. I did not think today would be busy. I wanted to be in the back staring at the tv along with everyone else. I straightened bags and dusted the flower arrangements. I windexed the counter tops and the windows.
No customers.
I straightened and stuffed, sanitized and organized. Every few minutes Kari in the back would shout up aisle 5 the latest news flash. A customer wandered in a few minutes later. A veteran who was also a store regular. Always buying wood shapes and wood burning supplies. I talked to him a lot over the years I'd worked at that store. He shared with me stories of his days in the navy. My Grandpa was in the navy. I never met my grandpa. When this man told me stories I would pretend it was my grandpa sharing his stories with me.
Today he shared no stories. He bought no woodworking supplies. He bought a single american flag pin and said "You know, these thing are gonna be flying off the shelves now." paid, saluted and left. He was my only customer.
Finally another girl came in and I didnt have to be a cashier anymore. I was supposed to be back in my classroom, where I could hide in the supply closet and pretend I was doing something productive or planning a birthday party or something.
I went to take my break, and was glued to the TV. Then I went back to my classroom and started to think of what red white and blue project I could work on.
I made foam flag pins and then started stringing red white and blue beads onto stretchy string. I used letter beads and put words like "hope" and "peace" and "compassion" on the string with the beads. I kept doing it.. it was like therapy.
At some time around 11:30, my boss came in and told me that I could go ahead and go home. There were no customers. Half an hour early was fine for me. I had wished I didnt have to drive so far away to pick up someone I didnt want to see. But I was being selfish. I wanted to be surrounded by family, and he was somewhere he didnt know anyone at all. I got in my car and started driving southward.
It was late when I finally found my destination. Rob nearly dove into my car when I pulled up, greeting me with "what took you so long?" rather than "thanks for driving 5 hours to pick up my loser ass", which is what he should have said. I didnt respond. I listened to the radio, and I needed to find a gas station.
I was shocked when I finally was able to locate a gas station. $6 for gas? It had only been $1.30 before. I had to get gas though, so I filled up. Got back in the car, finished driving home. Well, to Robs house.
He kept talking but I wasnt listening. After a long long 5 hour drive back, it was almost midnight and I was tired, cranky, hungry and feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. I dropped him off at his dads house, and he asked me to come in. I'll admit, I was weak. I wanted an escape. I wanted the world to go away. I went into his house. His dad was freaking out, and very drunk. We scuttled by, and went to Robs room.
I could not believe he had the audacity to even HINT that he wanted to have sex with me. I left. I didnt even bother using the front door, I just left out the side door. I couldnt handle this.
I got in my car and drove and drove and drove. I ended up at my friend Matt's house, and sat in the car crying in his driveway. He must have recognized me, because he came out and got in my car and threw an arm around me. My life was falling apart, the world was falling apart. I was trying not to be selfish, but I couldnt stop thinking about how much I HATED Rob. Two Airplanes ripped a hole in New York city, and I was complaining because I didnt have the balls to break up with my boyfriend.
Matt and I pulled an all nighter at Dennys that night. Talking about life, the world, fears, worries, how I was a wuss, and how he wished I'd just leave Rob because I could do better. Random Dennys patrons joined us throughout the evening. Drinking bottomless coffee swill and occasionally ordering seasoned fries or a slice of pie, talking about the world, world affairs, the president...
Sometime around 5am we left, I drove Matt back to his house and I went back to mine. It was September 12th, and I was afraid to go to sleep for fear of what I would wake up to.
These are the graves of my great aunt Helena and her husband Phillip.
Clara was Phillips mother.
Less than a mile away, up on top of a beautiful hill on the way to Felida, Helena lived in a bright pink 2 story house that Phillip had build on his family's land. His mother and father lived next door in an old white farm house.
Back in their day, everyone in Ridgefield and Felida (neighbouring towns) was pretty much a farmer of some sort. My great grandfather had a huge field of strawberries, and a cherry orchard. Along with the fruit they grew for sale, they also had three fields with vegetables growing, and a grape vine that circled the property. His brothers were all farmers as well, and his sisters all pretty much married farmers.
Phillip's family raised cattle for dairy and beef. They also had goats and a few sheep, but mostly it was the cows.
When they came of age, like most young men of age during WWI, Phillip and his brothers joined the Army. He served a small tour and then returned home to the farm. Being a worldly man now, he would travel to the city and that was where he met the beautiful and talented Helena, Who was just beginning her career as a Ballerina. Of course, she was looking to remain in the city, but love conquers everything, and she married Phillip and remained a country girl.
A long story short, Phillip's mother Clara came down with tuberculosis about a year before she died. They sent her to a sanitorium, which apparently was where you sent people with tuberculosis. Because of this, Phillip and Helena took charge of the farm.
Unfortunately, in late 1930, Helena took ill. Her symptoms so similar to Tuberculosis, and with the diagnostic tests being not so exact, she was sent to a sanitorium. The same one as her husbands mother. There she caught tuberculosis and died in 1931. Same year as Clara.
About a year after her death, it was revealed to Phillip the truth about Helena's death. The doctor that diagnosed her wasn't sure, but figured better safe than sorry, about sending her to the sanitorium. The results to the test that he did actually showed that she had become sick from bad milk. That made much more sense anyways, because the rest of the family had developed a slight rash and intestinal issues, same as Helena, at the same time, only hers were much more severe.
Phillip never remarried, and died in the house that he build for his beautiful ballerina. Many of her possessions made their way back to her family (The Bryants) and my older sister and one of my mom's sisters both have some of her costume jewelry and many of her photographs from when she was a ballerina.
George, Jim and Mary.
No one knows when George died (or when he was born, for that matter) But Jim died in 1912, and Mary in 1936. The three are buried between two giant cedar trees, and until the late 1990's, the trees had completely covered the grave stone. When you approach it now, you'll notice the stone is artificially aged, since the original grave marker was damaged during the removal of the bottom half of the tree branches and the accumulation of years of overgrowth. For a few years, the broken gravestone remained, but it had been replaced since the last time I visited.
Many of the gravestones are shaped like tubes. Bryant brown is one of the many with this style of gravestone, apparently signifying that they served in the civil war.
There are quite a lot of servicemen in this cemetery. The flag in the distance is on the grave of one particular high ranking military man.
Another sad thing about this cemetery, is that about half of the graves are those of children that died at birth or under the age of 3. Of those graves, most were buried here alone, meaning that no one else in their family is buried there.
Buried alone, none of their family is buried at this cemetery.
Over the years, many of the grave markers have been damaged at Sara Union Cemetery. Most of the damage is due to nature taking its course, flooding and general neglect. A few sites have been vandalized, but generally people do not visit this cemetery.
Well meaning mourners leaving flowers that managed to sprout full blooming bushes that have in some cases caused gravestones to lift and buckle from deep roots and continued growth, funeral wreath holders, rusted and slumped over man of the graves remain undisturbed because no family remains in the area, and the church that maintains the cemetery generally leaves well enough alone.
A few of the oldest residents of this cemetery had their graves marked with wooden markers. Now there are quite a few people buried there that no one knows the location of, and even more that no one knows anything but a first or last name, or even just the year of their death.
This cemetery is about 10 feet from a main road, nestled a bit too closely to a power hub and a seeding farm. Still, its very peaceful, and not a bit spooky. Still, I always feel like crying when I see "baby" or "died at birth" written on a grave stone.
-A.
I'm planning on doing 5 this year, down from the 13 days of valentines desserts I did last year. I just don't think we need that many desserts around our house, so..
Ideas?
Last year I made
Double chocolate raspberry cupcakes
Chocolate strawberry shortcake
Marshmallow sundae
Triple chocolate butterscotch brownie
Vegan chocolate hazelnut mousse tart
Coconut lime cupcakes
Panna cotta
French vanilla torte with strawberry cream cheese icing
Creamsicle creme brulee
Almond cream cheese caramel phyllo... stuff (It tasted good and looked cool, thats what mattered)
Grapefruit squares (like lemon squares)
Everything but the kitchen sink cookies
Strawberry and orange buttercreams
So this year I'd like to make some pretty spectacular things, thusly, I need inspiration.
Helpz?
-A.
P.S. feel free to just list all sorts of desserts that sound tasty. I'm up for a challenge, but I also like simple stuff. I'm hoping to make a "master list" of all sorts of dessert ideas for NBwB so I can go to it when I need an idea for something to make.
