Let us never forget, and let us always remember the challenges that lie beneath the surface

The quake of a normally sturdy floor, a loud explosion, the flickering of lights ... those were the telltale signs that something was amiss, however, no one would know the full impact of those seemingly innocuous disturbances until several minutes later. 

When I think about 9/11 survivors, I, perhaps like many, think about the first responders who ran in when others were running out. I think about the businessmen and -women, clothed for meetings, but looking like they were escaping an apocalyptic horror movie, draped in ash, and running with nowhere to go. I think about those who were lucky enough to escape the towers before they fell, and the police officers ushering people away as quickly as they could.

What I don’t think about is the ripple in the pool of survivors – those in the wake of the terror. Until now.

I had the honor of meeting retired U.S. Army Lieutenant Colonel Ryan Yantis and his wife on the twentieth anniversary of September 11.  His wife happened to mention a book he had been a part of – 9/11 Survivors’ Stories: Midwest Memories.

As a person in the media and an avid book-lover, I sought it out, read the description, and ordered it. It sat for a week or two as I had other pressing reading to do, however, when I picked it up, I read it in two days’ time. Engaging, it was deftly curated with stories of people whose lives were shattered, but who picked up the pieces, some putting the slivers back with brazen wounds still exposed, but others with shards buried under scars neatly hidden beneath an expertly chosen wardrobe. 

The stories are told in chronological order, detailing everything from the early morning building entry, to the deafening sounds of the plane hurtling into Tower One, to the crowded stairwells, the Pentagon, the travel agents who dealt with the aftermath and everything in between.

All the contributors were from or had close ties to the Midwest. As a lifelong Midwesterner, I never had associated 9/11 survivors with the Midwest, but their stories are as pertinent as those who lived in New York and Washington, D.C. They are survivors.

Don Bacso was a young tech-savvy employee at a Chicago-based company who found himself on floor 57 in 1WTC when he heard the thump and felt the unsettling swaying. His gut told him to leave.  He tells of smoke-filled stairwells, and people helping others, and the difficulties he faced trying to call his wife. His co-workers tell similar stories, and many talk about how that day changed them and how they have used their experiences to make a positive impact in the world.

Nick Maviano manned a phone line in Chicago helping co-workers in New York like Don talk to their loved ones via conference call so they wouldn’t lose the connection. He listened as they shared tearful “I love yous,” and details of the situation continuously unfolding, remaining silent, but holding all of that emotion in his heart. He played a critical role that day … hundreds of miles away from the attack.

Damon Wilkinson's piece, raw with emotion, was straight from his journal the day after the attack. His recollections of watching the horror unfold is tactfully sandwiched between memories of people whose stories have had two decades to marinate – shrapnel carefully concealed under long-cared for and nearly unrecognizable scars. His story is told with gaping, untended wounds lying wide open.  It is a jarring chapter that provides context for anyone doubting the heavy weight of that day on those who witnessed such incredible loss. 

Ryan Yantis' excerpt offers rare insight into a different story. He found himself in the Pentagon that fateful day, a mere stone’s throw from the impact of Flight 77. A stalwart military man, even when chaos and questions loomed, he got things done – efficiently and with compassion. As a public affairs officer, he also led the communication between the Pentagon and the public, fielding calls, working amidst rubble, and leading a young intern through the rest of her time at the Pentagon.  I confess to sometimes forgetting the magnitude of 9/11 at the Pentagon that day, and Ryan’s addition put it in the forefront. 

Ryan also recounts a time when he spoke emotionally at an event and a Vietnam veteran approached him. The man suggested he may want to look into a support group. It is then that one sees that the trauma Ryan witnessed and his involvement are, perhaps, more painful than his story leads us to believe. I admire Ryan’s ability to share his experience with PTSD and the strength and courage it takes to actively seek support and work to heal. I admire the Vietnam veteran who saw the anguish that had been on this man’s shoulders and who sought him out to tell him it was OK.

This book demonstrates the breadth of human kindness, the depth of grief and suffering, and the restoration of joy from debilitating ashes. Vivid images of people helping strangers now come back to me – people bonding in a moment of terror and offering help when they, themselves, needed the same. So, perhaps my initial assessment was not wrong. All survivors found themselves covered in a thick layer of dust that, despite the many years, still leaves its residue buried beneath the cracks and crevices of life, rising to the surface in the most unexpected times. 

Survivors need one another. They watched in agony as people fell in front of them. They stayed on the line. They saw the moments of impact.  They are resilient -- together. But they also need us – they need us to not forget.

9/11 Survivors’ Stories: Midwest Memories does this. It is un-sensationalized, unsullied by media, untouched by Hollywood. It is the unfolding of one day, told by those who experienced it with a macro lens. But, despite the plethora of vignettes giving you a front-row seat to the horrific main event, you close the cover on the book knowing that, despite the great evil and despite the immeasurable loss, there is unspeakable goodness that even the darkest of days cannot dampen. These men and women are light. Having been gifted another day, they choose to live that one-more-day with gratitude and leave the world better for having tread here. 

I’m beyond grateful that Ryan’s wife talked with me that day. I don’t know that I would have known this book existed without her willingness to share it. I walked away with a greater understanding of what it meant to have survived September 11, and, though I am a person who tries to remember that everyone is dealing with their own silent battles, this book compelled me to remember that there are much larger battles out there than I ever dreamed … looming just beneath the surface of those I walk with every day.

Be kind. Speak life. Never Forget.

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To learn more about September 11th and those who work to help those who survived, visit: American Pride, Inc.  

To purchase the book, visit:  9/11 Survivors' Stories: Midwest Memories

Retired U.S. Army Lt. Col. Ryan Yantis speaks at a 9/11 Memorial.

Yantis with the book he saw to its finish.

Yantis and fellow survivor Don Bacso conduct a book-signing at Read Between The Lynes earlier this month.

Veteran Suicide Awareness Walk -- Operation Wild Horse

****** Veteran Crisis Line – call : 1-800-273-8255 or text: 838255******

Veteran suicide is not topic that is easy to discuss, but it is necessary to talk about.

September is Suicide Awareness month.  Operation Wild Horse – Veterans R&R puts the painful topic at the forefront. 

The outdoor walk guides participants in a 2.2-mile trek down the road and up one of the steepest hills in the area. Veterans, civilians, wild mustangs, and burros make the difficult climb in solidarity. Civilians walk so veterans know they have their back, and veterans walk because they’ve all been touched by suicide.

The 2.2 miles represents the 22 veterans the United States loses to suicide each day. I am crushed every time I hear this number.  Every life is valuable. I strongly believe that. We were created at this particular moment in history for a specific purpose.  When one light goes out … the world is dimmer. 

Operation Wild Horse began to keep the light in this world. The organization gives hope to veterans. As non-profit serving veterans and active-duty military and their family, OWH knows the value of pairing mustangs – the classic symbol of both Americana and freedom – and the military – the heroes who protect that freedom.

Operation Wild Horse rescues the endangered American icon and gives them a home in Bull Valley, Illinois, where they are given a second chance at life, and, in doing so, allows military families to find a second chance as well. 

One visit to the barn is all a person needs to soak in the peace and positivity that abounds at Operation Wild Horse. From veterans helping out around the facility, to board members visiting to ensure things are going well, to volunteers assisting with a variety of jobs, smiles and hugs await. These veterans honestly share the impact the horses, President USMC veteran Jimmy Welch, and Program Director Patti Gruber have had on their lives. Many firmly believe that the horses saved their lives -- and they give back a hundred-fold. Those who were unable to walk the giant hill helped in whatever capacity they could.

I’ve heard these men and women talk and cry about the blessing this facility is to them. I’ve talked with countless veterans who describe the kind of unspeakable bond they have with horses… and the ability those creatures have to settle their soul and bring a quietness to their minds. The wild mustang knows the plight of the veteran. The wild mustang has learned to fight for freedom. The wild mustang knows what trauma feels like when they are rounded up only to live a life of more trauma or not live at all.

So the veterans, always at the ready, always alert, always seeking adrenaline, understand these horses. They look the mustang in the eye, and their hearts speak what their tongues cannot. They know what it feels like to be forced to shift their mission, and their new mission is to save one another. And it is a beautiful.

So, the Suicide Awareness walk is not an empty walk. The cost to participate in the walk helps support Operation Wild Horse – Veterans R&R so they can reach more military families. 

Veterans from the Korean War up to current conflicts have benefitted and continue to benefit from the organization, and seeing the tremendous support from the community is inspiring. Men and women who lived in the area popped in because they believe in Operations Wild Horse. Veterans and their families walked side-by-side, supporting each other and the community that makes this safe haven possible. 

You can support them, too, at:  https://veteransrandr.org/operation-wild-horse/

If you are a veteran or active-duty military, also check them out.

If you or a veteran you love needs help, please call the veteran crisis line: 1-800-273-8255 or text: 838255

Your life is valuable.  You have a purpose. 

Twentieth Anniversary of 9/11 Reflection and images from the William Chandler Peterson American Legion Post 171 ceremony with Lt. Col. Yantis

Twenty years ago – before the news apps that sent alerts to our phones in real time, before every classroom had internet, before communications became constant – I was standing before high school juniors, getting ready to begin period two. 

I remember a student coming in saying that the Twin Towers were gone. I brushed him off, knowing that was incomprehensible. Afterall, my father was supposed to be flying out to New York, and, surely, I would have known.

But, then, the principal announced on the PA system that the United States of American was under attack, and that planes had crashed into those buildings.

In a world of disconnect – when I couldn’t text my mom – I spent my passing periods begging the teacher across the hall to help me figure out where those planes took off. In my news-locked world, I couldn’t comprehend the magnitude.

It was only when I got home and had the ability to watch the news that I had any idea – and, at the time, it was pretty vague yet – what was truly happening. It was a time without access to 24/7 news, and news was just pouring over every channel. It was then that I saw the gravity.

My father’s plane was grounded before he even got to the airport, and I don’t think I fully comprehended how thankful I was until years later.

Today, twenty years later, I still get chills when this day comes around. I still feel anxious. I still cry when I see images of that fateful day. I still remember the eeriness of a vacant sky. 

I couldn’t believe that life would ever look the same.

Twenty years and a pandemic later, my entire life perspective has changed. I was a brand-new English teacher then, without a husband, without a family, without any inkling of what my own future would hold. I had so much to learn after that before I could unpack this day.

People talk about the heroes that day. People talk about those who lost their lives. People talk about those who survived. People talk.

I’m a person who is moved by images, too. Older, with children of my own, I see videos and stills of strangers pouring water on strangers’ faces to clear the debris. I see strangers holding hands, dragging them out to safety. I see first responders doing what they do without question. I see people running in where I think – no, I know – I might have run out. In those images, I see despair being pierced by strangers who held out hope. I see an America where people came together to support and raised up strangers, upheld our democracy, and reached across political aisles and religious aisles in unity under our flag.

My country is still that country. I have had twenty more years to become more experienced. I have had twenty more years to meet people who are real-life superheroes.  I have had twenty more years to understand the pain, but twenty more years to understand the compassion.

I witnessed veterans coming together yesterday – I listened as a Vietnam veteran and an Afghanistan veteran talked about their very different returns.  And I thought about how much those two groups now have in common.

We are a country distracted, Lt. Col. U.S. Army (ret.) Ryan Yantis said as he spoke in Crystal Lake. We are a country distracted, much like we were twenty years ago. He said we are arguing and not listening and not paying attention, while another country, with “angry men who want to hurt us,” looms unnoticed in the distance.

Lt. Col. Yantis was in the Pentagon that day – mere minutes before the attack, he had stood in that space. He survived. And he told me that he spoke today, from “scars and not wounds.”

He spoke about the other survivors – from all areas – who recall the first responders who helped them – the stoic ones who were determined to climb the stairs and save anyone they could.  Yantis, himself, remembered the people who brought food, signs, and encouragement in the days after the attack, which he said brought those who had survived, comfort. 

He spoke of the flags flying across the nation, and the surge of patriotism – where, people put the division aside, took a breath, and spoke to one another, and, above all, listened.

 And, as Yantis encouraged those in attendance today to remember the cost – the people whose lives were lost and the people whose lives were changed forever – but to never forget, and to “find common ground,” and to “be the people helping others,” his message spoke to me more than any.

I think these are the words on the tongues of nearly all Americans: We need more common ground and less division. The men and women who fight for our country deserve that. The men and women who died on September 11 deserve that. 

Images from the Crystal Lake 9/11 Memorial Ceremony hosted by William Chandler Peterson American Legion Post 171, The USMC, Operation Wild Horse, Crystal Lake Police Department and Fire Department, and Lt. Col. US Army (ret.) Ryan Yantis.

Oscar Mike, Orange County Choppers ~ Noah Currier, Paul Sr.

Motorcycle mogul Paul Teutul Sr, Orange County Choppers

Best of friends: Paul Teutul Sr. and Noah Currier

Over the Fourth of July weekend, I witnessed strength, courage, and resilience in action.

Woodstock Harley-Davidson hosted a bike run through McHenry County, pairing up Noah Currier, founder of the Oscar Mike Foundation, with Orange County Choppers founder Paul Teutul Sr. for a ride that was as unforgettable as it was inspiring. Veterans, civilians, and first responders gathered to support injured veterans – and enjoyed some fresh-air and country riding, too.

USMC veteran Noah Currier returned safely after serving his country in Iraq and Afghanistan, only to be involved in a car accident a mere couple of days later. 

That accident would leave the Marine Corps gunner paralyzed. 

Noah managed to navigated life as a quadriplegic, but when his fiancé was killed in yet another tragic car accident, Currier said his life spiraled out of control.  It was when he found himself in the throes of the darkest of depressions with his life teetering in the balance, that his friends, who continued to stand by him, eventually involved him in athletics again. 

Despite believing that sports had no place in his life anymore, his friends proved him wrong - -and he has never looked back. In fact, he just keeps pulling more and more into the light by keeping them On-The-Move.

Noah told me that being active again saved his life, but, what seems even more important is that he pays it forward a hundred-fold, and others’ lives continue to be saved through motion.

His courage in the face of adversity gave him the confidence to begin a company, which, in turn, lead to a foundation.

Today, the Oscar Mike brand is a noticeable fixture in the closets of both military and civilians alike – and on the streets. What began as an apparel company now employs and sustains injured veterans and has supported a foundation that gives hope to other injured veterans.

The Oscar Mike Foundation sponsors weekends at their compound where injured veterans partake in skydiving, flying planes, completing obstacle courses, and driving UTVs among other things. Noah said that if paraplegics, quadriplegics, and other injured veterans can accomplish these big things (and, let me tell you, you’ll never catch me skydiving or doing obstacle course races)… they can get dressed on their own, shower, and do life.

With a mission as incredible as that, it is only fitting that someone just as driven partnered with Noah. That man is Paul Teutul Sr.

Yes, Paul Sr., of Orange County Chopper fame saw Noah at a Spartan Race, was inspired by the drive and determination he saw, and forged a friendship with the young entrepreneur. That friendship spawned a tattoo, nearly daily bantering, and … an Oscar Mike motorcycle, to boot.

Friends who tattoo together ....

Paul Teutul Sr.'s custom bike made for Oscar Mike

I’ll admit that I’ve never seen an OCC episode (I would later find out, to my surprise, that my husband has been a viewer of the show). But, a friend told me that I should swing over to Woodstock Harley-Davidson that day because the motorcycle mogul was there. 

I went. Cameras in tow.

It turned out that Paul Sr. and his girlfriend Joannie Kay were leading the inaugural Independence Ride to raise money for the Marengo-based Oscar Mike. 

Joannie Kay and Paul Teutul Sr.

Noah Currier drives a customized Vanderhall vehicle during the ride with Erin Clausen.

Pretty cool, right? 

I met some nice people, watched this man sign autographs and take selfies for some time, and thought I’d head out. When one of the WHD employees asked if I wanted an interview, I relented. Ten minutes later, I was sitting with Mr. Teutul in front of the Hall of Honor talking about the countryside and the agriculture McHenry County boasts. Did I admit that I’d never watched his show? Did I confess that I thought he was in California? Yep. But, he took it in stride. And – he seemed to enjoy talking about the ride. He couldn’t say enough about the Oscar Mike Foundation. He was kind (and so was his girlfriend who also sports an Oscar Mike tattoo). It was one of the nicest interviews I've had where I knew nothing about the topic at hand ~ and he made it enjoyable.

Photo credit: Patrick Kruse @ WHD

By the way, Oscar Mike is military-speak for On-The-Move. Noah and his team make sure that they are constantly Oscar Mike – and they keep reaching more and more veterans, in hopes that that veteran suicide statistic I write about so often, declines.

Noah, I think your mission is incredible – and, Paul, Sr., thanks for giving an interview to The Woodstock Independent (see article here) reporter who didn’t have a clue how famous you were. Keep Oscar Mike, you two!

To support the mission and keep injured veterans Oscar Mike, visit: https://www.oscarmike.org/pages/foundation

To buy some pretty cool apparel *and* support injured veterans, visit: https://www.oscarmike.org/

If, like me, you don’t know anything about Paul Sr., Orange County Choppers, or the OCC Road House and Museum, visit: https://orangecountychoppers.com/

Someone drove one of the OCC's first bikes onto the Woodstock Harley-Davidson showroom floor and Paul Sr. reminisced about the process before he signed the early 2000's chopper.

Memorial Day 2021 ... Elmer Bigelow and the importance of the day

Every Memorial Day, I try to continue instill in my children the idea of the immense sacrifice so many have made in service to our nation.

We are incredibly blessed to have many, many members of the military – active duty, retired, and veterans – who provide a positive role model for my girls, and who instill that sense of pride in our country and respect for those who serve.

Because of this, my girls take a vested interest in military history. They have spent time talking with those who serve and understand the physical, emotional, and invisible toll it takes on the men and women who take that oath.

This year, I was able to write about Medal of Honor recipient US Navy Water Tender Second Class Elmer Bigelow.  He saved the USS Fletcher from demise – and allowed it to serve the country in both WWII and Korea, but forfeited his own life. A Hebron native, Elmer and his brother Lester both enlisted in the US Navy. Elmer and Lester met outside of Corregidor during WWII just before Elmer died battling a blaze in the powder cases after taking enemy fire. 

As so often happens, I was blessed to find that Lester’s son Scott was in town the day I was writing this piece for The Woodstock Independent.  Scott met me to see his father’s and his uncle’s uniforms on display at our local sweet shop, The Sugar Circle. 

In talking, I realized that Lester had his own story – aboard the USS West Virginia during the bombing of Pearl Harbor, stationed on the USS Minneapolis which saw intense battle all over the Pacific, and, serving on the Hornet, where he last saw his brother Elmer. 

How hard it must have been for Lester to have seen all that he had and to have lost a brother, too.  The USS Bigelow was named after his brother. Stories would be told. And, from what Scott told me, Lester let his own stories become the background while Elmer’s remained in the foreground.

That is the very definition of Memorial Day. 

Gold Star families suffer much.  I think of Brittany Jacobs, whose husband USMC Sgt. Christopher Jacobs was killed in a training accident. His son never really knew his father. I think I think of people I’ve met whose sons were killed in action – US Army Cpl. Keith Nurnberg, USMC Cpl. C.J. Boyd – and I’ve met countless others whose dear friends have not returned from shared missions. 

I am committed to not letting their names go unspoken. Their lives live on because of their sacrifice. 

For a few days longer, the Woodstock Square will have uniforms up in windows. Some have passed on, some offer to put up their uniforms to honor those who did not return. It is a somber reminder that, in the midst of service, there is grave danger … and we are the home of the free because of those brave. 

Vietnam Veterans Day, Operation Wild Horse 2021

On March 29, 1973, the last United States troops were withdrawn from Vietnam. In 2017, President Trump signed into law that National Vietnam War Veterans Day would be honored every March 29.

Though Vietnam veterans answered the call of their country, the homecoming for these men and women would be overwhelmingly unsavory. In a war that lasted nearly 20 years, the U.S. suffered more than 58,000 causalities, endured the pain of 1,253 MIAs and 2,500 POWs, and incurred more than 304,000 wounded. The U.S. government would confer 238 Medals of Honor upon those who served.

The Department of Veterans Affairs estimates that there are more than 6 million U.S. Vietnam veterans alive today.

These Vietnam veterans are a unique group. Many were drafted. Some suffered physical wounds, some were permanently disabled, many struggle with the continued and long-lasting effects of Agent Orange Exposure, and many continue to deal with the invisible wounds of war – namely, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder – after years of batting through readjustment problems that never were given a name.

Still many emerged as holding important roles in the U.S. including Jim Nicholson, Frederick W. Smith, John McCain and Colin Powell. 

But the common thread is that they all were involved in a grueling war and returned to an unsupportive nation, some taking off their uniforms never to put them on again, in an effort to hide their service.  I have personally interviewed Vietnam veterans who were spat upon, yelled at, and ridiculed at airports. I’ve heard the anger rise up as they speak. I’ve seen the tears that well up, fifty years or more after the experience.

In recent years, these men and women have worked hard to ensure that no soldier returns home to a similar experience. They have dedicated their lives to supporting troops and organizing parades. They also have begun to talk more frequently about their service and share their stories.

Two of these veterans – George and Marty, who found healing and respite at an organization called Operation Wild Horse in Bull Valley, Illinois – recently shared a sliver of their stories with me.

George, drafted by the U.S. Army, had a difficult time readjusting. In Vietnam, George was a “tunnel rat.” These men notoriously performed underground search and destroy missions, but coming home, George found it difficult to work for and, sometimes with, others. Eventually he started his own business, but in the interim, George suffered the breakdown of his first marriage, raised his children alone before remarrying, and then, recently, found peace alongside wild mustangs. 

The irony resounds, but mustangs have long represented American freedom. Though domesticated, they still remember the fight or flight response that facilitated survival in the wild – and, veterans know that feeling all too well. Vietnam veterans, in particular, feel it. 

Hardened by their experiences, they distrust before they trust. They often live an unsettled life. They sit with their back toward the wall. They are skeptical of motives. People can put on a façade. 

But mustangs don’t judge. Mustangs don’t lie

U.S. Marine and Vietnam veteran Marty looks these mustangs in the eye. He told me that he didn’t realize he could love something so big so much. They don’t judge him on his past or on his current struggles. They meet him where he is. They know the struggles of survival – because they’ve been there, too.  They’ve fought to stay alive … much like these Vietnam veterans. Marty’s bond has grown so close that he spends his own money that, in the past, he might have used to buy alcohol, on fresh vegetables and fruit for the horses at Operation Wild Horse.  He told me that it has kept him sober.

These are the stories that touch me. These men, who endured much, on foreign soil on which they never asked to set foot, who fought for a country who failed to welcome them home, who sacrificed everything as they followed their commanders, who now are finding ways to make peace with the anger – they are the men who inspire me.

Click here to read the article I recently wrote about George, Marty, and Operation Wild Horse – learn how organizations like OWH are struggling during this pandemic, but continue to meet the very important needs of veterans of all eras. To learn more about the organization or to learn how you can support them, please visit: operationwildhorse.org

In my many years of working with and interviewing Vietnam veterans, I’ve found big hearts under gruff exteriors. I’ve found extraordinary stories buried deep under dense barriers. I’ve found tried and true friendships after a slowly developed trust. It has been one of the greatest joys of my life – to listen to these stories and to discover the strength and courage that lies beneath the “Vietnam Veteran” label. For some, it defines their entire existence. For some, it remains a hidden part of their past.  For others, they wear the title with dignity. For still others, it has become so seamlessly woven into the fabric of their lives that the title is just one of many they wear well. 

Today is a day to remember and honor these men and women. If you know a Vietnam veteran -or a Vietnam-era veteran, thank them. Listen to them. Welcome them home.

All veterans who served from November 1, 1955 through May 15, 1975 are recognized today – regardless of location. 

“To ensure the sacrifices of the 9 million heroes who served during this difficult chapter of our country’s history are remembered for generations to come, I signed into law the Vietnam War Veterans Recognition Act of 2017, designating March 29 of each year as National Vietnam War Veterans Day. Throughout this Commemoration of the 50th Anniversary of the Vietnam War, and every March 29 thereafter, we will honor all those who answered our Nation’s call to duty.” -President Trump