We never know how high we are
Till we are called to rise;
And then, if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the skies—
Emily Dickinson
"Ok, there's a group of us and we're going to do something."
Tom Burnett
On September 11th, 2001, four passenger airplanes were hijacked and pointed at landmarks inside the United States. Three of them hit their intended targets.
One did not.
At 10:03 a.m., United Flight 93 streaked out of the sky, wings waggling frantically, and plowed into a reclaimed strip mine just outside Shanksville, Pennsylvania at 580 mph.
Thirty-three passengers and at least 4 crew members had rushed the cockpit and overwhelmed the hijackers, forcing them to crash the plane and denying them their prize.
The passengers were the definition of ordinary: students, grandmothers, business men and women, retirees. They used what weapons came to hand: boiling water from the galley, a food cart intended for delivering in-flight meals.
Before their assault, they placed dozens of calls to friends and family on the ground.
"We can't wait for the authorities," Tom Burnett told his wife. "We have to do something now."
The trapped passengers took a vote. Then they stormed up the aisle to the cockpit, forcing the hijackers to abandon their target and ram the plane into the ground.
Everyone on board was killed, and an untold number of people on the ground were spared.
It didn't really happen that way, says a growing chorus of cynics. The government had that plane shot down. With fighter jets. Seriously. I know this guy, he's a pilot, and he says that passenger revolt stuff is just a fairy tale. It could never bring a plane down.
Really? Well, I like fairy tales. Let me tell you another:
On February 28, 2010, a deranged man deliberately flew a Piper airplane into the Echelon Building in Austin, Texas, with the intent of killing IRS personnel.
A glass worker named Robin Dehaven was driving to work when he saw the Piper zoom out of sight over a hill. When he saw a plume of smoke, Mr. Dehaven, a former combat engineer in the U.S. army, immediately turned his truck in the direction of what he thought was a plane crash. He followed the smoke to the Echelon parking lot, where he saw sheets of flame and clouds of smoke engulfing the upper floors of the building.
A stranger- to this day unidentified- approached Mr. Dehaven's truck and said rescuers needed his work ladder; people were trapped on the second floor. Mr. Dehaven immediately leapt out of the truck grabbed the ladder. He saw the trapped workers- 4 men and a woman- near a broken window. Mr. Dehaven climbed up the ladder and into the burning building, only to discover that the position of the ladder was too unstable for an escape. Still inside the smoke-filled office, he led the group to a better spot, then stood on an outside ledge to guide the panicked employees down the stabilized ladder.
"I don't know who you are, but thank you," said one of the rescued men.
No fighter jets were reported at the scene.
There were none reported here, either:
At 10:32 a.m. on December 12, 2008, the Wells Fargo Bank in Woodburn, Oregon, received a phone call. Get out of the building, said a voice, or you'll all die. A bank employee called the police. Police officers, FBI agents and members of the Oregon State Police Bomb squad responded. A device was found, but deemed harmless. Then it was discovered that the West Coast Bank, less than 150 feet away on one of Woodburn's busiest streets, had also received a threatening call. Another device was found in the bushes outside the bank. Bomb technicians x-rayed the device outside. It too appeared harmless and they took it inside the nearly-evacuated West Coast Bank. (Two employees had not yet left the building.)
At 5:24 p.m., the second device exploded. Captain Tom Tennant of the Woodburn Police and Senior Trooper William Hakim of the Oregon State Police were killed instantly. Woodburn Police Chief Scott Russell was critically injured; the blast shattered his jaw and he would endure multiple surgeries, including the amputation of his right leg.
Woodburn is a farming community barely 5 miles square. In 2008 over 17% of its 23,355 citizens lived below the poverty line.
The West Coast Bank bombing should have been the final, demoralizing blow of a bitter year.
But it wasn't.
A memorial procession was arranged for Captain Tom Tennant on December 19th. Teenagers from the local high school volunteered to clean and detail the town's police cars for the event. Other volunteers tied blue ribbons around trees and signposts to honor the police. As the solemn parade of ambulances, fire trucks and police cars made its way through town, the citizens of Woodburn lined the sidewalks. They waved big American flags and displayed handmade signs that said: Thank You, Captain Tom.
Captain Tennant and Trooper Hakim both left behind families with teenage children, and after multiple surgeries and months in intensive care, Police Chief Russell's medical bills were escalating.
Woodburn residents began passing the hat. Soon there was such a flood of donations that Mayor Kathy Figley created a 501(c)(3) charity named Woodburn Proud to manage the contributions.
It wasn't long before Woodburn Proud broadened its agenda. They organized cleanup crews for various sites around the city. They staged 5k Fun Runs and Woodburn Appreciation Nights. They began selling a line of Woodburn Proud merchandise- tee-shirts, wristbands and car magnets- to raise money and promote community pride. They participated in campaigns to combat street crime.
On May 26th, 2009, a memorial honoring Tennant, Hakim and Russell was unveiled at the West Coast Bank. The monument was designed and constructed by Woodburn resident Don Sprague. Those attending the unveiling were joined in spirit by passersby who slowed their cars to honk and wave.
In June, after 6 months of surgeries and therapy, Chief Russell was ready to return to part time work. Woodburn held a picnic in his honor and he addressed a crowd of nearly 1200 well-wishers from his wheelchair.
By July 20, 2009, repairs to the West Coast Bank building were complete. The bank staged a grand reopening with catered food, balloons and flowers for the people of Woodburn.
In an official message marking the anniversary of the bombing, Mayor Kathy Figley wrote:
" Our community and the human community have risen to this awful occurrence with courage, faith and hope. While the worst of human nature is repulsive, we have seen the impact of the best of human nature in our community. When we are at our best, we are capable of some amazing things."
Later Woodburn Police Sgt. John Tlusty would put it more succintly:
"You have our back; we have yours."
We don't need a conspiracy theory to "explain" the crash of United Flight 93. The explanation is all around us, in heroes storming other cockpits:
A glass worker climbing into a burning building to rescue strangers trapped inside.
Neighbors joining hands to make a broken community whole again.
Rather than cast doubt, I think I will cast my lot with ordinary Americans and the miracles our combined humanity can sometimes make.
"Ok, there's a group of us and we're going to do something."
"I don't know who you are, but thank you."
"You have our back; we have yours."
That's all the conspiracy I need.
This link has a complete list of the passengers and crew on United flight 93, with biographies for each.
The promise of living
In hope and thanksgiving
Is born of our loving
Our friends
and our labor...
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