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December Commentary from George Spiro Dibie Four Hours in September I was rudely awakened by the jangling ring of a telephone. The clock at our bedside said that it was 6 a.m. I instantly awoke when I answered the phone and heard my daughter's voice. She was calling from London where she and her husband and three of our grandchildren live. We could hear her voice trembling. We knew something was terribly wrong. Our first thought was that something horrible had happened to one of them. She was telling us to turn on the television set, because she was worried about her brother. It was September 11. The news was on every channel. Two commercial airplanes had deliberately crashed into the World Trade Center. From the carnage, it was obvious that many thousands of lives would be lost before the final toll was counted. A third plane had crashed into the Pentagon, in Washington, D.C. We could see the devastation, and anxiously switched from channel to channel desperately seeking news, but all the TV anchors had to report was unsubstantiated rumors and what we could see with our own eyes. We were hungry for any news, because we believed our son, who works for Boeing, a defense contractor, was at the Pentagon that morning. We called our other daughter in Clearwater, Florida, and our son's wife in Los Angeles. We woke both of them up and told them the news before they heard it from anyone else. I went right to our daughter-in-law's side, so I could be with her and our two grandchildren in case the news was bad. The children were much too young to understand our fears, but I wanted to hold them on my knees, as close as possible, both to comfort me and to keep them feeling loved and safe. My wife stayed at home, so she could be close to the telephone for any news-good or bad. Our friends and other family members were calling and beginning to gather at our house. By then, we had heard that three people from Boeing were on the airplane that crashed into the Pentagon. We didn't know if our son was among them. I remember an intense feeling of regret for all the days I had spent away from my family working impossible hours on jobs and also on behalf of my colleagues in the Guild. I promised myself that everything would be different in the future. I would always put my family first. Finally, four hours after that first call, my daughter called from London again. She was the first to get the news that her brother-our son, our grandchildren's father-was safe. He had postponed his return flight to Los Angeles by a day because he had some work to complete, but three of his colleagues were among the more than 6,000 innocent victims. I swore to myself that day that I would always put my family first, and from then on, I would make every second count. Life is too precious and fragile to gamble on the future. I soon decided that our lives must also go on in normal ways, otherwise the terrorists will have achieved their goal. I flew to New York City with Bruce Doering to see if there was anything we could do for our members who live and work there. We also wanted to let them know that we care. They aren't alone. I can't tell you that I will ever be exactly the same person I was before those four horrific hours on September 11. As we approach this holiday season, it is a good time for all of us to get our priorities straight, and to remember what is most important in our lives. Treasure your family, friends and neighbors. Hold them close, and give them the love and attention they deserve before it is too late. Give thanks that you are privileged to live in a free country in this remarkable profession. Be thankful for your career. I know this is an imperfect world, but it happens to be the only one we have. Make the most of it. HAPPY HOLIDAYS. As always, I look forward
to your comments and suggestions. Please
e-mail
them to me. George Spiro Dibie, ASC
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