Remembering the Iowa 2012

Every year, on this day, I remember.

I remember sitting at my desk in the Washington Hilton.  

And then the phone rang.  And it was my brother Jason’s friend Leslie, watching CNN back in Houston.

There was an explosion in one of the turrets on the USS Iowa.

The terror & fear I felt with that phone call have never left me.  I remember wanting to be home, to be with my mother & sister Janet & brother John.  

But I couldn’t, so I called someone & asked for help.

A someone I met while working on a George I inaugural ball & its flowers.

And so, because of that someone & her son (who was with Naval intelligence) & flowers for an inaugural ball for a man who did not get my vote, I learned that my brother Jason was not listed among the missing on the Iowa.

Although I could not be with my family during this time, I was able to call my mother & tell her that her youngest child was alive.

That day changed my life.  

It taught me not to take anything for granted, to respect connections, to hold onto family.

And to respect the privilege & joy & wonder of living.

Today I remember the young sailors my brother brought to my Foggy Bottom apartment on Virginia Avenue & the men who did not leave the USS Iowa alive.

As I will every year.