This is part two of the story of Thanksgiving week 2025, when I tried to give my sister Carol time off to visit family in Texas. Things did not go well.

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to Episode 121 of Contemplating Life.

This is part two of the story of Thanksgiving week 2025, when I tried to give my sister Carol time off to visit family in Texas. Things did not go well.

As we left off in the previous episode, Thanksgiving evening, I was settled in bed and on my ventilator around 10 PM at the Greenwood Healthcare Center. I requested that the respiratory therapist get me off the ventilator at about 6 AM. At the time, I was unaware that this was a shift change, but it turns out that was irrelevant. As a result of the tension and anxiety I was feeling over the day’s events, I was only able to get about two hours’ sleep. When the RT checked on me around 3 AM, I requested to be removed from the ventilator because I knew I wasn’t going to get any more sleep.

It wasn’t just the stress of the day’s events. I was seriously worried about my aide, Kiara. I’ve explained the bond we share. Given her baby daddy’s violent nature, anything could have happened to her. Also, I knew that she had occasionally struggled with her mental health. Worrying about her for the next few days was the worst part of the entire experience. It also didn’t help that another resident across the hall had the TV on at a high volume for most of the night.

There was a minor problem getting me off the ventilator. While on the ventilator, I can’t talk. I prearranged my usual method of signaling. Because I can’t nod my head, when I want to indicate “yes,” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down vertically. To indicate “no,” I twitch my mouth side to side. I’ve discovered that even someone who doesn’t know in advance that this is my method of communication can easily deduce my intent. Other systems, such as blinking once for yes and twice for no, require you to know the system in advance.

Anyway… While on the ventilator, there is a balloon cuff in my trach tube. When inflated, it prevents the air pressure from the vent from coming back out of my nose and mouth. The procedure for removing me from the ventilator is to disconnect the hose, deflate the balloon completely with a syringe, and then insert a speaking valve cap into the trach so I can speak.

My RT for the evening was a nice woman named Elizabeth. At 3 AM, when I signaled to her that I wanted to get off the vent, she removed the vent hose, inserted the cap, and then deflated the balloon. I shook no and had a look of extreme discomfort on my face because I was unable to breathe. She instantly said, “I’m getting the balloon.” And in just a couple of seconds, the situation was remedied.

I explained to her that she should fully deflate the balloon BEFORE inserting the cap because I’m unable to breathe with the balloon inflated and the cap inserted. I explained to her I was especially sensitive to this situation because a year ago, in May, I was in Methodist Hospital, and an incompetent nurse inserted my cap without deflating the balloon. I was completely unable to breathe for about 30 seconds. That incompetent nurse was unaware she had done anything wrong. At least Elizabeth knew what she was doing. She just did things in the wrong order. While I was never in any danger from her, it was quite disturbing. The mistake she made, however brief, is something that a properly trained RT would never do.

With so little sleep, I decided to cancel my other aide, Shatoya, from getting me up, and decided to stay in bed. I’m able to take brief naps without needing the ventilator, and I did so.

One of the other tasks that the RTs perform is to suction my trach with a catheter. The procedure is that you remove my speaking valve, insert the catheter deeply into the trach, and then place your finger over the hole to initiate suction. On two different occasions, my RTs put their fingers over the opening, so it was sucking as it went in and out. This is against the proper procedure. I explained to them that if you have the suction on while you are going in, it tends to cause your airway to collapse, making it difficult to insert the catheter. It also makes it hard to breathe during the process. Once I explained this, they did it quite well using the proper method. Again, this is something a properly trained respiratory therapist should know.

Anyway, after getting off the ventilator at 3 AM Friday morning, the staff continued to check on me until around 6 AM when the shift changed.

Then I did not see anyone for the next three hours. As the day staff eventually came by, I asked them if they had been briefed on my inability to use the call button. None of them knew anything about me. They had no idea about the call button situation. They did not know I was temporary. They were completely clueless about any aspect of my care.

All that would have been necessary would have been for the Thursday night staff (RN, RT, and CNA) to say to their Friday morning counterparts, “We have a new patient, Mr. Young, in 230. He is here for a few days of respite care. He’s unable to use the nurse call, so please check in with him periodically. Perhaps drop by as soon as you can to introduce yourself.” I don’t think it was unreasonable for me to expect that kind of continuity of care and reasonable communication between shifts. I was very disappointed that it did not occur.

If the staff is busy with other patients, I don’t mind waiting three hours without contact, as long as I don’t have an emergency. But when I’m ignored due to poor communication, it is troubling. I was well pleased with the day staff on Friday, and they were apologetic for not being briefed on my situation.

I asked if there was a supervisor I could speak to about my concerns. They said I needed to talk to Amanda, who was the unit chief. I asked if she could drop by at her convenience. When she did, I explained my concerns about the lack of communication between shifts and about the improper procedures for removing me from the ventilator. She was quite considerate and attentive to my concerns. On Friday night, I spoke with some of the staff and reminded them to please brief the night shift on my situation. They replied, “We will. Amanda told us all about it.” I was well pleased at the way it was addressed.

Friday evening, I asked my RT what time the shift change was. She said 6 AM. I specifically requested that she get me off the ventilator before the shift change.

I slept well Friday night, and when I woke up, the Saturday day shift RT was there. She took me off the ventilator but could not find the cap for my trach. This is precisely why I wanted to be off the vent BEFORE shift change. Admittedly, I didn’t say why it was important to me to be off vent before shift change, but I didn’t think I needed to explain my every request. The Saturday morning RT eventually found the speaking valve and put it on the trach.

I asked her if she had been briefed about my care. She had not. Neither had my CNA. I asked whether Amanda was on duty again and, if not, who was in charge. She said, “You are lucky. Your nurse, Becky, is the supervisor today.”

When Becky arrived to do my morning G-tube feeding and my morning medications, I began to address my concerns to her. I believe she has a rather severe case of ADHD or something. She would constantly interrupt me with questions unrelated to what we were discussing. On multiple occasions, I had to start the sentence over again and try to keep the conversation on track. These were not questions that needed immediate answers. She was inquiring about my home life, which I would be happy to discuss with her at length, but not while I was trying to explain to her how her staff was failing me. It left me with the impression that she was totally unconcerned with my issues.

As we moved on to my morning feeding and medications, she said she was getting them from the pharmacy. I told her I brought my medication from home and that she didn’t need to get it from the pharmacy. She insisted the doctor had ordered the medications from the pharmacy. I was confident she hadn’t received orders from my doctor, and I didn’t know whether they had a physician on staff.

I attempted to say, “Don’t crush my pills to put them in the G-tube until I can look at your packaging and know that I’m getting the right stuff.” When I said, “Don’t crush my pills…” She quickly interrupted me and said, “I have to crush them, will or they won’t go in your G-tube.” I paused a second and said, “Let me finish my sentence. Don’t crush my pills to put them in the G-tube until I can look at your packaging and know that I’m getting the right stuff.” She excused herself to do something else and said she would be right back.

When she returned, she said, “Those pills from the pharmacy were not for you. We will use the pills you brought from home.” I was appalled. It gave me cause to wonder if I had not insisted on verifying the proper medication, she might have given me someone else’s pills.

She then prepared my formula for my G-tube feeding. She never asked me how much formula I should get. Before I knew what she was doing, she had poured a quantity of formula into a container and diluted it with water. When I complained, she said, “But you are supposed to get water with it.”

I replied: “Yes. The pills get mixed with water. And we use plain water at the end to flush everything out. I measure my formula using four syringes, each 60 mL. Now that she had diluted it, there was no way to know exactly how much I was getting.”

When I explained this, she said, “Don’t you get a full carton?”

I replied, “No, actually, 240 mL comes out to one full carton plus about a fourth of another carton.” Although I had given them a list of my medications and formula requirements to put in my file, she apparently had not read it, nor did she ask me what I was supposed to get. We emptied the remaining contents of the first carton into the diluted mixture, then gave me a portion from another carton. I’m not certain the first carton was full, but it was close enough.

When we were all finished, she said, “I guess I’d better start listening to you, shouldn’t I?” I am uncertain how successful I was at suppressing my sarcasm when I simply said, “Yes.”

About noon on Saturday, Nurse Becky returned to give me my “lunch.” I explained to her that I did not get my next feeding or medications until around 4 PM. I told her that I informed the staff when I came in that my first feeding and medications could be at any time convenient in the morning. Then sometime around 4 PM, plus or minus a reasonable amount. And then my final feeding and meds at around 9 PM, plus or minus some amount. On the first day, the staff said it would be no problem, and they followed my instructions the second day. She insisted that my chart said I should get my second round at noon. “Well, then your chart is wrong.” She reluctantly agreed to wait until 4 PM.

During my later feedings, we had the chance to chat and get to know each other. Despite my difficulties with Becky, she is a very friendly and personable individual. I began to tell her the story of why I was there. I explained that I had two home health aides lined up to take care of me, but on Wednesday morning, they got into a ridiculous argument. I was concerned it might turn violent, and I had no choice but to fire the aggressor.

We were alone in my room. There is no way anyone could have heard our conversation. However, she leaned forward and whispered to me, “Were they black?”

I could not have been more shocked or offended. I explained that the women involved grew up under difficult circumstances in a culture where you have to constantly defend yourself. I admitted, “Yes… They are black, but race had nothing to do with it.” Did she really think that if she whispered a racist comment, it was less racist? What made her think that I would not find such a comment offensive?

I think the most difficult part of my encounter with her was that throughout, she was extremely friendly, outgoing, and personable. Initially, it was difficult not to like her. I got over that quickly.

In my email to Ms. Webb, I said, “Far be it from me to question your hiring practices; however, I would think that someone in a supervisory position would need strong communication skills, especially listening skills. Had she not been the supervisor, I would’ve complained to her supervisor. I didn’t want to create a confrontation. Someone later suggested I should’ve asked to see the director of nursing. I had already decided to write you this email.”

The previous day, when I spoke to the other supervisor, Amanda, I took the opportunity to ask her about a bath. She said, “We do baths during the second shift on Monday and Thursday.” I explained I wasn’t talking about getting into a shower chair. I just wanted a bed bath. She paused a second and then said, “Yeah… We can do that.” Her tone implied that this was not the usual procedure. Maybe I misread her tone. I was too exhausted that day to do anything. I expected my aide, Shatoya, to be there on Saturday, and I told my Saturday-morning CNA that Shatoya was coming.

Saturday morning, Shatoya canceled. Something came up, and she was also quite concerned about the impending snowstorm. One could argue I had refused to have them bathe me, preferring to have my person do it. But during my entire stay, no one offered to even wipe my face. When I got on the bedpan, they cleaned me, but no other hygiene was offered to me during my entire stay. I admit, I did not push the issue, mostly because I wanted to see if they would raise it. They never did.

The facility is very noisy. More than one of my neighbors kept their TV on all hours of the day and night at a loud volume. One of them liked to bang on their table loudly to get the nurse’s attention.

I think it was Saturday afternoon when I overheard something disturbing. First, let me say that I get about 15-20 spam phone calls per day trying to get me to sign up for a new Medicare plan. They make it sound like they are calling from an official Medicare office, and they are trying to ensure that you get the best benefits you can get. One of my neighbors received such a phone call. He had it on speakerphone, and I could hear the caller quite clearly. I couldn’t consistently hear what the resident was saying.

A couple of years ago, I switched my Medicare plan. You talk to someone who is a broker. They collect your information. Then they transfer you to a salesperson who actually signs you up.

This guy was talking to a broker, but he didn’t realize who he was talking to. He gave him lots of personal information, including his Social Security number, phone number, address, and date of birth. It was everything a scammer could have used to steal his identity.

Fortunately, this seemed to be a legitimate broker. When he transferred the call to a salesperson, the resident realized they were trying to sell him new insurance and hung up. It’s no wonder that I get so many phone calls. I’m certain a significant percentage of people fall for it and get signed up for a different insurance plan, earning the broker a nice commission.

When I was taken off the ventilator Saturday morning, the RT turned off the power on both the ventilator and the humidifier. Typically, I don’t turn off the humidifier because it’s difficult to find the power button, so I just unplug it. But it was no big deal. If she found a button and turned it off, that would be okay. My RT Saturday night was Elizabeth, who had been my RT two nights earlier. When she put me on the vent, I warned her that the humidifier had been manually turned off and she would have to turn it back on. She, too, struggled to find the power button, and I could hear her pressing many different buttons. Eventually, she found the right one. She put me on the vent, and all was well for a time.

About 20 minutes later, an alarm began blaring from the humidifier. It is a distinctly different sound from the ventilator alarm. Although the humidifier failing was nothing critical, it would be impossible to sleep with the alarm blaring. Throughout my stay, I noticed I could hear other people’s ventilator alarms. It seemed to me that those alarms rang for an unusually long period of time before they were addressed.

I didn’t have access to a clock. It is my estimate that the humidifier alarm continued sounding for at least 45 minutes, perhaps an hour, before anyone came to investigate. Elizabeth showed up and began fiddling with the controls to try to correct the problem.

At first, it appeared she had mistaken it as a ventilator alarm rather than the humidifier alarm. The ventilators I had heard throughout the facility had the same distinct alarm as mine, and I would have thought she would recognize this was not a vent alarm.

I kept trying to get her attention, hoping she would take me off the vent, and I would try to assist her in diagnosing the problem or, failing that, instruct her to simply leave the humidifier turned off. She kept insisting she had to fix this and could not address my concerns. At one point, she said, “I will call your CNA after I fix this, and she can get whatever you need.” That would have been fruitless. While on the ventilator, I can’t talk, and I didn’t want my CNA. I wanted her. I had previously made it clear to all of the RTs and CNAs that if you can’t figure out what I want, get the RT to take me off the vent so I can talk.

Eventually, she relented and asked me, “Do you want off the vent?” I signaled “Yes” with my eyebrows, and she took me off the ventilator.

Throughout this process, I lost all confidence in her and, to some extent, the entire staff. A humidifier was not a critical issue. But they did not know it was a noncritical alarm. I asked myself, “What if this had been something critical?” I didn’t want to risk waiting an hour for someone to come and see what was wrong. I instructed her to shut everything off, and I would continue the rest of the evening without the ventilator. I can sleep without it. It’s difficult but not impossible. And I would not have any peace of mind being on the vent, given the lack of attention that had been paid to the alarm.

I try not to second-guess staff who prioritize other patients over me, but I would think that a ventilator alarm would move me up the list to be addressed expediently.

Somehow, I was able to get a reasonably good night’s sleep Saturday night without the ventilator.

Carol made it through the snowstorm Saturday night and returned from Texas. Shatoya came Sunday morning to get me bathed and dressed, and into my wheelchair. There was a problem. There was no hot water available. Maintenance was working on it. So, I wasn’t going to get a bath. Shatoya got me dressed, and with the help of one of the staff CNAs, they got me into the wheelchair using their lift seat.

I was unfamiliar with how it felt to hang in that seat. I thought they had me sitting in the chair okay. I told the CNA she could unhook the sling. When Shatoya tried to pull my hips back to get me sitting up straight, I realized I was sitting on the edge of my seat. Shatoya had to grab me by my pants belt to keep me from falling out of the chair while the CNA reconnected part of the sling.

Once I was securely in the chair, we had no difficulty removing the sling from under me, even though I was partially sitting on it. This confirmed my suspicion that we could have gotten the sling under me that first night.

When Shatoya put my remote control into the bracket on my wheelchair armrest, that’s when I discovered it wasn’t working because it was plugged into the wrong charger. My phone was working, and much to my surprise, I had a text message from Kiara.

She was texting me from her aunt’s phone. She had checked herself into a mental health unit of a hospital, but was doing okay. They wouldn’t give her her phone back.

I immediately broke down and began sobbing uncontrollably. Of all the turmoil I had been through, the worst part was worrying about her. Shatoya was there to dry my eyes and give me a hug. Once I got settled down, she helped me pack up some of my stuff. Then I told her she should go.

Carol had arrived home very late Saturday night, having driven all day. She also had to go to the grocery store before picking me up because there was no food in the house. Then she had to go to Kathy’s to get the van keys.

I hung out around the nurses’ station and a nearby lounge area, where I ran into a resident named Mark. He is a quadriplegic and said he had been there about a month. He was awaiting the completion of the construction of a new home that would be totally accessible. I gave him one of my cards with my podcast info and contact information. I never did hear from him.

Carol arrived about 5 PM. We loaded up everything, and when I got home, I went straight to bed.

On Monday, Kiara’s mom checked her out of the hospital. We reconnected on Facebook Messenger, and she asked, “Do I still have a job?” I told her she could start anytime she was ready. Shatoya got me up at home on Monday. Kiara returned to work on Tuesday, and we had a tearful reunion.

I began writing a long email to the admissions director, Amy Webb. I wrote all day Monday and sent it on Tuesday. I concluded with the following paragraphs.

“I’ve reflected on my experiences quite a bit since I got home. I don’t like complaining. But I felt compelled to give you this admittedly overly detailed account of my experiences. I thought about your residents who are incapable of expressing their concerns or complaints. I thought about people like Mark, who might be reluctant to complain because they were going to have to be in your facility for a considerable time. I was in a unique position where I could report this and not fear any backlash. So, not only for my own concerns should I ever need your facility again, but for those who cannot or would not complain. I felt compelled to share this feedback with you.

“I’m not coming at this from the idea of ‘I insist you fire these people or severely discipline them or whatever.’ That is for your HR department to decide what to do with this information. I’m not going to sue. I’m not going to tell you how to run your business. I won’t pretend to know that I appreciate the challenges you face in managing such a facility.

“I’m satisfied now that I’ve said my piece. Should I need your facility again, I will need strong assurances that such issues can be avoided.”

It turns out I did need their facility again in March 2026. Stay tuned for future episodes about that tale.

Kiara found a safe place to live temporarily. The people at the hospital helped her file a restraining order. Recently, she rented a new apartment. She will be working at a nursing facility for a shift that doesn’t interfere with her work with me.

I found out that T. delivered her baby by C-section on Friday. So, even if there hadn’t been the big blowup on Wednesday, Kiara would have had to take over on Friday anyway. Whether or not baby daddy would have ruined things is anybody’s guess.

Carol had a wonderful time on vacation. I kept trying to convince myself that everything I went through was worth it so that she could have a good time. In some respects, it was.

However, the long-term emotional scars I endured would take a long time to heal. To a certain extent, they still haven’t and may never.

In our next installment, I will discuss those issues and what happened next.

One more thought before we wrap this up. I’ve talked about the emotional impact this all had on me. However, I can’t begin to know everything that Kiara went through. The fact that she has come out from the other side of this terrible weekend and has put her life back together is a testament to what an amazing young lady she is. I am blessed to have her in my life as well as my sister Carol, my other aide Shatoya, nurse Tony, and my cousin Kathy. So, my deepest thanks to all my supporters, including them.

So, as always… if you find this podcast educational, entertaining, enlightening, or even inspiring, consider sponsoring me on Patreon for just $5 per month. You’ll get early access to the podcast and other exclusive content. I’m not in this for money, but every bit helps.

Even if you can’t provide financial support, please share the links to this podcast on social media so I can grow my audience. All of my back episodes are available, so check those out. If you have any comments, questions, or other feedback, please feel free to comment on any of the platforms where you found this podcast. I will see you next time as we continue contemplating life. Until then, fly safe, everyone.

This is a supplement to Episode 97. It is from a video of an encounter I had with Catholic theologian Dr. Ernie Collamati. It discusses how to deal with our conscience when it differs with the official teaching of the Catholic Church. Here’s that exchange.

This week we reflect on some of the major historical events that I witnessed in my 68 years on this planet. We especially talk about my recollections of 9/11 given that this episode will be released on that anniversary. Although I tried to keep this podcast in a listenable format, the YouTube version has lots of interesting images and video clips so you might want to check out the YouTube version instead of the cardioversion. Note there are brief images from 9/11 but none of them are explicit.

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to episode 33 of Contemplating Life.

A quick note to say there are lots of video clips in the YouTube version of today’s podcast so you may want to try the YouTube version. You can find links in the description of the video excerpted here as well as lots of Wikipedia links that will be of special interest.

After taking a couple of weeks off, it’s time to figuratively roll up my sleeves and get to writing again.

After spending over 15 weeks looking back on my life in school, it got me thinking about how much history I have witnessed in the past 68 years. I’ve lived through a lot of stuff. Recently, I was talking to one of my home health aides about this. She’s an African-American woman in her early 30s. Many of the things I was talking about were before she was born. I told her, “I’m really old. I’ve witnessed a lot of interesting events in my lifetime. I watched people walk on the moon live on TV.”

“Yeah, I guess you really are old if you remember seeing people walk on the moon. Next thing you’re going to be telling me you saw Martin Luther King walking around too.”

“Not in person. But I remember very well watching the news flash interrupt my TV show when he was killed. Bobby Kennedy too.”

“Holy shit I didn’t think you were that old!”

In her mind, MLK was ancient history. I said to her, “You can do the math, can’t you? I’m 68 years old. MLK was killed in 1968. I was 13 years old at the time.”

A couple of years ago when it was the 20th anniversary of 9/11 I had a home health aide who was only 19 years old. It freaked me out that 9/11 was before she was born. That really made me feel old.

I decided I would do a few episodes about some of the major historical events I’ve witnessed over my lifetime.

My mother was a very political person. She was a lifelong Democrat and a Roman Catholic so naturally, she was very excited when John F. Kennedy was running for president. I was in kindergarten at the time. My Aunt Jody took care of me on election day because Mom had volunteered to work at the polls. My aunt didn’t live far from my house and they rerouted the school bus a couple of blocks to pick me up at her place.

I could sense Mom’s enthusiasm for JFK as a candidate and really saw her joy when he was elected. She tried to explain to me that it was a big deal because we never had a Catholic president before. I asked why is it a big deal. She explained that a lot of people didn’t like Catholics. Fortunately, it was something I never experienced personally. I was aware that Catholics were somehow different from other Christians but it was more along the lines of, “That’s weird,” rather than “You are horrible for being Catholic.”

My mother watched the Today Show every morning. That brought me news of the first significant world event that I recall – the Cuban missile crisis. American spy planes had detected that Russian missiles capable of carrying nuclear warheads were being deployed in in Cuba just 90 miles from Florida. President Kennedy established a naval blockade around Cuba to prevent further Russian ships from delivering weapons. I could sense that my mother was deeply disturbed by the news. Many people were justifiably concerned that we were on the brink of a nuclear war.

I have very distinct memories of uttering the sentence, “What’s a ‘blockade’ mommy?” I once told that story to a friend at church who was my age. She said, “Yes I remember that distinctly as well. But we lived in Alaska. My parents were scared that if the missiles flew out of Cuba, the land invasion would be right on top of us.”

Ever since I was very young I’ve been fascinated by space travel. When I was telling stories about my kindergarten days, I forgot to mention that in my kindergarten class, we Had a TV in the classroom and watched Alan Shepard as he became the first American into space on his suborbital flight on May 5, 1961. My classmates were upset that it interrupted their favorite children’s show Captain Kangaroo. I thought they were all crazy. I liked Captain Kangaroo a lot but this was a guy sitting on top of a rocket going into outer space for the first time. That was way more cool.

The next big world event that I lived through with vivid memories is of course the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. I already told that story in Episode 16. I was eight years old in the third grade.

If you know any US history from that era, you know that 1968 was a huge year. As I previously mentioned, I was watching TV on April 4, 1968, when they announced that Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. Bobby Kennedy was in Indianapolis that night holding a political rally in a park when the news came down. He announced to a crowd of mostly black voters that MLK had been killed. He gave an amazing speech that night to keep the crowd calm. Here are some excerpts from what he said. you can see the entire speech in a YouTube video linked in the description.

[Insert video here]

They subsequently raised a monument on that spot to commemorate what he did. Indianapolis was one of the largest cities that did not have riots that evening in response to the MLK assassination. Portions of that speech also on the RFK Memorial in Wellington National Cemetery. Just 68 days after the MLK assassination Robert Kennedy was killed as well.

In August of that year, my family took our first out-of-state vacation. We went to Chicago and spent three days visiting museums. I’ve been back there on two other occasions and really love the city.

While we were there, protesters were already gathering in Grant Park in anticipation of the Democratic National Convention that was just a couple of weeks away. Weeks later I watched on TV in shock and horror at the chaos inside and outside the convention. Inside the convention, there were disagreements over alternative slates of delegates. As one rejected delegate was being thrown out of the venue, CBS reporter Dan Rather was roughed up by security guards as he tried to interview the man. Outside the convention, Mayor Richard Daley became fearful of threats made by the protesters and sent massive amounts of police and National Guard troops to break up the protests. Protesters were brutally beaten by police on national TV. On several occasions, I have jokingly quipped, “Yeah, I was in Chicago in ‘68. I’ll never forget the sites I saw. The Yippies gathering in Grant Park not knowing the fate that awaited them.” When I tell that story, I leave out the part that I was only 13 years old and was visiting museums with my mommy and daddy. I wasn’t exactly plugged into the Yippie scene at that young age.

While we were vacationing in Chicago, the Republican National Convention was going on in Miami. One evening we watched some of it on TV in the hotel room.

Indianapolis Mayor Richard Lugar gave an address at the convention. I remember that as the keynote address but my research says Ronald Reagan gave the official keynote. It was still a major speech that put him on the national stage. Referral at the convention, someone gave him the unfortunate title “Nixon’s Favorite Mayor.” Not that I want to have anything to do with but he was my favorite Mayor and US Sen. as well. Lugar was one of the few Republicans I’ve ever voted for. When he was mayor, he established something called the Mayor’s Advisory Committee on the Handicapped and was a staunch advocate for a variety of disability issues both as mayor and later as US Senator. I heard him speak on campus at IUPUI one time and he was amazing. I had great respect for the man. He not only fought for Indiana issues, but he was also famous for the Nunn-Lugar Act on the disarmament of nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons.

In 2012 he faced a serious primary challenge from radical conservative “TEA Party” candidate Richard Mourdock. Mourdock held bizarre views such as the idea that if a woman was raped and conceived a child, it was God’s will. I crossed over and voted in the Republican primary that year to try to help Lugar stay in office. Unfortunately, Mourdock defeated Luger in the Republican primary. Democrat Joe Donnelly won the general election despite the fact that Indiana is a mostly red state.

Lugar never held political office again. He died in April 2019.

Anyway… Back to 1968 again.

The highlight of 1968 for me and for many people was the mission of Apollo 8. Astronauts Frank Borman, Jim Lovell, and William Anders, circled the moon in December 1968. It was the furthest that human beings had ever traveled from Earth at the time. In a live television broadcast on Christmas Eve, they read verses from the book of Genesis about the creation of the Earth and then wished everyone Merry Christmas back on the Good Earth.

When they returned, they released a very famous photo called “Earthrise” showing the distant earth rising above the horizon of the moon. Seeing the Earth from that perspective created a lot of healing at the end of that troubled year that saw the Vietnam War, peace protests met with violence, and the assassination of two major political leaders who were men of peace.

* * *

Rather than go through a continued chronological telling of my recollections of major world events, we’re going to skip ahead to September 11, 2001. This episode will premiere on September 11 (although Patreon subscribers will get it a week early).

In those days, I typically didn’t get out of bed until around 10:30 or 11:00 AM. My mother, as she had done since I was a child, was watching the Today Show that morning. She came in and woke me up saying, “An airplane has hit the World Trade Center. Do you want to turn on the Today Show?”

I told her, “Wow! I remember hearing that back in the 1940s.a military plane crashed into the Empire State Building on a foggy night.”

I turned on the TV mounted on the wall over my bed and was surprised to see a clear, bright, sunshiny day in New York City. Whatever caused this, it wasn’t fog or visibility problems. They were saying that it was a “commuter plane.” Having never flown before, my image of a “commuter plane” was perhaps a twin-engine propeller aircraft holding perhaps 12-15 people. I certainly wasn’t thinking of a 767.

Along with millions of other people around the world, I watched live as the second plane hit the South Tower. It amazed me that it disappeared into the building and nothing but flame and debris exited the opposite side. Along with everyone else, I came to the realization that this was no accident.

I sat through the endless replays of the event. Some of the cameras broadcasting the scene were tilted very slightly and at several points, Mom and I thought it looked as though one or both of the World Trade Center buildings was going to fall over sideways. In retrospect, I should’ve known it wouldn’t happen that way.

My next recollection was NBC Pentagon correspondent Jim Miklaszewski was put on the air live from the Pentagon. Here is part of his report.

[Insert Video here]

A few minutes later, he returned to the air to confirm that he had spoken to a high-ranking military man (I think it was a general but I’m not sure). He reported that a plane had crashed into the Pentagon near the helicopter landing area.

I don’t recall the exact sequence of events and I’m not going to bother researching just to tell the story but we eventually learned of the fourth plane crashing in Shanksville Pennsylvania.

The thought that was going to everyone’s head at this point was, “How big is this? How many other crashes will we have?” It was no longer isolated to New York City.

I think it was the next day or soon after I spoke to my friend Judy who had been working in a tall office building in downtown Indianapolis. She said they evacuated the building and sent everyone home.

I distinctly remember the speeches that President Bush gave at a school in Florida that morning as the attacks occurred, at a military base where Air Force One stopped off briefly, and then again at the White House later that evening. I was shocked when I heard that the FAA was shutting down the entire US airspace.

My next recollection from 9/11 was when CNBC correspondent Ron Insana joined the coverage in the studio. In those days, I was a regular viewer of the CNBC business channel because I had about $2000 invested in the stock market and he was one of my favorite correspondents.

He appeared in their New York studios covered in gray dust. It was all over his bald head and the shoulders of his dark gray suit. He told the harrowing story of being near the scene when the first tower collapsed. A giant wave of gray dust rolled down the street. He and an MSNBC cameraman ducked inside a parked car as the sky turned black around them. When it turned into gray dust, they exited the car and a police car picked them up and drove them out of the area only stopping to pick up some injured people and take them to a hospital.

That’s when I burst into tears and began sobbing uncontrollably. Someone who I felt like I knew personally from watching him on TV every day… someone who I admired… someone who was baldheaded wore glasses and was an intellectual like me… they had nearly died. And somehow it all became very real at that instant.

When I saw the footage of the towers collapsing, I felt like slapping my forehead and saying, “Of course, that’s how it looks when a building collapses. Hollywood has it wrong almost every time.” You’ve seen the scenes in post-apocalyptic movies where they show devastated cityscapes. Invariably there will be at least one skyscraper tilted over leaning against another one at least a 30° angle or more. Buildings just aren’t strong enough to stay intact if they ever did fall sideways like that.

Movie special-effects people also never show the vast clouds of dust like we saw during the collapse of the World Trade Center. You would think they would know better because of all the footage we have of controlled demolitions. Those demolitions always create vast clouds of dust that roll down connecting streets for blocks just like we saw from the WTC collapse.

I’ve seen several documentaries about taking down buildings using controlled demolitions. When they blow out the foundation, the entire building starts moving straight down. Once it is in motion, the momentum of all that weight moving, causes the floors to pancake upon one another.

The towers of the World Trade Center were weakened by the burning jet fuel about two-thirds and three-fourths of the way up. Once those gave way, the floors above started moving downwards. That momentum carried through till there was nothing but a pile of rubble. There was a slight twist to the upper floors as one of the towers collapsed but for the most part, it went straight down with the debris cascading out the sides like a gray waterfall.

I imagined Hollywood special effects crews watching the scene and thinking, “We are going to have to come up with new ways to depict buildings collapsing in apocalyptic films.”

That probably seems horribly cold and detached. Over a thousand people were dying in those buildings at that instant and all I could think of was how it would be depicted in movies. I think it’s because, at that moment, I couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea that so many people were dying before my eyes.

To this day, the most haunting thing about those images is the knowledge that there were people in wheelchairs stranded in those buildings. Disabled occupants were told that the standard procedure in case of emergency was to make their way to one of the mid-level lobby floors and shelter in place until they could be rescued. A story emerged post-9/11 of a man who died because he stayed behind to sit with his disabled friend in a power wheelchair who could not get down the stairways. I could imagine a number of my friends possibly doing that for me. It makes me feel blessed and revulsed at the same time.

When I was attending IUPUI at the 38th St. campus, the elevator went out in the Krannert Building one day. A couple of my friends had to carry me in my wheelchair down two and a half flights of stairs. Another time I was visiting my friend Judy at her job at the Church Federation when the elevator went out. The janitors cured me down one flight. I could never work or study on a regular basis in any building any taller than a couple of stories.

My house is located near one of the approach flight paths to Indianapolis International Airport. The planes don’t fly directly over my house but we see them as they come from the Northwest to the southeast, turn due South over Speedway, and then head towards the airport. For three days, only military and police aircraft were allowed to fly over the US. When the planes returned to the skies, it seemed eerie to hear them again flying near my home.

Two days later, it was my job to teach a class for Catholic converts at Saint Gabriel Church. I set aside my regular curriculum for half of the class. I did some research by going to the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Part of it is organized around the Ten Commandments. I looked under the Fifth Commandment “You shall not kill.”

Among the pertinent topics it discussed was suicide since obviously, this was a suicide mission by the hijackers. It explained that while it might be noble to sacrifice your life in battle, there was a difference between being a casualty of war and going on a deliberate suicide mission. The church of course is completely opposed to suicide.

It also talks about our obligation to constantly work for peace but recognizes that under particular circumstances, participation in war can be justified. Here are a few interesting paragraphs from the Catechism.

In other words, governments have the right to defend their country because we don’t have a global police force.

I always felt that the first Gulf War Where Iraq invaded Kuwait was a reasonably good example of those conditions. Bush 41 tried every means of diplomacy available, put together a broad international coalition, and only attacked when all else said failed. I think that the defense of Ukraine also falls into that category. You had one country illegitimately invading another and Ukraine has every right to self-defense and the support of other nations in that effort.

Anyway, discussing these topics was very difficult to do just two days after 9/11 but I felt we had to do it given the circumstance.

On September 30, 2001, they held the US Formula 1 Grand Prix at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway less than a mile from my house. It was the first major international sporting event after 9/11. People were very worried something might happen but fortunately, it did not. The Indianapolis 500 held each May is the largest single-day spectator sporting event in the world and could be a prime target for terrorist activity but fortunately, we have been spared.

I apologize that this episode is already longer than usual. I think is instructive to look back on history and see the ways that things either have changed or failed to change. As I mentioned before, I’m an aspiring science fiction writer, and often sci-fi tells time travel stories about people who want to change history. Next week I will give you an outline of my little fantasy story of how I would change history if I could. It’s a story that’s been brewing in my mind for many years. I’m going to tell you how that story would have unfolded and why recent events have made that story impossible at least the way I wanted to tell it originally.

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