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When I turned on the television the morning of Sept. 11, I was captured for the next few hours.
MSNBC’s rerun of the NBC coverage of Sept. 11, 2001, brought back all kinds of memories as I listened and watched those awful events again unfold before my eyes.
Memories not just of that tragedy, but of others lived through in Boom(er) Times.
Grand Junction Mayor Gregg Palmer put my feelings into words later that Thursday. Opening a brief but impressive remembrance ceremony in downtown Grand Junction, Gregg noted that tragedies like the attacks seven years ago last week bring back memories of other events our generation has lived through ... that we could remember exactly where we were at the time they occurred.
Gregg mentioned the assassination of President John Kennedy and the first time man walked on the moon. I’d add the shootings of Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King, the attempt to kill Ronald Reagan and certainly watching the twin towers of the World Trade Center fall.
I was between classes in November of 1963, rounding the corner between the library and the offices at Grand Junction High School when a tearful classmate, Bea Schmidt, told me John F. Kennedy had been shot. Disbelief turned to shock and then
sorrow over the next days and weeks watching John John’s youthful salute to his
father and that big horse, boots reversed in the stirrups, pulling Kennedy’s casket down Pennsylvania Avenue.
To this day, the song “Abraham, Martin and John” brings me pause, often finding me wondering what might have been. It’s only fitting we’ve been reminded of both our societal faults and of our progress every time we hear or see a replay of King’s “I Have a Dream” speech. One of my favorite singer/songwriters, the late John Stewart, campaigned for Bobby Kennedy. His homage, “Clack Clack/Oldest Living Son Medley,” appears on his CD “The Last Campaign” and was written while riding the train that returned Bobby Kennedy’s body from California back home.
My own remembrance of John Hinckley’s attempt to kill Ronald Reagan is actually humorous even though there’s nothing really funny about an attempted assassination. But even Reagan found time to joke about at the hospital.
Bonnie and I were somewhere in southwest Colorado headed west when we heard the news on the radio. Just a few weeks earlier, our home in Evergreen had been burglarized.
As miles passed and we heard more details, we first learned that Reagan had been shot with a .22-caliber handgun, then that the assailant was from Evergreen. One of the items taken in the burglary was my .22-caliber revolver. We actually wondered for a time if we’d be pulled over once the registration was traced, but later heard that, though Hinckley’s parents still lived near the Hiwan Country Club, he hadn’t lived there himself for a while.
I was out on I-70 headed east, somewhere between Parachute and Rulison, when I called my sister-in-law in Connecticut the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, to discuss something to do with her Colorado ranch.
“Have you been watching TV?” she asked.
I hadn’t but didn’t miss much as she graphically described the second plane flying into the twin towers and the collapse of the first tower as I drove down the highway. Her kids were accounted for but two family friends who months earlier had attended her husband’s memorial service in Crested Butte worked at Kantor Fitzgerald and perished as the towers collapsed.
Another niece was attending school in New York City. There were a few anxious hours before my brother in California could reach her and then relay word that she was safe.
I was involved with many others in 2002 and 2003 in local memorial ceremonies and will never forget the sight of more than 3,000 flags placed on Suplizio Field in remembrance of those who died. One of those years I wrote the names of my brother’s two friends on a couple of those flags.
One year we had representatives of all local law enforcement and emergency service agencies line their vehicles around the outfield at the baseball park. It was a dark Thursday evening, Sept. 11, 2008, when officers from those same agencies turned on the emergency lights on their vehicles just after Mayor Palmer asked for a moment of silence.
As I choked up a bit, I imagine I felt just like member of “The Greatest Generation” must feel on Dec. 7 or on Memorial Day.
Gregg was right. I think each generation lives through times of tragedies or triumphs that stick in their memories so vividly they’ll always remember where they were or how they felt when those events unfolded.
Those of us who grew up in Boom(er) Times are no different.
Memories of your own Boom(er) Times tragedies and triumphs are welcome at jimspehar@bresnan.net.
MSNBC’s rerun of the NBC coverage of Sept. 11, 2001, brought back all kinds of memories as I listened and watched those awful events again unfold before my eyes.
Memories not just of that tragedy, but of others lived through in Boom(er) Times.
Grand Junction Mayor Gregg Palmer put my feelings into words later that Thursday. Opening a brief but impressive remembrance ceremony in downtown Grand Junction, Gregg noted that tragedies like the attacks seven years ago last week bring back memories of other events our generation has lived through ... that we could remember exactly where we were at the time they occurred.
Gregg mentioned the assassination of President John Kennedy and the first time man walked on the moon. I’d add the shootings of Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King, the attempt to kill Ronald Reagan and certainly watching the twin towers of the World Trade Center fall.
I was between classes in November of 1963, rounding the corner between the library and the offices at Grand Junction High School when a tearful classmate, Bea Schmidt, told me John F. Kennedy had been shot. Disbelief turned to shock and then
sorrow over the next days and weeks watching John John’s youthful salute to his
father and that big horse, boots reversed in the stirrups, pulling Kennedy’s casket down Pennsylvania Avenue.
To this day, the song “Abraham, Martin and John” brings me pause, often finding me wondering what might have been. It’s only fitting we’ve been reminded of both our societal faults and of our progress every time we hear or see a replay of King’s “I Have a Dream” speech. One of my favorite singer/songwriters, the late John Stewart, campaigned for Bobby Kennedy. His homage, “Clack Clack/Oldest Living Son Medley,” appears on his CD “The Last Campaign” and was written while riding the train that returned Bobby Kennedy’s body from California back home.
My own remembrance of John Hinckley’s attempt to kill Ronald Reagan is actually humorous even though there’s nothing really funny about an attempted assassination. But even Reagan found time to joke about at the hospital.
Bonnie and I were somewhere in southwest Colorado headed west when we heard the news on the radio. Just a few weeks earlier, our home in Evergreen had been burglarized.
As miles passed and we heard more details, we first learned that Reagan had been shot with a .22-caliber handgun, then that the assailant was from Evergreen. One of the items taken in the burglary was my .22-caliber revolver. We actually wondered for a time if we’d be pulled over once the registration was traced, but later heard that, though Hinckley’s parents still lived near the Hiwan Country Club, he hadn’t lived there himself for a while.
I was out on I-70 headed east, somewhere between Parachute and Rulison, when I called my sister-in-law in Connecticut the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, to discuss something to do with her Colorado ranch.
“Have you been watching TV?” she asked.
I hadn’t but didn’t miss much as she graphically described the second plane flying into the twin towers and the collapse of the first tower as I drove down the highway. Her kids were accounted for but two family friends who months earlier had attended her husband’s memorial service in Crested Butte worked at Kantor Fitzgerald and perished as the towers collapsed.
Another niece was attending school in New York City. There were a few anxious hours before my brother in California could reach her and then relay word that she was safe.
I was involved with many others in 2002 and 2003 in local memorial ceremonies and will never forget the sight of more than 3,000 flags placed on Suplizio Field in remembrance of those who died. One of those years I wrote the names of my brother’s two friends on a couple of those flags.
One year we had representatives of all local law enforcement and emergency service agencies line their vehicles around the outfield at the baseball park. It was a dark Thursday evening, Sept. 11, 2008, when officers from those same agencies turned on the emergency lights on their vehicles just after Mayor Palmer asked for a moment of silence.
As I choked up a bit, I imagine I felt just like member of “The Greatest Generation” must feel on Dec. 7 or on Memorial Day.
Gregg was right. I think each generation lives through times of tragedies or triumphs that stick in their memories so vividly they’ll always remember where they were or how they felt when those events unfolded.
Those of us who grew up in Boom(er) Times are no different.
Memories of your own Boom(er) Times tragedies and triumphs are welcome at jimspehar@bresnan.net.
