I remember having a conversation with my mother when I was in high school about United States presidents. As part of a high-ranking military family, she grew up knowing much more than just who the Commander in Chief was, and she developed a deep appreciation for U.S. history.
I asked if she remembered where she was when John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Without skipping a beat, she said she was on a ferry, heading to Pine Island to see her parents.
Recently, my own children asked me where I was on 9/11 — September 11, 2001. I was driving to work on the beltline in Madison, Wis., listening to the radio and not understanding how a jet plane crashed into a building. I remember thinking, after getting caught up with morning meetings and looming deadlines, I’ll have to get on the internet to see what happened.
Shortly after I arrived to the office, it was what everyone was talking about. Meetings were postponed. Looming deadlines no longer mattered. We were all in shock and scared about the uncertainty of what was unfolding.
I remember going home that night, glued to my television, watching the horrific scene and listening to the heroic actions. I called my mother and cried. I never felt more alone and more certain of what mattered in life. I drove down to see Scott and hugged him tightly. Suddenly, all that really mattered was the simple things in life: my strong belief in a higher power, my family, and my friends.
However, life still had to go on. I remember driving to a farm in Iowa to do a story shortly after 9/11, and I smiled for the first time in weeks.
The countryside screamed patriotism, as Americans flew the flag with pride, yellow ribbons were tied to trees, and some barns were painted with patriotic messages. Signs were posted on town gas stations. People were friendly, holding doors open for strangers and saying hello. It was a time that my generation has never experienced, and a time that through so much uncertainty and despair, we were coming together as Americans.
Now 17 years later, I don’t feel that we are connected like we were back then. The nation is divided both politically and socially. Since 9/11, many Americans have been searching, trying to live the American Dream.
Is the American Dream still attainable? I like to think so. I don’t think living the American Dream means living in a big house, with things I cannot afford. To me, the American Dream means an opportunity to achieve success through hard work, determination, and initiative.
We are all Americans. We all felt the same loss on 9/11. Through the most uncertain of times that our country faced, a patchwork of Americans from all backgrounds, from both political sides, farmers, and those that lived in big cities, came together to help repair an America that was broken.
9/11 is a scar that reminds us of the disparity and heartache of what our country went through. 9/11 taught us about longing and living. It made us both resilient and vulnerable.
I feel we dairy farmers have a lot to reflect on. I remember far more than the drive to work that September day. It was a beautiful fall day in Madison, and I remember feeling both happy and hopeful, and then soon after I felt lost and had incredible sadness. 9/11 is a permanent mark, dividing the before and after. The before is when busy schedules and living in the rat race prevailed. The after is when all I clung to was the love of my family and friends.
The dairy industry is hurting. This isn’t headline news. You all face it every single day and feel it in your pocketbook, in your hearts, and in your minds. As we approach the anniversary of 9/11, I hope that we all can pause and reflect on what really is important in our lives. Sometimes moving forward means you move backwards a few steps to redirect and continue on.
9/11 strengthened us and softened us simultaneously. We became more appreciative of life and the beauty our world offers. But, what has happened since then. How did this fade?
How can we get the balanced lifestyle and the unity of our nation together? I think the answer starts at home, on dairy farms from coast to coast. We start by stopping for lunch, even if that means eating on the tailgate or inviting the sales rep in for a sandwich.
I think it means sitting in a different pew at church and extending our hand for introduction to someone we don’t know. I think it’s hosting an employee appreciation luncheon. I think it’s helping your neighbor who is struggling, even if it’s simply stopping by with iced tea and a listening ear.
I think it’s taking two steps back this 9/11 anniversary and revisiting our priorities, and living a life that we want our children to mimic.
Around the Kitchen Table is a regular column in Hoard's Dairyman. The author and her husband work in partnership with family on a 500-cow dairy in East Moline, Ill.
