Would You Roll?

Johnny-on-the-Spot … by John Foster …

My work in radio has enabled me to be on the lead edge of some important moments in our history.

But even before I was a broadcaster, I remember the announcement over the school PA system at Madison Junior High School on November 22nd, 1963.

It’s where I first learned that President John F. Kennedy had been assassinated.

I don’t remember much about the day other than the comment of a teacher who said, “Well, if it’s the Communists, this is World War III!”

Years later, I thought that was a strange statement for an adult to share with students at that moment.

I still remember the picture of Walter Cronkite removing his eyeglasses after somberly reporting that JFK had died just moments before and you could see that he was just briefly dealing with his feelings about what he had been reporting.

I remember getting off the bus and running to the flag pole in the northwest corner of our front yard so I could lower the flag to half-staff.

I think we’ve somewhat lessened the importance of that act since it seems to me the flag gets lowered much more often these days.

Flag etiquette says Old Glory should be lowered to half-staff when the nation or state is in mourning.

It could be a national tragedy, Memorial Day or another national day of remembrance.

That was Friday, November 13th, 1963.

Most often, the flag at half-mast is to mark the death of a government official, a military member or a first-responder.

But I have had occasions in recent years to see the flag at half-staff and wonder, “Who’s that for?”

As a kid, I only recalled seeing the flag at half-staff on rare occasions.

I also wondered why some people are “assassinated” while others are “killed”.

Normally “assassination” is used if the victim is prominent or important and may be prompted by grievances, notoriety, financial military, political or other motives.

But those points notwithstanding, when you’re involved in reporting on traumatic events, you normally are too involved with getting the news out to your audience tp have any time to reflect on the events.

When the space shuttle Challenger explosion occurred on January 26th, 1986, Americans had started to become somewhat blase` regarding our nation’s space efforts.

But 73 seconds into the launch, that all changed.

I was busy that day getting information on the air and reaching out for local reaction and it was late in the day, when several of us retired to the announcer lounge to get something to eat and relax a moment.

It was then I spurted out, “Oh my God, all those family members there on the launch reviewing stand saw that happen!”

We just sat there for a moment in silence, mulling that over.

I felt like I had been punched in the midsection.

I did have enough presence of mind to save all of the Associated press wire copy that was sent to our station that day.

It’s chilling to read it, even today.

We just recently observed the 22nd anniversary of the September 11th, 2001 attacks on our nation.

I was wrapping up an on-air interview about the time the first plane slammed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center in New York City @ 8:46AM.

Over the next several hours as events played out, like you, I watched the live television coverage while monitoring wire copy and seeing that information went out over the air of our radio stations.

Reaching out to local officials for reactions and comments was combined with sometimes taking calls from locals with friends or relatives in New York City, pleading for any information we might have.

Later that day, others had come in to work and I went home to my family.

I recall standing in the kitchen, talking and listening when I remembered a news story earlier that morning about a landing way in one of the towers.

A firefighter said they were attempting to rescue dozens of people in wheel chairs stranded there since they couldn’t negotiate the stairs.

I said, “Oh my! I wonder what happened to them? Did they get removed safely?”

My eyes welled up for the first time that day as I had a moment to consider what I had been covering.

I remember the picture of the aide whispering in the ear of President Bush while he was reading to some elementary school students, obviously advising him as to what had happened.

The fact that he finished up with those youngsters before leaving to conduct the affairs of the nation always touched me.

The President addressing salvage and clean up crews at ground zero by bullhorn days later always reminds me of our raw emotions.

When the workers yelled, “We can’t hear you!” and the President replied, “I can hear you!” and the cheer went up that reflected the true American spirit.

On the anniversary of these events, I remember each year we add more people who were not here at that time to remember what happened and how we felt.

It reminds me we have to remember.

We must remember.

It’s part of my routine every September 11th.

I remember the stories of those on United flight 93 that crashed near Shanksville, Pennsylvania after several passengers stormed the cockpit overtaken by terrorists.

It was Todd Beamer who was heard saying, “Let’s roll!” just before he and others charged the cockpit.

Those two words are as powerful as any uttered in American history.

It’s a question I ask myself each year.

I think it’s a valid question for each and every American to consider.

“Would I have stormed that cockpit that morning?”