September 11, 2011

Remembering George Merkouris

Originally posted 9/11/2006.

I remember where I was the day of September 11, 2001. I was at work. I was complaining about an elderly man I had to screen for glaucoma and that he kept blinking. Dr. Rollins came into the room and said that a plane had crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. We laughed at the idiot pilot who made such a grave mistake. This was before we realized America was being attacked by terrorists. We turned on the television in the office only to see the second plane hitting the second tower. It was then that we knew something was very, very wrong. I can’t even imagine not coming home from work that day.

I can’t image that George Merkouris or his family ever thought the same thing. It brings tears to my eyes even to this very day that so many innocent people lost their lives to terrorism in our country.

How do you calculate the worth of one’s life? There’s no amount of money in the world that would compensate for the pain and suffering and grief that George’s family, friends and co-workers went through. Even more haunting is the knowledge that there’s no amount of money in the world that can bring George back. He was taken from this earth too soon. Because of the acts of terrorists.

All across the world today, millions upon millions of people are mourning the loss that happened five years ago today. There are memorials in New York City, Washington, D.C and Pennsylvania. Moments of silence. Mourners wearing red, white and blue. Bearing our flags. Showing their grief and patriotism on this five year anniversary.

It will never be enough. Yes, the memorials and prayer vigils and services are an amazing chain of people coming together to remember those who died. The civilians, the firefighters, the police officers. The people who risked their lives to help wherever they could. America is grateful. But we are also sad, angry and we still don’t understand how this could happen. We can’t even begin to contemplate this tragedy. Even five years later.

Remember George. George had family who loved him. He had a job and a home and friends. He went to work today, five years ago, and he never made it home. God had a special place in Heaven for George.

I found this poem in an e-mail. I don’t know the author, it was not listed. But I felt the poem was fitting and I encourage you all to pray for the souls we lost this day in 2001.

TWO THOUSAND ONE, NINE ELEVEN (2001-911)
Two thousand one, nine eleven
Three thousand plus arrive in heaven
As they pass through the gate,
Thousands more appear in wait
A bearded man with stovepipe hat
Steps forward saying, “Lets sit, lets chat”
They settle down in seats of clouds
A man named Martin shouts out proud “I have a dream!”
and once he did The Newcomer said, “Your dream still lives.”
Groups of soldiers in blue and gray
Others in khaki, and green then say
“We’re from Bull Run, Yorktown, the Maine”
The Newcomer said, “You died not in vain.”
From a man on sticks one could hear
“The only thing we have to fear…”
The Newcomer said,
“We know the rest, trust us sir, we’ve passed that test.”
“Courage doesn’t hide in caves
You can’t bury freedom, in a grave,”
The Newcomers had heard this voice before
A distinct Yankees twang from Hyannis Port shores
A silence fell within the mist
Somehow the Newcomer knew that this
Meant time had come for her to say
What was in the hearts of the five thousand plus that day
“Back on Earth, we wrote reports,
Watched our children play in sports
Worked our gardens, sang our songs
Went to church and clipped coupons
We smiled, we laughed, we cried, we fought
Unlike you, great we’re not”
The tall man in the stovepipe hat
Stood and said, “Don’t talk like that!
Look at your country, look and see
You died for freedom, just like me”
Then, before them all appeared a scene
Of rubble streets and twisted beams
Death, destruction, smoke and dust
And people working just ’cause they must
Hauling ash, lifting stones,
Knee deep in hell, but not alone
“Look! Blackman, Whiteman, Brownian, Yellow man
Side by side helping their fellow man!”
So said Martin, as he watched the scene
“Even from nightmares, can be born a dream.”
Down below three firemen raised
The colors high into ashen haze
The soldiers above had seen it before
On Iowa Jim back in ’54
The man on sticks studied everything closely
Then shared his perceptions on what he saw mostly
“I see pain, I see tears, I see sorrow — but I don’t see fear.”
“You left behind husbands and wives
Daughters and sons and so many lives are
suffering now because of this wrong
But look very closely. You’re not really gone.
All of those people, even those who’ve never met you
All of their lives, they’ll never forget you
Don’t you see what has happened?
Don’t you see what you’ve done?
You’ve brought them together, together as one.
With that the man in the stovepipe hat said
“Take my hand,” and from there he led three thousand plus heroes, Newcomers to heaven
On this day, two thousand one, nine eleven
–Author Unknown

There are nearly 714 links about George Merkouris and this is not nearly enough in my eyes. Here are a just a few of those links. I encourage you to take the time and read them and remember George and all the people who died on September 11, 2001. All the people who worked in the WTC and those who were passengers on the 4 flights.

George’s family and friends post wonderful things about him.

CNN’s September 11 Memorial lists George’s name.

When you visit this page, a flower is added that shows someone remembers George and his life that was taken too soon because of terrorists.

The following website will allow you to submit a message in memory of George Merkouris. It also has a scroll of every person who lost his life on that inconceivably tragic day.

You must read this. And this. This one, too. About the Quilt. Then click here. And then here.

This one makes me cry. Every time I read it. Every Time. The message states, “DOES ANYONE HAVE INFO ON MY COUSIN-GEORGE MERKOURIS-1WTC??????? “

April 9, 2008

Another Mercy Post

I’ve been slacking on the blog. Again. I am a failure as a blogger. I went from posting daily to posting only when I’m feeling guilty about not posting.

In my defense, I’m still trying to catch up on laundry and housework. After four days away, I feel like life is in disarray. It kind of is.

But the good news:  I’m blogging from the couch (my favorite place to blog), Dawson is WIDE AWAKE (and making me suffer through another episode of Diego) and we just upgraded our high speed internet (and wireless) to SUPER MEGA faster-than-the-speed-of-light service. It’s the shit. Just 48 hours ago, I could only blog on this laptop if I had the patience of a saint. It would get stuck and the pages wouldn’t load properly. Today? It is bliss. Really groovy, just sayin’.

Oh…look at that, Dawson finally fell asleep. I swear that child is torturing me. His sleep schedule is still screwed up. When I was in New York, he spent most of his time at my parents’ house. The place where there are no rules for really adorable 3-year-olds. The kid went to bed whenever he wished.

When I finally got home and tried to put him to bed, it was like a reenactment of the Civil War. Canon balls exploded. Or rather, a very demanding, screeching child exclaimed, “But I DON’T WANNA GO TO BED! Poppa NO make DAWSON GO TO BED!!” Grandparents. They mean well, but now I’ve got to undo the spoiled rotten damage that has been done.

I just realized I’m still blogging and Diego is still on the damn T.V. I’m too lazy to find the remote to shut it off.

I don’t know if I’ve blogged this before — I searched my archives but found nothing — but I’m a fan of James Patterson novels. Most especially the Women’s Murder Club books. A million years ago my friend Dish lent me the first two in the series and I absolutely loved them. This is how I got hooked on the show on ABC, too.

So, anyway, I bought books 3, 4 & 5 just before I left for my trip. I finished reading 3rd Degree and 4th of July in two days. I couldn’t put the darn books down. I’m sad because I’ll most likely finish the 5th Horsemen in a day and I don’t have the sixth and seventh in the series yet. My husband is impressed. Not about the fast reading, but about all the “time” I have on my hands. I really don’t have time. I just don’t sleep. There’s a difference.

Okay. Enough 11:30 rambling. You all, you normal people, are probably in bed right now. Sleeping soundly. Sweet dreams!

April 7, 2008

Upon Arriving Home

I returned home from NYC on Saturday night, and I was too exhausted to post. I spent Sunday catching up with the family, unpacking, doing laundry and cursing TSA.

It seems their x-ray machine thought my souvenir snow globe was a “dangerous” or “forbidden” item and they decided they needed to cut the lock on my checked luggage to inspect these things. I totally get that since 9/11 security is tighter and measures are much more strict than the past. I understand why we have to take our shoes off to make sure we’re not hiding razor blades, knives or sharp pointed scissors. It’s inconvenient, yes, but I get it.

What I’m not to happy about is the fact that after inspecting my luggage, these assholes didn’t zip my suitcase all the way and several items were sticking out. Any Joe Schmoe could have gone through my shit, and taken or damaged things.

The lovely note from TSA saying they are not responsible for lost, stolen or damaged items really chapped my ass. Basically, they can do whatever they want in the name of airport security. I’m angry but I don’t really know at whom. The terrorists? Our fucked up government? Myself, for having the nerve to buy souvenirs and store them in my checked luggage that any asshole could rummage through? I had a wonderful trip, so I’m trying not to let this one incident ruin it.

(Trip recap posted here.)

From NYC to Jersey: A Photo Tour

Thursday morning I woke to the sounds of police sirens. For a split second I thought I was at home, sleeping peacefully in my own bed (the occasional police car races down the busy road behind my house, so I wasn’t startled by the noise). When I opened my eyes and saw the brick building outside my hotel room window, I quickly remembered I wasn’t in Wisconsin and I never sleep peacefully.

The alarm clock in my room was set for 7:15 a.m., but again my internal alarm went off twenty minutes ahead of my electronic wake-up call. I was groggy and then I realized that technically my body thought it was 5:55 a.m. What was I doing awake so early? I slept well for the most part. The bed wasn’t very comfortable, but I was so tired from the night before, I could have slept in the bathtub and never noticed.

I started the morning lazily. I was hungry, but I didn’t know where I wanted to eat for breakfast. I had a list of “must-see” attractions I wanted to get to, so I prioritized my itinerary, and eating an omelet didn’t make the cut.

After getting ready, I ventured toward the subway station. If I could use it successfully the night before, I would have no trouble the second time around. I had my map and studied it carefully before I left.

Then I took the wrong train. I wanted to go to Union Square and I knew I had to take the 2 train to Times Square, then get on the N train to 14th street. Somehow, I got on the W, freaked out, got off at Herald Square and waited for the N Express. I’m so glad I memorized the directions and carried that subway map with me.

After exiting the subway and visiting Union Square for a moment, I walked seven blocks south on University Place to Washington Square Park. Greenwich Village was bustling with people, mostly college students from NYU, which I passed along the way.

I fell in love with the townhouses on Washington Square North and Washington Mews. Again my mind wandered to eras past. I tried to imagine what life was like in New York circa the 1800s.

Beautiful Townhouses.

After daydreaming, I grabbed a Village Voice and a copy of The Onion and parked my behind on a bench. It was peaceful, well…except for the jackhammer loudly pounding nearby. Unfortunately construction was taking place in front of the Washington Arch. I still took some great photos, but the chain link fence as a back drop irritated me.

I loved watching the parents, nannies, au pairs and children playing in the gated playground. As they passed me they spoke in many tongues. French, German, Spanish, Armenian, Chinese. Never before had I heard so many foreign languages spoken in less than ten minutes.

Next I ventured up 5th Avenue. My goal was to see my beloved Flatiron. From the moment I saw that building in a photo so many years ago, I fell in love with it. I can’t explain why. The triangle shape amuses me I suppose. When I finally got there, I didn’t even know I was there until I saw Madison Square Park and realized I walked under the scaffolding adjacent to the Flatiron. It looks like crews were doing some work on the exterior.

The building is amazing. I was so drawn to the lines and the windows and the beautiful architecture. I took way too many photos from different angles. I was just so darn excited.

The Flatiron Building, my favorite architectural wonder.

Next, I stopped at a little souvenir shop and bought a beautiful snow globe of a New York City scene. When I wound it up it played “New York, New York” and the little taxi, fire truck, police car and horse drawn carriage inside moved around the Twin Towers, Flatiron building, Statue of Liberty, and Chrysler building inside. I also bought some post cards and three framed, black and white prints the store owner was selling. One was a photo of the Flatiron, another of Lower Manhattan and the last one of the Bow Bridge in Central Park, overlooking the Dakota. They are such beautiful photos.

I left the store and continued walking down 5th Ave, which is where I met Kenny Mayne. Then I went to the Empire State Building. It was a beautiful, sunny day and the line wasn’t long at all. Once at the 86th floor, I was amazed at the gorgeous view. I could see for 15 miles. The crazy pigeons made me a little nervous. I feared bird poop on my head. They are not shy, those birds. They get right up to you, hoping for food I suppose.

Empire State Building, from 5th Avenue.

Crazy Pigeon.

View of Lower Manhattan from Empire State Building Observation Deck.

After my observation from the sky, I walked up 5th to Times Square, passing the New York Public Library (with it’s Lion statues at guard) and Bryant Park along the way. I was so tired from walking and my stomach was rumbling. I remembered there was a T.G.I. Friday’s on the Square and I was so excited because they had wait staff. I could sit down, enjoy a drink and eat something — which is exactly what I did.

After lunch I took a taxi back to the hotel and got ready for my Circle Line boat cruise at 4 p.m. I dressed as warmly as I could and took a cap to the 82nd Pier at 42nd Street. The cruise was wonderful. Again, I took a million photos of everything I could.

Our tour guide was wonderful. He gave us several history lessons about New York in the old days and showed us so many great attractions from the boat. I loved the Brooklyn Bridge.

So strong, yet graceful in appearance.

I saw the World Trade Center. It was so lonesome without the towers. I started to cry just a little.

Something Definitely Missing

The Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island and the Brooklyn, Manhattan and Queensboro bridges were breathtaking.

Statue of Liberty

By the end of the cruise I was so tired and chilled to the bone. I walked to W. 52nd street and then gave in to a taxi. It was a wonderful day. I think I lost 10 pounds too, because my pants were falling off my butt after that night.

Once at the hotel, I ordered dinner from the Columbus Gourmet because they were just around the corner and were happy to deliver to me. I fell asleep at ten o’clock, that’s how tired my body was — but it was definitely the best day in the city.

Biggest Burger and Best Cheese Cake Ever.

Friday, after checking out of the hotel, I took the subway to Penn Station (getting my luggage on the train was a challenge, but I made it. I bought a ticket from the NJ Transit desk and headed to Jersey to see Liz from This Full House and meet her family.

It was only an hour long train ride, but I was so happy to get off at my stop and see a friendly face. Some of the people on the train were mighty strange, and I hated when the train stopped on a bridge with water beneath the tracks. It scared me senseless.

Liz and her four sweet, adorable children took me to the boardwalk. I’ve never in my life been to the ocean, so this event was absolutely amazing. The sound. The smell. The breeze. The sand. It was so beautiful and serene, even with the waves crashing to the shore. I truly felt at peace.

Liz and Me. And lots of waves.

After the boardwalk, Liz showed me all around New Jersey. The houses are big and bold and very gorgeous. Especially Bon Jovi’s house on the river.

Seriously. My entire town could live in that house.

After my wonderful Jersey tour, I got to meet Liz’s husband Garth (not his real name) who greeted me as if he’d known me for years.

We ordered Chinese, and Liz and Garth thought I’d been smoking weed when I asked if the restaurant had crab rangoon on it’s menu. Good Grover, the looks on their faces. You’d have thought I’d asked for ketchup on steak. Apparently New Jersey peeps have never heard of crab rangoon. And then to try to explain it! We were all laughing our asses off.

After that, the kids crashed from all the excitement I think. Garth (not his real name) hit the hay early because the poor man had to work on Saturday, so Liz and I made screw drivers and chatted until midnight. It was the best time. And her adorable dog Rudy slept at my feet, just like my Murphy.

Saturday morning, Liz was kind enough to take me to the airport. We drove through Staten Island, Brooklyn and Queens — and got lost a few times — but thank goodness Garth (not his real name) was able to talk us in the right direction from the cell phone.

I was sad to leave but I had the most wonderful time. I was ready to go home, but when I got to Wisconsin I couldn’t wait to plan my next trip. You know, after I kissed the ground at the airport (turbulence all the way home, not good for my nerves).

“Dear Lord, please let this plane land safely…”