Remembering

When the September 11th attacks started, Greg was on an airplane, on his way from Madison, Wisconsin to Denver, Colorado for a trade show.

I was sitting at my desk when a co-worker walked by and said that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. She said they thought it was a small private plane, and beyond a thought of, oh, that's terrible, none of us thought much more about it.

Then someone else came to my department and said another plane had hit the other tower and we all knew.

I went into the conference room, where we have a TV, and tried to get a local channel without the benefit of an antenna or cable TV. We could see snowy footage of the towers burning on every channel.

I went to the internet and looked up Greg's flight information. I checked it repeatedly and it said, "in flight" each time, until finally it said he had landed in Denver.

My mom called, crying, and I told her with confidence that the website said he was on the ground in Denver and that I'd call her as soon as I heard from him.

About an endless hour later, Greg called. He said he was OK and in Lincoln, Nebraska. I said, no, you're not, you're in Denver! He said he was in the airport in Lincoln and that he'd been watching the footage on TVs in an airport bar.

He said the flight seemed normal until the pilot came on the intercom and said they were putting down immediately. The pilot said there wasn't a problem with the plane, but wouldn't say anything else until they were on the ground. Then he told them.

Greg ended up spending three days in Lincoln, taken care of by airline personnel and the Red Cross. He couldn't find a way home. Amtrak doesn't run near Lincoln, all of the rental cars were gone, and there were no flights, obviously.

On the morning of September 14, his birthday, I opened the morning paper and read a story about the airline passengers who were stranded in Madison. They were renting U-Haul trucks and driving them home. Of course, U-Haul does one-way rentals all the time!

I called Greg's hotel room and left a message. I didn't hear back from him until about 9:30, when he called to tell me he was just over the border into Iowa. He drove a 24-foot rental truck from Lincoln to our home, completely empty except for him and his one suitcase in the front.

But he was home. So many others weren't and wouldn't ever be again. We will never forget.