Our store was opening at 9am for a sale on September 11, 2001. I had just gotten by register open and had straightened my department. Ready for the day. My friend Thom, who worked in Rugs next to my department, came in and said that he had heard on the radio that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York. He and I talked about it for a minute, and both of us had decided it must have been a small plane. Maybe the pilot had a heart attack. He said it might be on TV.
I walked across our floor to the break room and cut on the TV. I saw the big hole in the side of the building and thought that could not have been a small plane, judging from the damage and the smoke. As I was watching CNN, I saw the second plane crash into the second tower. I saw it live. I was shocked and horrified. I knew immediately that we were under attack.
I ran back to my department and told Thom what I had seen. He went to get a radio. I ran to the store manager's office and told her what had happened. She cut on her radio and told me to get back to the TV. Every time something new happened, I went back to report to our manager. I saw the towers collapse. I could not believe my eyes. I saw President Bush get on Air Force One. He wanted to get back to Washington, but I am glad he didn't. No one knew how bad it was. No one knew what was going to be attacked next. There was a story on TV about people seeing smoke rising from an area near the Pentagon. News came soon that a plane had hit the Pentagon. People in DC were running for their lives. I was running back to the office and then back to the break room. Our manager told me that I was not to tell others, but someone on the radio said that the Columbia area had been locked down. Was Fort Jackson next? After all, it was the largest Army training facility in the world. What about Shaw Air Force Base? It was only 30 miles away. We were scared.
Then, we heard about another plane crashing in Pennsylvania that was heading for Washington. How many more? All flights were grounded, and those in the air had to land wherever they could. Our store had opened for a sale, but we didn't have any customers. No one dared to go outside. We were in a mall. Would that be attacked, too?
Our store manager was on the phone with other stores in Columbia and around our region. We decided that it would be in everyone's best interest to close early, because we had no business, and employees needed to be home with their families. So, the decision was made to close at 4pm. I was in the process of closing some registers, when a woman came up to me and said she wanted to buy something. I told her we were closing, and she had to come back tomorrow. She asked why we were closing, and I asked her had she not heard the news about the attacks? She said, "What attacks?". I told her to go home and cut on the TV. We were closing. I thought that was scary that she knew nothing about it. She was glad she got a parking place close to the store. Wonder why?
So we closed, and everyone went home. I was glued to the TV in my apartment in utter shock. The next day, I was off and went to the post office to mail off something. My eyes caught the eyes of my favorite postal clerk there. We knew what each was thinking about the events of the day before, and we both started crying. People were lining up to give blood. There was a wave of patriotism sweeping over our country.
As a post script to that time, I had a friend who lived in Queens. He was making breakfast in his kitchen that awful day and watched the planes hit both towers across the bay from his house. Little did he know that his brother, who worked for the NYPD, was going into one of those towers. When that tower collapsed, his brother was killed. After that, my friend sunk into deep depression. He had seen his brother die, even though he didn't know it at the time. A few years later, my friend killed himself over the grief. I spoke to a New York firefighter years later, and I told him about my friend and his brother. He said that there were similar stories of relatives killing themselves over their loved ones perishing that day. So sad.
Saturday, July 20, 2019
Thursday, July 11, 2019
Antioch
As mentioned previously, my two best friends during this time were Chris and Del. Both had moved to the Nashville area to pursue their music career. They comprised The Cobbwebs, which I wrote some lyrics for.
By 1999, Del had moved back to Columbia because of some issues he had with another roommate. Chris had started dating a girl named Janita. He proposed to her, and their weeding was scheduled for May 15th. Del and I drove up there for the wedding. We got there in time for the rehearsal, even though we weren't actually in the wedding itself. I had not met Janita until then, but found her to be funny and delightful. A perfect match for Chris. They had us staying in a motel along with the family in Antioch, TN where Chris and Janita lived.
The wedding was nice and intimate. Afterwards, the reception was held by a lake outside. Chris had made a CD of songs that were very appropriate to the two of them. I got a copy of it for my birthday about a month later. That night, Del and I went to Denny's for supper and were scheduled to leave the next day to drive back to Columbia. Our plan was to go by Rock City on the way home. I had never seen Rock City, even though I had grown up seeing signs on barns around NC and TN to "See Rock City".
As we turned into the parking lot, Del said he wasn't feeling very well and asked if it would be okay not to go to Rock City. I was disappointed, but we were in his car, so I bowed to his wishes. I was driving. He said that we had to stop in the parking lot, as he had to throw up. He did. After that time, I continued to drive down toward Atlanta, stopping every twenty minutes for him to throw up. He had gotten food poisoning the night before apparently. What would have been around a two hour drive took four with him throwing up every 20 minutes. It was like clockwork.
When we finally got to Atlanta, I had to get something to eat. I pulled into a McDonald's and asked Del if he wanted to eat anything or have anything to drink. He said no and wanted to stay in the car. I ate in the restaurant, and Del threw up more in the parking lot. I felt bad for those customers who might have seen him, because they might think he was sick due to the food there. Sorry. McDonald's.
We finally got back to Columbia with Del still throwing up. He actually felt better the next day. Maybe, he just needed to get back home. I just know I was glad to get into my car, which I had left at Del's house. No more throwing up.
By 1999, Del had moved back to Columbia because of some issues he had with another roommate. Chris had started dating a girl named Janita. He proposed to her, and their weeding was scheduled for May 15th. Del and I drove up there for the wedding. We got there in time for the rehearsal, even though we weren't actually in the wedding itself. I had not met Janita until then, but found her to be funny and delightful. A perfect match for Chris. They had us staying in a motel along with the family in Antioch, TN where Chris and Janita lived.
The wedding was nice and intimate. Afterwards, the reception was held by a lake outside. Chris had made a CD of songs that were very appropriate to the two of them. I got a copy of it for my birthday about a month later. That night, Del and I went to Denny's for supper and were scheduled to leave the next day to drive back to Columbia. Our plan was to go by Rock City on the way home. I had never seen Rock City, even though I had grown up seeing signs on barns around NC and TN to "See Rock City".
As we turned into the parking lot, Del said he wasn't feeling very well and asked if it would be okay not to go to Rock City. I was disappointed, but we were in his car, so I bowed to his wishes. I was driving. He said that we had to stop in the parking lot, as he had to throw up. He did. After that time, I continued to drive down toward Atlanta, stopping every twenty minutes for him to throw up. He had gotten food poisoning the night before apparently. What would have been around a two hour drive took four with him throwing up every 20 minutes. It was like clockwork.
When we finally got to Atlanta, I had to get something to eat. I pulled into a McDonald's and asked Del if he wanted to eat anything or have anything to drink. He said no and wanted to stay in the car. I ate in the restaurant, and Del threw up more in the parking lot. I felt bad for those customers who might have seen him, because they might think he was sick due to the food there. Sorry. McDonald's.
We finally got back to Columbia with Del still throwing up. He actually felt better the next day. Maybe, he just needed to get back home. I just know I was glad to get into my car, which I had left at Del's house. No more throwing up.
Monday, July 1, 2019
BJ
Back in 1975, I was working in the Book Department at Belk downtown. We hired two girls to work with me over Christmas. One was named Gail and the other was BJ. "BJ" was short for "Betty Jean", but she hated that name so she went by "BJ". She and Gail were college students on holiday break.
BJ took a liking to me. I wish I could have said the same about her, but my heart belonged to someone else, who will remain nameless. In 1976, I moved to Fort Worth, TX to start graduate school. BJ saw the movie "A Star is Born" and became enamored by Kris Kristofferson. She wasn't just a fan. She was a fanatic. Soon after that, I worked with Kris on "Semi-Tough" and wrote to BJ about that, having learned of her liking him. She was overjoyed. I had come in contact with her idol. A year or so later, she moved to Nashville to get a writer's job at Billboard Magazine so that she could get close to the music scene and somehow to Kris. She also had the notion that she could get Kris to stop drinking. She was delusional, but at the same time very creative. When I started working in the Record Department at Sanger Harris in Fort Worth, I got a few promo posters from RCA. One was of Kris. I sent it to her, and she just loved it, until she found out that Kris was with Rita Coolidge, and then she ripped up the poster and burned it.
BJ still had feelings for me though. From Texas, I would send her cassettes with music and thoughts on them, trying to bolster her spirits. She became very depressed. She would send tapes back to me, many of which were disturbing with her depressed mood. When I moved back to Columbia in 1979, she had already moved back from Nashville. She wanted to hook up with me, but my heart belonged to someone else, who will remain nameless.
After many calls and letters, I finally relented and agreed to take her out. It was my goal to tell her that she needed to move on. I took her to see the movie "ET". I must confess that I treated her like dirt. I am not proud of it, but it was the only way to get her to see that she wasn't for me. All of that went over her head. She didn't get the idea, so I just stopped talking to her. We started to drift apart.
Around the mid 1990's, she called me and wanted to know if I could come over to her apartment for dinner. It had been some time since our last meeting, so I agreed. When I got there, she was cooking the dinner. Apparently, she was not a good cook, because she burned the salad. Don't ask me how, but she did. The food was not good, but I tried to put on a brave face. She could tell I didn't like it, but I lied and said I did. I just didn't want to hurt her feelings. Her mental state was very fragile. We adjourned to her couch after "dinner", and she put her arms around me and thanked me for coming over. I did not want this to go to the next level, so I looked at my watch and said I needed to go. I upset her, but she let me go. I got in my car and drove all the way to Sumter that night. Why? I was having mixed feelings about BJ, and I knew I couldn't let this go on. I had to clear my head.
Two years later, I got the news that BJ had killed herself. The official reason was that she had been working at the Dept. of Social Services, and the plight of her clients had gotten to her personally, and she couldn't handle it. She became severely depressed again and killed herself. I blamed myself for her death. If I had only been nicer to her. If I had only listened to her, instead of running away. Would she still be alive today? Those feelings haunted me for a long time after, until I talked with a therapist in 2012. When I went to her funeral, I was sitting in front of two older women. In fact, I was her only friend at her funeral. Everyone else were friends of her parents. These two women were talking and said they had no idea that BJ had problems. They said she went to Carowinds a week before her death and seemed happy. I sat there getting mad. No one listened to BJ. They had no idea.
BJ wrote poetry. She had published a book of her work. When I was over at her place that night, she gave me a copy. The first poem in the book was called "First Love". She told me that it was about me. At her funeral, the minister read that poem. He said he didn't know who it was about, but it expressed her feelings in a meaningful way. I almost crawled under the pew. I was so embarrassed. A couple of weeks later, BJ's mother came over to my place with a shoebox. She said that BJ would have wanted me to have it. The box contained cassette tapes and letters that I had sent to her. It broke my heart even more. I still have them, although I no longer listen to the tapes.
Do I still have regrets about BJ? No. Do I have any feelings still for BJ? No. I only wish that she was still around. She made the choice to kill herself. I thought for a long time that I had been the catalyst, but she made the choice. She was very ill. I just wish she would have gotten some help. If you know anyone like her, listen to what they have to say. Maybe, they won't make the same decision BJ made. And, if anything good came out of her life, I can say honestly that I take the threats of others more seriously. I hope you will, too.
BJ took a liking to me. I wish I could have said the same about her, but my heart belonged to someone else, who will remain nameless. In 1976, I moved to Fort Worth, TX to start graduate school. BJ saw the movie "A Star is Born" and became enamored by Kris Kristofferson. She wasn't just a fan. She was a fanatic. Soon after that, I worked with Kris on "Semi-Tough" and wrote to BJ about that, having learned of her liking him. She was overjoyed. I had come in contact with her idol. A year or so later, she moved to Nashville to get a writer's job at Billboard Magazine so that she could get close to the music scene and somehow to Kris. She also had the notion that she could get Kris to stop drinking. She was delusional, but at the same time very creative. When I started working in the Record Department at Sanger Harris in Fort Worth, I got a few promo posters from RCA. One was of Kris. I sent it to her, and she just loved it, until she found out that Kris was with Rita Coolidge, and then she ripped up the poster and burned it.
BJ still had feelings for me though. From Texas, I would send her cassettes with music and thoughts on them, trying to bolster her spirits. She became very depressed. She would send tapes back to me, many of which were disturbing with her depressed mood. When I moved back to Columbia in 1979, she had already moved back from Nashville. She wanted to hook up with me, but my heart belonged to someone else, who will remain nameless.
After many calls and letters, I finally relented and agreed to take her out. It was my goal to tell her that she needed to move on. I took her to see the movie "ET". I must confess that I treated her like dirt. I am not proud of it, but it was the only way to get her to see that she wasn't for me. All of that went over her head. She didn't get the idea, so I just stopped talking to her. We started to drift apart.
Around the mid 1990's, she called me and wanted to know if I could come over to her apartment for dinner. It had been some time since our last meeting, so I agreed. When I got there, she was cooking the dinner. Apparently, she was not a good cook, because she burned the salad. Don't ask me how, but she did. The food was not good, but I tried to put on a brave face. She could tell I didn't like it, but I lied and said I did. I just didn't want to hurt her feelings. Her mental state was very fragile. We adjourned to her couch after "dinner", and she put her arms around me and thanked me for coming over. I did not want this to go to the next level, so I looked at my watch and said I needed to go. I upset her, but she let me go. I got in my car and drove all the way to Sumter that night. Why? I was having mixed feelings about BJ, and I knew I couldn't let this go on. I had to clear my head.
Two years later, I got the news that BJ had killed herself. The official reason was that she had been working at the Dept. of Social Services, and the plight of her clients had gotten to her personally, and she couldn't handle it. She became severely depressed again and killed herself. I blamed myself for her death. If I had only been nicer to her. If I had only listened to her, instead of running away. Would she still be alive today? Those feelings haunted me for a long time after, until I talked with a therapist in 2012. When I went to her funeral, I was sitting in front of two older women. In fact, I was her only friend at her funeral. Everyone else were friends of her parents. These two women were talking and said they had no idea that BJ had problems. They said she went to Carowinds a week before her death and seemed happy. I sat there getting mad. No one listened to BJ. They had no idea.
BJ wrote poetry. She had published a book of her work. When I was over at her place that night, she gave me a copy. The first poem in the book was called "First Love". She told me that it was about me. At her funeral, the minister read that poem. He said he didn't know who it was about, but it expressed her feelings in a meaningful way. I almost crawled under the pew. I was so embarrassed. A couple of weeks later, BJ's mother came over to my place with a shoebox. She said that BJ would have wanted me to have it. The box contained cassette tapes and letters that I had sent to her. It broke my heart even more. I still have them, although I no longer listen to the tapes.
Do I still have regrets about BJ? No. Do I have any feelings still for BJ? No. I only wish that she was still around. She made the choice to kill herself. I thought for a long time that I had been the catalyst, but she made the choice. She was very ill. I just wish she would have gotten some help. If you know anyone like her, listen to what they have to say. Maybe, they won't make the same decision BJ made. And, if anything good came out of her life, I can say honestly that I take the threats of others more seriously. I hope you will, too.
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