9/11 My Tribute

9/11 The Day That Changed My Life

I remember waking up that morning. I knew what I was photographing first that day. I was a staff photographer for the Johnson County Daily Journal in Franklin, Indiana back then. I had been working on a story about a 100+ year-old grain elevator being torn down.

It was a photo essay and my first written news feature. I got a good long heads up on this. I wanted to explore this subject and what the local impact would be in this small town of Amity, Indiana. I interviewed a minister, a barber, and 80-year-old woman. I was told of stories of love, death, and back breaking hard work. I remember good friend Brian Corbin had helped with this story and keep the story on track for me.

On 9/11 this grain elevator, that time forgot, would stand no longer. I had no idea at 6am as loaded my cameras and checked my gear, neither would two American icons, and over 3,000 American lives would be lost. Life for me would change forever.

Shortly after 8:00am I headed to the job site. I turned on the local talk radio station as I did every morning to stay tuned in for local breaking news that may be affecting me. I also turned on my police scanners. It was another day at a small six day a week rag, and for the most part I was lovin’ it.

As I pulled out I noticed my local talk jocks were not on. Instead it was a live New York feed. An airplane had crashed into the Trade Center. This was early on. No one at this point knew for sure it was terrorism. Ten minutes later I was there. I knew my editors and colleges were heading to the newsroom. I knew to expect a phone call about this, but at the time there was nothing for me to do. So, I continued as I would.

I watched the grain elevator as its attackers took it down. I shot metal and wood as it came crashing down, and little did I know at the same moment photographers in New York were photographing people jumping from the burning World Trade Center.

Then I got the call. It was my editor redirecting me to get a local reaction fast. I went right up the street to a small mom and pop dinner. There it was live on TV. People were no longer eating their breakfasts. Eggs went cold on their plates. Then it happened. Live. The 2^nd plane crashed into the 2^nd tower. We were at war. Photographers all over the country and world were doing what I was doing at that moment. We all were documenting the day that life changed in America.

My next thought was of the firefighters. I understood firefighters like no other outside person in my area. I slept at the firehouse. I went out with these real American heroes on real calls, and I went into burning buildings with them. They were my brothers. I knew my brothers were entering those burning death traps. Firefighters have a brotherhood like no other profession I know. I got my shots of the cold eggs, and went to the first firehouse I came to with a full-time crew.

It was B shift. Normally I walk in the door these people greet me with open arms. They offer me a seat at their table in their home. Gumby, Mudd, and others were on shift. They were starting their 24 on.

They knew more than I. They knew that steel death trap would not stand. They knew men and women of their brotherhood were going to die.

Then it happened I watch my brothers die that day. They went there do save lives; to loose their own. My brothers in that room with me said nothing to me as I entered the room. There was nothing to say. We are at war and over 3,000 Americans died. They are all heroes, but 343 were my brothers.

343 Never Forget

This weekend I got to photograph the celebration of a new life. I photographed two becoming one, in marriage. Salute the over 3,000 family, friends, and Americans that have been lost in their fight to these radical people trying to destroy us all.

Please go thank a firefighter, police officer, or someone serving in any branch of the military. We all have lost, but never forget. Never… it’s unpatriotic to do so.

This is my tribute.