Remembering 9/11
Seventeen years ago, on October 11th 2001, I started graduate school with the intention of becoming a licensed mental health counselor and going into private practice. That evening I attended a new student orientation at Portland State University with about 150 counseling students. Exactly one month prior to the day our nation had been attacked, experiencing the most tragic stateside event in our lifetimes. My brother was six years into an active duty Army career, serving as an Apache helicopter pilot. We grew up and had family up and down the east coast. Like everyone else I was rocked by the event, the implications for our nation, and for my loved one serving in the U.S. military. I was humbled by the suffering and service of innocent civilians and first responders in New York City.
As I sat through the three hour Counselor Education orientation, I waited for one of the six professors to make mention of 9/11. I waited for one of them to speak of the horror, the mental and spiritual shock to our nation, which seemed so poignant and relevant to a prospective group of mental health counselors, not to mention our collective psyche as Americans. I waited in vain. I sat in disbelief. I thought of my brother, my family on the east coast, those in New York, and our nation. I was fortunate to pair up for an ice breaker exercise with a student who had recently moved to Portland from New York City. Her father was still living there and had been in the city on 9/11.
This was a prescient moment, and my first taste of a sense of isolation that was to ensue over the next few years. I knew no one in Portland who was in or had a family member serving in the military. I stayed in close touch with my family over the next couple of years, as our government considered and planned for all military options and actions in response to the attack. I waited to see what would happen with my brother.
I felt the sense of isolation most poignantly in 2003 when my brother deployed for the invasion of Iraq. He was going to war. But everywhere and everyone around me seemed to be living another reality. My sense of isolation and my desire to serve the cause in some capacity prompted me to cold call the Portland VA Medical Center in 2005, kick-starting a lifelong career and passion for working with veterans and first responders.
I was humbled and honored to work with so many young veterans who had joined the military in response to 9/11 to serve and protect our nation. I remain humbled to this day to continue working with veterans and first responders through Central Oregon Veterans Ranch and the Police Academy at the Department of Public Safety Standards and Training.
Today we remember all those who have served, and who currently serve, placing their lives on the line and putting service above self for our safety and for our great nation. And we remember everyone whose lives were lost, or impacted, by the tragedy of 9/11.
Thank you to all who have served, and those who continue to serve.
Seventeen years ago, on October 11th 2001, I started graduate school with the intention of becoming a licensed mental health counselor and going into private practice. That evening I attended a new student orientation at Portland State University with about 150 counseling students. Exactly one month prior to the day our nation had been attacked, experiencing the most tragic stateside event in our lifetimes. My brother was six years into an active duty Army career, serving as an Apache helicopter pilot. We grew up and had family up and down the east coast. Like everyone else I was rocked by the event, the implications for our nation, and for my loved one serving in the U.S. military. I was humbled by the suffering and service of innocent civilians and first responders in New York City.
As I sat through the three hour Counselor Education orientation, I waited for one of the six professors to make mention of 9/11. I waited for one of them to speak of the horror, the mental and spiritual shock to our nation, which seemed so poignant and relevant to a prospective group of mental health counselors, not to mention our collective psyche as Americans. I waited in vain. I sat in disbelief. I thought of my brother, my family on the east coast, those in New York, and our nation. I was fortunate to pair up for an ice breaker exercise with a student who had recently moved to Portland from New York City. Her father was still living there and had been in the city on 9/11.
This was a prescient moment, and my first taste of a sense of isolation that was to ensue over the next few years. I knew no one in Portland who was in or had a family member serving in the military. I stayed in close touch with my family over the next couple of years, as our government considered and planned for all military options and actions in response to the attack. I waited to see what would happen with my brother.
I felt the sense of isolation most poignantly in 2003 when my brother deployed for the invasion of Iraq. He was going to war. But everywhere and everyone around me seemed to be living another reality. My sense of isolation and my desire to serve the cause in some capacity prompted me to cold call the Portland VA Medical Center in 2005, kick-starting a lifelong career and passion for working with veterans and first responders.
I was humbled and honored to work with so many young veterans who had joined the military in response to 9/11 to serve and protect our nation. I remain humbled to this day to continue working with veterans and first responders through Central Oregon Veterans Ranch and the Police Academy at the Department of Public Safety Standards and Training.
Today we remember all those who have served, and who currently serve, placing their lives on the line and putting service above self for our safety and for our great nation. And we remember everyone whose lives were lost, or impacted, by the tragedy of 9/11.
Thank you to all who have served, and those who continue to serve.
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