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For my generation and older, it's been said that you never forget where you were when you heard the news that President Kennedy had been shot. I was sitting on a school bus in the parking lot of my grammar school, waiting for our driver to pull out and take us home at the end of our school day. But before we drove anywhere, a teacher boarded the bus and told us the terrible news. At least that's the way I remember it. But I was a kid, and my childhood memories are always part fact and part fill-in-the-blank. So who knows whether that's exactly how it went?
But ten years ago, on September 11, I was a grown-up, and I do remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when the news of an airplane crashing into the World Trade Center hit the airwaves. Buddy and I were taking showers, shaving, getting dressed and putting on make-up, getting ready to perform a matinee show for a group of senior citizens who were coming by bus to see us at Tillman's Village Inn in Albion, NY.
At first it seemed that the first plane may have been a horrible accident. Then it became clear: No accident. Terrorist attack. The scenes on TV, so sickeningly familiar now, were unbelievable at the time. In a daze, we just kept getting ready to do our show, because we knew that the busload of people, from a town three hours away, were already on their way to see us when it all happened. We didn't even know if they knew. They were just on a fun day trip, going to see some entertainment, have lunch, and enjoy the rural scenery.
So we went to the Village Inn, and waited for the bus to arrive. We were all dressed up, our PA equipment was turned on and ready to go. The staff, the owners, the chef, and us, all wandering around in a fog, wondering if we should go ahead with the meal and the show. Would the people even want to, once they found out? Was it the right thing to do? Put on a show and smile and sing and entertain, while this horror was unfolding in our country?
The bus pulled into the parking lot and Buddy and I went out to meet them. This time, I was the one boarding the bus with the terrible news. But it turned out they already knew. Someone had called the driver on his cell phone, and he had relayed the news to them.
So Buddy said, "Well, what do you want to do? We'll do whatever you decide. Do you want to cancel the show?"
One gentleman in the back said, "We've been through this before. We went through World War II and one thing we know is, we're not gonna let them ruin our way of life. On with the show!"
The whole busload loudly agreed, and we all went inside and carried on with the day we had planned.
We gave them a show. We sang, we entertained, and we even managed to laugh a little. But instead of ending the show with our usual "Happy Trails to You", we sang "Proud to Be An American", and "God Bless America". During that last song, as everyone stood, clasped hands with each other and raised them high above their heads, singing their hearts out, I realized that this was the tower they couldn't bring down; a shining tower of American strength, faith, and determination.
"We will never forget."
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