Ten Years Ago.

Ten years. I can hardly believe that it has been ten years. That day is so firmly entrenched in memory, in excruciating detail, that it's almost impossible to think that a decade has passed.

It's hard for me to think about today's anniversary. Every year is difficult, but the "10 Years" label has been especially poignant. Part of it is the realization that my children will never know the innocence of the pre-9/11 world. Part of it is knowing that there are still those out there that wish to harm our country. Most of it is inexplicable. The anniversary brings out its usual swirl of emotions; they are all just particularly sharp today.

I haven't watched any of the documentaries or specials about the anniversary of the attacks. I haven't wanted to. I can't. But today, as part of my reflection and my healing process, I plan to watch one with my children. Up until now, I have never spoken to them about it. I know it's an important historical event, but I have wanted to shield them from it. I never wanted them to come away from a conversation about it feeling unsafe. But I think it's time.

I think it's time for them to hear about the heroes in the New York Police Department and Fire Department. It's time for them to learn about the brave men and women on Flight 93, who probably saved their mother's life. It's time for them to learn about the feeling our country had in the days and weeks following the attacks - a time of togetherness, cooperation, and spirit that I never thought I'd see.

I hope that passing along my memory of September 11, 2001 to my children will bring about some understanding for them, and a degree of closure for me. I want this day to not only be about mourning lives lost. Today is a day to celebrate heroism and be proud to be an American.

For my account of the events that took place on that Tuesday, click here.

They're Coming to America!

By now, everyone has heard that Manchester United will be doing a pre-season summer tour in the United States of America, July 13-30. Similarly, I'm sure everyone has heard by now my squeals of excitement and pure joy!

This summer, United will be visiting Boston, Seattle, Chicago, New York, and Washington, DC. We plan on seeing our beloved club in New York, where they will be taking on the MLS All-Stars, and we are taking the boys to the match in Washington, DC. The match in DC will truly be an experience of a lifetime for all of us. Manchester United will be taking on the famed football club from Spain - FC Barcelona.

Red Bull Arena, actually in New Jersey, is the aptly-named home of the New York Red Bulls of the MLS. My husband and I will be attending this match on our own. It's kind of a foregone conclusion that David Beckham will chosen as an MLS All-Star. It will be very interesting to see him playing against his boyhood and former team! (He didn't play for the All-Stars during last summer's tour due to an Achilles injury.) Like our trip to Manchester earlier this year, it will be an amazing trip for my husband and me. Doing what we love the most - watching United - together. The red of United is all the romance we need in this marriage!

Almost everything I've read about the United match versus Barcelona has used the adjective "mouth-watering." And it most certainly is. These two powerhouse football clubs are arguably the most famous and successful teams in the entire world. They have played each other before, sure, and will (hopefully) be meeting again in the final of the Champions League in Wembley. But we in America have never been witness to the meeting of two football giants such as this. For our sons, attending this match (even at such a young age) is something that they will always remember. An experience that will never be matched -- until they get to Old Trafford, that is.

Roll on, Summer 2011!

Arthritis, Schmarthritis!

The other week, I received two e-mails from different friends about arthritis. A friend's friend's daughter was diagnosed with the illness. A high school classmate was diagnosed. And they both got in contact with me to talk about it. I feel truly honored that they would want to share their diagnosis and feelings about it with me. I am no expert by any means, but I have been battling this disease for almost 20 years now, and it makes me so happy share some of the many lessons I've learned from it with other people in similar situations.

In 1990, I was a senior in high school. I was a cheerleader, had a fabulous group of friends and a great boyfriend. I was headed to the University of Delaware the following year, and you couldn't find a happier, more outgoing teenager than I was. The world was my oyster.

In the fall of that year, though, small things started happening with my body. I woke up one morning and couldn't straighten my elbow all the way out. On a vacation to Walt Disney World with my family, my hip gave out and was too sore to walk on. Eventually, all of the annoyances piled up, and even I had to admit there was something going on with me. I went to see so many doctors and had so many tests done! I saw an orthopedist, an orthopedic surgeon, was tested for Lyme disease...I even went to Childrens' Hospital in Washington, DC to have their specialists try and figure me out. In the end, I was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid/Osteaoarthritis.

The blow was devastating. There was no cure. I was going to have to live with this pain for the rest of my life. I was set to go to college, something I had been looking forward to for years. How could I walk across the campus if I could barely move? Why would anyone want to be friends with me and my stupid swollen joints? There was no more cheerleading, of course. I'd be lucky to walk across the stage unassisted at graduation. My boyfriend was 18 - how would he deal with a girlfriend who'd gone from a partying captain of the cheerleading squad to a fragile teenager in the body of an 80 year old -- all in the space of a few months? And the meds to keep me somewhat mobile - I couldn't drink alcohol on them. So fraternity parties were pretty much out the window, too. I was heartbroken and I grieved for what I was losing.

Flash forward 20 years. I have all the the things I never thought I would: a wonderful husband, two fantastic sons, an incredible experience working on Capitol Hill. And I kinda think, without the arthritis, I wouldn't have any of it. Having arthritis ended up giving me so much more than I ever lost:

• Acceptance. When I was first diagnosed, I was so afraid of being 'different.' When you're a teenager, and especially when going off to college, you desperately want to fit in, and be like everyone else. I didn't want to talk to anyone in the same situation as me, because they weren't like me. I was normal, they were not. Through my 20 year journey, I learned to accept not only my own situation, but also to accept that everyone has something that makes them different -- and special.
• Determination. Although I came to realize and live with what my life circumstances had become, I had so many things I was looking forward to doing, and through sheer power of will, I did them all. I was determined to have the full college experience, and through working with my rheumatologist, we found the right medications that allowed me to lessen the pain considerably. I joined a sorority, lived with roommates, attended parties and graduated on time. I was determined to fulfill my dream of working in the United States Congress and I did. I was determined to have a family, and I did.
• Patience. This might be the number one lesson I have learned through all of this. Nothing in life is quick or easy. Nothing worth having anyway. It's tougher for me to do anything, even open jars sometimes. I have had to become an exercise fanatic to keep my joints mobile. But, I know if I work hard and I am patient, I can accomplish anything anyone else can, even if it takes me a bit longer. This lesson has been extraordinarily valuable in all facets of my life - in the workplace, in my marriage, and especially when raising two crazy little boys!
• Understanding. When I was diagnosed, my boyfriend, whom I thought was the love of my life, broke up with me. I was inconsolable, and I bemoaned his selfish, shallow behavior. I couldn't grasp why he couldn't help as I was going through all of this. As I got older, I started to understand a bit better. He was 18 years old. He was just starting his own life. Of course he was a bit selfish. He was just a kid. It was scary and overwhelming and of course he had to split. I wished I could! I guess this goes along with learning acceptance. In life, you have to put yourself in others' shoes, not only to empathize with their perspective, but also to shed light on your own situation.
• Optimism. At the time of my diagnosis, I truly thought my life was over. Nothing in my future was going to be what I'd envisioned. I was in the darkest of places, and I couldn't see any way out. But life kept coming in spite of me, and I had to face it. I could either let this dastardly disease beat me, or I could show it who was boss. Nothing has ever been the same since I heard the word "arthritis," but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. My attitude since then is one of hope and sunny days ahead. No one ever got anywhere always anticipating the worst, and being frightened of what the future holds.
  

I would never go as far as to say that I'm glad I got arthritis. It's a terrible disease and I hate it. But, I have to respect it. I found medications that let me live my life relatively pain-free, and thanks to the exercise, I'm in the best shape I can be in. I have learned some incredibly important things from this disease that I might not have otherwise. I've determined that arthritis is what I have and not who I am, and I can recognize it as much a part of me as my blond hair. But make no mistake -- I am in charge. I did (and do!) what I want to do, and arthritis be damned. Arthritis, schmarthritis!

We Will Never Forget. September 11, 2001

Where were you nine years ago today? Take some time today to reflect and remember those brave and innocent Americans who were affected by the tragedies of September 11, 2001.

Nine years ago today, I was working as a legislative aide for a United States Senator. I was driving to work, and the only thing that seemed out of the ordinary was the weather. That particular Tuesday was absolutely gorgeous. The sun was shining grandly, but it wasn’t too hot. It was a positively glorious autumn morning.

I pulled into the parking lot of the Senate Office Building where I worked, and I heard on the news radio station I was listening to in the car that someone had flown a plane in to one of the towers of the World Trade Center. I simply thought, “Some idiot with a Cessna who doesn’t know what they’re doing. I hope not too many people are hurt.”

I walked into my office, and turn on the television. All legislative staff in the Senate offices have their own TVs to keep an eye on proceedings on the Senate floor. Everyone watched as the second plane flew directly into the South Tower at 9:03 a.m.

No one knew what was going on. Everyone was panicking on the inside, but we were all trying to keep it together on the outside. Our supervisor called us into the conference room for our normal morning staff meeting. She said, “I know everyone is upset and confused. But we need to stay focused.” As our Senator was on the Armed Services Committee, we had a National Security team, comprised of three staffers. She said that those three could watch the developments on the news, but the rest of us had to watch the floor, as per usual. Especially me, as the Senators were debating an Appropriations bill for the Commerce, Justice and State Departments, which I was covering.

After the meeting, we returned to our offices. At 9:37, as I was diligently watching the floor business, all the Senators and staff vacated the Senate floor. We heard that a plane had crashed into the Pentagon. My Chief of Staff came in to my office and said, “Get out NOW. The Senator wants everyone OUT.” I protested, “What about the CJS Approps bill!??” Looking back now, that was incredibly silly, but we were all losing it at that point.

What we didn’t know then was that Flight 93 had already been hijacked, reversed course, and was barreling its way back to Washington, DC with the United States Capitol as it's intended target.

I quickly dialed my husband, who had worked a late shift the night prior and was sleeping. “We’re under attack.” I told him, and the line went dead.

Luckily, our Senator had the foresight to evacuate us before the formal evacuation orders came from Capitol Police. Because of that, those of us that lived outside of DC were able to leave the city before they started closing roads down.

I got to my car, and tried to call my husband again on my cell phone. It took me a few tries, but I got through to him. I told him what was going on, and that I was coming home. By this time, he knew what was going on because he’d seen the news. While I was talking to him, there was a loud BOOM! I said, “What was that??” And my cell phone went dead. They had closed down the cell towers in the city. My poor husband didn’t hear from me again for another two hours, and he didn’t know what was happening or if I was okay. We never did find out what that noise was…the fighter jets scrambling, an explosion at the Pentagon, who knows…

During my interminable ride home, the radio was crazed with rumors. There was a car bomb at the State Department; the White House was under attack, etc. I also heard as the Towers of the World Trade Center fell to the ground. And when Flight 93 crashed in Pennsylvania. When I finally made it home, my husband hugged me and left…the city’s entire police department had been called in.

I sat glued to the television for the next eight or so hours. There were many times I felt I couldn’t breathe. It was all so surreal, so impossibly frightening. Silly as it sounds, I kept thinking back to the ‘80s movie “Red Dawn.” It was so implausible because no one could ever touch us, as we were safely entrenched behind American borders. And yet, here this all was happening to us. It was like a nightmare.

Needless to say, it was a day that will live forever in the hearts and minds of everyone who was touched by September 11^th in any way. And today, we take time to remember all of those who were lost in those cowardly, horrific attacks on our beloved country. I also like to think that they are looking down on us, proud of how our nation kept moving. Proud of how determined we were and still are to not let them break us. Proud of how we all stood together and proclaimed our love for this great American nation. Proud of how we vowed to never forget.