I am sitting at the kitchen table my grandfather fabricated out of a used iron spool upon which paper was wrapped as it came off the machines at the Weyerhaeuser plant on the waterfront of Everett, Washington, my hometown. The table is round, and has a Formica top. Generations have eaten here.
I have chosen to write this piece sitting in the exact spot where ten years ago this September 11th I first heard Bob Edwards of National Public Radio interrupted, then report that an airplane had flown into one of the trade towers in New York.
It is the same spot where my grandfather listened all night to reports of the Normandy invasion on June 6th 1944. The radios have changed in that time, but they sit in the same place in the kitchen.
Leslie Ralph “Spud” Hartman built this house himself in 1941-42 with the assistance of my grandmother Lenore and a few friends. After Pearl Harbor was attacked December 7th 1941 men rushed to join the military. The government also began to designate certain industries as strategic, and also began to declare certain goods as war material.
Seeing the speed at which goods were being commandeered by the government he took delivery of the Sears-Roebuck furnace he had ordered for this place, even though he wasn’t really ready for it. He spoke to the lumber supplier for the home, Martin Lumber, still on Broadway and Wall, to store it for him until he was ready. The next day the furnace was declared war material, but he and grandma and my mother had heat throughout the war because he had paid attention. He was self reliant.
Then, without telling anyone he tried to join the Navy. Too old, he was told. And besides, he was working in a strategic industry.
And so he spent the war here at the mill, listening to reports from the front in this kitchen on a radio that sits where my radio sits. He watched the P-38 fighters training out over our bay, and one day saw a one of these airplanes in a steep dive fail to pull out in time and crash into our beautiful sea.
This house had the first television on the block in 1954. Spud won it in the Salmon Derby, held each year in our bay when salmon was plentiful. The house was crowded with neighbors for weeks after that.
I was happy I had a television on September 11th 2001 because nothing Bob Edwards said prepared me for the pictures of the twin trade towers on fire then collapsing.
I had been calmly eating my oatmeal until Edwards report. He managed to get an eyewitness on the phone describing
how people were jumping from the towers. What struck me most about the interview was how calm and matter of fact the eyewitness delivered the facts, like he was calling a ballgame.
I recall thinking this, then contrasting to the reports of the same era as World War II. Perhaps Edward R.
Murrow was less emotional than the reporter describing the crash of the airship Hindenburg at Lakehurst New Jersey in
1937, but he was never flat.
The bumperstickers that declare “We will never forget” and display the flag are tattered, faded and worn now 10 years on. But this kitchen table is still here, and my memories are as fresh as my grandfathers were of his war. And I would like to compare notes.