Remembering 9/11 and my Daddy, Part I

Twenty-five years ago, our nation - and my family - lived through the worst time in our lives. Even all these years later, it sometimes feels like it couldn’t possibly have happened - that it must have been a dream, or looking back now, a nightmare. Several years later, I wrote a blog post about our experience.  You can find it here. Now, I’d like to share a little more of the background, or as Paul Harvey used to say, “the rest of the story.” Today I’m posting Part I which takes us through Daddy’s funeral on Monday; look for Part II on Friday.

On this date 25 years ago (Friday, Sept. 7), I landed at the Gainesville Regional Airport after leaving Washington, D.C., where I’d spent most of the summer lobbying on behalf of Regeneration Technologies, an Alachua, Fla.-based company that along with the rest of the human tissue industry was being investigated by Congress and the FDA. 

When I pulled up the voice mails on my cell phone that morning, there was a message from Brother Glenn Armstrong telling me my Daddy had died that morning in Hartford, Ky. After leaving me that voice mail, he next called Larry who desperately tried to get to the airport before I retrieved the message. Alas, he arrived at the airport after I had left and I drove home knowing my Daddy was gone. I called Larry, crying, from my car saying “My Daddy died.”

Three days later after gathering family and friends in Kentucky, we held my Daddy’s funeral at Beaver Dam Baptist Church where hundreds of friends and family gathered to honor him. He was beloved in Ohio County, which was evidenced when the day before more than 700 people visited the funeral home, signing the book. We were there for more than nine hours. He had taught hundreds of people to waterski over the years and had been a godsend to young people, talking with them while they played basketball and walked the track at Beaver Dam Baptist’s CAC. 

Larry grew up in the Bronx and never really understood Kentucky, but he tried and grew to absolutely adore my parents. He took me to New York City in October 1981 shortly after we married in August. I had never been to a big city - let alone NYC - but he wanted me to visit “his city.” Even though Larry’s Mom had moved him and his siblings to Florida when he was in middle school, he remained a New Yorker. I fell in love with the city immediately. You have to understand that NYC in 1981 was about the time that the city reached rock bottom, and yet, I loved everything about it. The dirt and trash, the bums (what the homeless were called in those days), the topless clubs, and the electronic stores on every block (which were probably selling mostly stolen goods).

After that first visit, we went back year after year and then introduced the girls to New York’s magic when they were five- and eight-years-old. By the time they were in their early teens, they knew how to maneuver the NYC subways; explain the differences between the UWS and UES, Jersey, The Bronx, and Queens; and responsibly hail a cab.

In June of 2001, we did our usual NYC trip shortly after school was out and the Gators’ sports season had finished. That year, the trip was part of Daddypalloza week which happened when Father’s Day and Larry’s birthday occurred during the same week. On Father’s Day the four of us had brunch at Windows on the World, the restaurant at the top of the North Tower of the World Trade Center. That Sunday morning’s weather wasn’t what we’d hoped for - it was a dreary, cloudy day where the clouds were hovering below us as we sat at our window table looking out on the city. Our daughter, Jenni, asked Larry how the airplanes knew how to fly without hitting the towers when it was cloudy and foggy, and he explained how radar and flight patterns worked. Looking back, it was a bit eerie that we had that conversation. And, of course, we took in a Yankees game, always a staple on our NYC trips. After our vacation, we went back to Gainesville for the summer to prepare for Dana’s junior year at Gainesville High where she was starting as one of the drum majors for the band, and Jenni’s seventh grade year at Howard Bishop Middle School.

As we started September, the fall was progressing nicely. The girls settled into school and football season started on Saturday, Sept. 1 with the Gators beating Marshall 49-14 in the opening game. I was still having to spend most weeks in Washington, D.C., working for RTI, but we were making progress on the company’s issues. So, as usual, I headed to D.C. on Sunday after the Marshall game. It was a positive week and that Thursday afternoon before flying home on Friday, we had a break and I went and sat in Lafayette Park across from the White House. It was a beautiful, cool September day and I stayed there for an hour, just soaking in the moment. It would be the last time I was in D.C. for months. 

After learning that Daddy had died that Friday morning, the girls and I flew to Nashville on Saturday, but Larry stayed in Gainesville to work the Louisiana-Monroe game. He flew to Nashville on Sunday, and arrived shortly before we headed to the funeral home for the visitation. After Daddy’s funeral on Monday, Larry and the girls headed to Nashville to fly back to Gainesville at 6 a.m. on Tuesday morning. 9/11. I had a car that I had rented in Nashville and my brother and I were going to stay for a few days to help Mommy.

Part II coming Friday, Sept. 11.