One Woman’s World

I told you I was coming back to regular posting, but I just can’t seem to motivate myself to write at ALL these days. But here are three hilarious things that Bean has done in the past while.

1. She raised her arms for a hug and said, “I need some MOMMY.” (Don’t we all feel like that once in awhile?)

2. She stops what she is doing immediately if she ever hears me say “ouch” and says, “You hurt? What’s the matter? Come’ere. It’s arrright.”

3. She woke up last night with a poopy diaper and when I went in to see what was wrong, she wailed, “I poooopy! I neeeeeeed to snuggle.” So we gave in and took her to our bed for a little while because I am WEEEAAAK. WEEEEEEEAK, I tell you.

It’s not when my true love gallops up on a white steed with a sword in hand and vanquishes the evil snidely-whiplash-esque villain who had come to ravish me.

It’s not even when he cruises up in his sports car with roses on the day I was sad and lonely.

It’s when I tell him I’m not feeling very well, and I get in bed early to catch some extra zzzzzzzz, and the Bean decides to wake her 2-year-old self up five times in the night, and he jumps out of bed EVERY SINGLE TIME to rush to calm her so I can keep resting. Then he makes sure I’m covered up right when he comes back to bed.

That’s the romance, ladies. That’s the derring-do. That’s it in a nutshell.

mmmmmmm

(Yes, I know it’s Monday and this is not One Woman’s Wisdom. My response to that: It’s Monday and there’s a post up. How long has it been since THAT has happened here. September and I don’t get along very well. We have a love/hate relationship, and my blogless three weeks is the result. That said: I’m back.)

I was in my first week of teaching High School. I still wondered what was going on around me half the time. I had never dealt with any kind of crisis in the classroom.

That morning, our faculty meeting was twice interrupted by cell phone calls to the principal. As we wrapped up the meeting, and were sent to our classrooms for the day, we were informed that two planes had hit the world trade center.

That moment seems now to loom so large in my memory, but I know at the time that I just thought it was a plane crash.

But I still feel a shiver all over my body when I remember the student who burst through the door of my classroom and said, “Madame, why is the TV off? Turn it ON.”

I did, and watched the first tower fall.

A candle sputtering out in a gust of wind. All of those lives snuffed out. And it played over and over again until we watched in horror as the second candle guttered and extinguished.

And they were all gone.

People I didn’t know but who I suddenly loved. People I cried for as I pledged allegiance to the flag that morning. People whose families and friends would never be the same.

And they were gone.

According to his New York Times profile, Eric Thomas Steen was 32 years old that working as a bond trader for Euro Brokers in Tower 2. He was working on a novel and a screenplay, and had begun a film-production company. These were things that he kept secret before finishing them. He loved to read.
He was athletic, running, skiing, kayaking, snowboarding and surfing. He was survived by his mother, Blanche.

But most of what struck me about Eric Steen is what I don’t know about him. What I and all his other fellow-citizens will never know about him. Today on this blog I honor Eric Steen with the small bit of information I have been able to gather.

I sorrow for his family and friends. I want them to know that even though I have never met them, my heart is with them today.

And he was someone’s baby.
He was someone’s friend.
He was someone’s confidante.
He was someone’s whole world.
He was someone’s future father.

And he is gone.

And we will never be the same.

If you would like to view other tributes for the 2996 victims of September 11, 2001, visit this website.