I became a police officer because I wanted to help others and serve my community. Like most officers, I have come to realize that it's often a thankless job. We are called upon day in and day out to help people solve their problems, and we do this because we chose to, or maybe we do it because the job has chosen us.
While I was on patrol Tuesday, September 11, 2001, our country was both shocked and horrified by the events that occurred in New York, Washington, D.C., and Pennsylvania. When I first heard the terrible news, I pulled the patrol car over, stunned. I sat there, wondering how this could have happened. As the day progressed, I became more and more emotional. As I sat at a stoplight in my patrol car, listening to the radio broadcasts, my heart became heavy with sorrow for the enormous loss of life and for the victims' families. Tears welled up, threatening to overflow. The death of so many brave policemen and firefighters, so many innocent citizens, was worthy of my tears. It would be unusual if one didn't cry under such circumstances. As I glanced to the left and right of me, I saw so many of my neighbors stunned and in tears. I realized I was not alone; other people were watching. I'm a cop. I cannot cry. I can show no signs of weakness. Especially at a time when I knew we all needed to be strong, we all needed strong signs of reassurance.
So I took a deep breath and held back the tears; thinking to myself, "When I get home I can let the tears flow." I worked the whole day with my heart in my throat, holding myself in tight control. It was a quiet day in Wilson; the people were stunned, glued to TV sets, trying to understand the minds of those who could harm innocent people. Like the other policemen, emergency personnel, and firemen of Wilson, I worked the day through, did my job with professional pride, telling myself, over and over, that when I got home I could let go, be scared and enraged, and let myself cry.
This was not to be the case.
When I got home, I was greeted at the door with hugs from my wife and our three young children. My wife looked at me and said, "This is going to be tough to explain to them." They had seen the news broadcasts of the plane crashes and heard the words "attacked," "hijacked," and "terror." How do you explain such tragic events to seven- and four-year-olds? So with the news broadcasts playing quietly in the background, we sat down and tried to explain that some "bad men" had caused the planes to crash and that a lot of people had died. I could feel the tears welling up again, but knew I could not cry. I am the Dad. I have to be strong. I cannot cry. Again, I took a deep breath and held back the tears.
As I finished my workweek, I listened to the news broadcasts with the realization that the tragic events on Tuesday had made a great impact on our country and would be the cause of many changes in our country. As a veteran, I also realized that the actions taken by the United States would more than likely bring about the loss of many more lives. Again, my heart became heavy with sorrow.
Friday, my first day off, I went to the gym to work out. The talk around the gym was about the tragedies that had befallen our great country. As I spoke with Tracy, a staff member of the gym, we talked about the hundreds of firemen, police officers, and rescue personnel who rushed into the first tower without a second thought. Their focus was on doing their job to the best of their abilities. Their focus was on helping others who needed their strength and skills. They expected no thanks. It was their job, what they had been trained to do. They were men and women, husbands and wives, sons and daughters. And in an instant they were gone. Tracy told me that she and the staff felt helpless and just wanted to do something. With the blood drives delayed until the following week, they decided to provide lunches for the firemen of Station Five. Tracy told me the lunches were simple, and as they were presented, several of the firemen began to cry. As she related this to me, she, too, began to cry. With tears in her eyes and a slight smile, she looked at me and said, "If no one else has told you this, then I will. I appreciate what you all do for us. Thank you."
Thank you,Tracy.
And on that Friday, I cried.