By Cindy Maxson

by Cindy Maxson

     “Good morning.  What’s on your agenda today?”

    “You know, same old, same old, meetings, lunch with a group that’s in town. I want to get in early, so I have time to get some work done before everyone else shows up.” 

     “I’ll get your coffee started while you get ready.”

     He was ready in no time, and I had his coffee and OJ on the counter for him to gulp and run.  As I watched him leave, he tapped the brake lights as a way of saying goodbye again.  The routine was comfortable and the same most mornings.  After he left, I checked my calendar to see what was on my agenda.  It was September 11, 2001.  Nothing urgent so I made a cup of tea and put on Good Morning America to get my daily feed of news and current affairs.  When the show was about to end the commentator looked shocked. She said they would be extending the broadcast because they just got word that a plane had hit the World Trade Center.  Soon, an announcement that a second plane had also hit the towers.  I thought, “Oh my God!  Bonnie works there and so does Tony, and I think Mary is going for an interview there today.”

     I called my husband and said to find a television “you won’t believe what’s happened.”  He said, “We already have one on.  Everyone is in my office watching.”  As the morning progressed, the news just got worse – the plane over PA, the Pentagon………

     How quickly the everyday routine dissolves when tragedy strikes. Suddenly, the lazy half daze of what is routine crystalizes into sharp focus and we begin to take stock of all that we cherish.

     The country is being attacked. How can this be happening? Who would do this? Are my friends ok? Where is my family?  Watching the towers crumble was horrifying. I sat silently as I thought of all those I knew who might be in peril and the city I had always loved so much

     New York City had always been the ultimate treat in my life. I lived on the New Jersey side of the river from New York City in the town of Rahway.  It was about twenty miles outside of NYC on the commuter line. My mother would take my sister and I to plays, museums, lunch at the Automat, Radio City Music Hall, the Statue of Liberty and occasionally dinner at Mamma Leone’s. It was always a dress up occasion.  We would walk the city streets in our dress shoes until we could no longer feel our feet, but it was worth it just to be there.

New York had a rhythm that was best described by the music Leonard Bernstein composed for the song “New York, New York, It’s a Wonderful Town”. As you watch people walk the streets, you can almost see the up and down tempo.

     Like so many other families, my ancestors had a history in New York City. They had immigrated there for what they hoped would be a better life.  They came through Ellis Island to what was the ever changing ethnic and geographic landscape that was Manhattan.

They made a life there.  One grandfather was a baker, the other a trainman on the New York to Washington route. One grandmother was a hotel maid and the other a hat designer.

     Part of what makes New York City so culturally rich is its ethnic diversity.  It is thought to be the most linguistically diverse in the world with over 800 languages and dialects spoken (Wikipedia). Yet on the days leading up to 9/11, there was no common language found to divert the devastation that was that day.

     Often, we live in blissful ignorance of the world around us. I could not have easily found Afghanistan on a map prior to 9/11. I had no idea what philosophy could manifest such hate. I’m sure many of the nearly 3000 people who were targets in the multiple locations might have said the same. Some of the people affected that day were friends and acquaintances. 

     I met Bonnie my first year at school in New York.  Our school was located on East 53rd street just off 5th Avenue.  She opted not to come back to school the second year.  Instead, she went to work for a bank located in the World Trade Center. By the greatest of luck, she was not at work that day.

      Mary was my first friend in the neighborhood.  We met when we were four years old. We have shared a lifetime of experiences together. She was headed for an interview on the morning of 9/11 at the World Trade Center. She stopped at her recruiter’s office first, not far from her intended destination. While in his office they heard what sounded like an explosion. That sound was the first plane hitting the first tower. When she left the recruiter’s office, she heard the police trying to calm people. They said that there had been an accident and a plane had clipped one of the buildings.  By the time the second building was hit, it was obvious it was no accident. She stood on the street watching as the buildings began to crumble. She began to fear she was in a war zone.  That day would impact her life for many years to come.

     Tony was my husband’s business associate.   He worked for a firm in the World Trade Center that had a long history with my husband’s company   He came to our city more often than my husband went to New York so on occasion my husband would bring him home for dinner.  Tony knew that I had a connection to New York and suggested that I accompany my husband the next time there was business there. I had not been back in many years. He invited us to his beautiful home, a brownstone, before going to dinner with him and his wife. One of my last memories of Tony was in my own kitchen.  He was talking to my husband while I cooked. He said, “I just turned 50.  My twin boys are 8.  I worry that I can’t keep up with them.” Who could have ever imagined that this man with so much to live for would have gone to work one day and never come home again. 

                                                                                                          

     How do you talk about the unspeakable?  I learned a long time ago that my husband never did.  As close as we were, some things were just too painful to share.  This would be another one of those times.

     My husband never met a stranger.  If he saw the cafeteria lady, the elevator operator, or the receptionist at a company he did business with, the next time he saw them he would remember their faces and know their names.  How much more difficult it must have been for him that day because not only did he lose a work friend, Tony, but he would remember the faces of all those lost who he had been in meetings with and those who kept the day-to-day running of the companies. He would be able to picture the offices and imagine the chaos.

     Until I started writing this, I don’t think I ever gave myself permission to put into words how I felt about that day. After all, I was still standing.  I wasn’t in the city that day.  It didn’t affect me directly.  Did it?  It’s amazing how much we can suppress. In all these years, I have never been back to New York.  September 11, 2001 became for me, as Don McLean wrote in the lyrics for the song “American Pie” “the day the music died.”

      On what started out as an ordinary day, the world, ours included, had changed forever.

Remembering Tub

July 17, 2023

     Before 2020, if anyone had asked me what I might miss most if I were stranded on a deserted island, I would not have thought my answer would be technology.  Tea, chocolate, a good book, Duct tape even would have been a more likely response. Certainly, not something I have in the past found challenging at best.

     Since we have all been so confined this past year, I realize that Zoom, has become many people’s window to the world, including mine. I have discovered that my phone and iPad have been a great source of intellectual stimulation and social contact. I have taken art classes from Texas and Florida, joined a Photography club from Massachusetts, attended book club meetings and church services and regularly meet with family on the East Coast for three hours every Sunday.  Even though my children live close by, in the spirit of social distancing, we have even celebrated holidays via Zoom.

I have learned the proper protocol for attending said meetings such as self-mute when not intending to speak, especially if you have three dogs. If you need to be checked in by the group monitor, you need to provide a name other than iPad. You should wear the proper attire since you never know when you have hit the wrong button and can be seen when not intending to be!

While watching news interviews this past year, I have learned the importance of aiming the camera at something pleasant to look at in the room like plants or a bookshelf.

     Zoom use to be a noise that you made when entertaining a small child playing with a toy car. Now, its new meaning has become a way of life.  As a result, when I realized that my iPad was at least ten years old and no longer capable of accepting updates and my phone now struggling to hold a charge, was at least seven years old, I decided to replace them. Normally I would have gone to the Apple store or my phone service provider and bought what I needed and had them set everything up for me.  This is not an area where I am at all skilled.

     When I called my cell phone provider, the computer that answered the call informed me that in keeping with the new business practices that have become necessary this year, there would not be a person to answer this call and I should go to my computer to make an appointment. After two unsuccessful attempts to find anything other than how to update my service and things to buy that I was not at all sure I needed, I decided to put off my quest to make an appointment and focus on getting the needed equipment instead.

     I called the Apple store which is a distance from my home and had everything sent. I ordered a new phone, iPad and everything needed to protect them, a case, screen protector, insurance, I was going to do this right because I might not do this again for another seven to ten years.

     One morning, I had taken the dogs to the groomer, the house was quiet, and I decided to try yet again to find the elusive prompt on the web site that would allow me to make an appointment with my cell provider.  Now that I had my new equipment, I was anxious to get it working.

I sat down at my desk, cup of tea in hand and decided to give it twenty minutes of effort while I sipped.  My late husband who was ever supportive used to say to our daughters and me no matter what the task, “you’ve got this.  You can do this.” Because he believed in us so much, we believed in ourselves. So, with that same “can do” attitude, I was determined.

       About fifteen minutes into my search there was still no magic button, but I did find a telephone number for technical service. I called and the computer that answered the phone proceeded to list a variety of things that I might need help with, none of which were what I was calling about.  To the company’s credit, I was not stuck in a loop with no way-out.  When the computer was at the end of its capabilities to help, it said “stay on the line and someone will be with you shortly.” Perhaps, this was in fact, what posed for the magic button I was seeking. I was surprised and relieved when an actual person eventually came on the line.  They seem few and far between these days.  He asked why I was calling, and I explained that I had a new phone and was trying to get an appointment to get it set up and I had trouble navigating their web site.  He said I will help you.  The in-store technicians would have to call me anyway for assistance.

     I said no, this is not an area I have any knowledge in.  He said we will do this together I’m sure it will be fine. It will not take very long “You can do this.” Just like the famous line from the movie, “You had me at hello” he had me at you can do this. 

      He explained that he was not as familiar with Apple phones as he was with some of the others but let’s get started, he said cheerfully.  I was instructed to look in the box my phone came in and find a tool that resembled a paperclip.

I found it and was told to locate the hole into which the tool was to be inserted. He thought it might be on the left side of the phone.  There was no hole on that side, but I located one on the right that appeared to trigger a small door. Still not entirely convinced that this was something I should be tackling, I continued to fiddle with the tool when suddenly the little door flew open and like a Genie coming out of a bottle the SIM card flew out and wafted to the floor. As I bent over to retrieve it, my office chair, which is on wheels, began to back up right for it.

“Oh expletive&%#!!!!! expletive&%#!!!!”

     Paused on the brink of absolute destruction, the chair stopped moving just in time and I was able to retrieve this minuscule piece of technology before it met with a terrible fate.  Since my head was under the desk, I truly hoped he had not heard my outburst.  I have after all spent the last year learning proper etiquette for encounters with people not actually in my home. 

     As I righted myself and regained my composure I said, “I have it. What would you like me to do with it?”  The man said, “I would like you to read the numbers on it for me.”

      I know that at some point in my life I may have been able to see the numbers on something that small but that has not been in many years.  Becoming increasingly more flustered and not at all sure that this was a good idea, I said to him calmly, “Would you mind if I get a magnifying glass?”  He said, “Oh, of course, take your time.” When I returned, I read him the number and was amazed at the information stored on something so tiny.   He instructed me to replace my SIM card to its rightful place.

     Not wanting to sound totally ignorant but wanting to move the process along I asked if there was a certain way it went back in since I did not see it before it took flight and landed on the floor.  He assured me there was only one way to reinsert it. With magnifier in hand, I discovered that in fact, the corners were shaped differently so that even a neophyte like me could not make a mistake.

     We proceeded on and my confidence was beginning to build until he asked me to plug the phone in.  It was then I discovered that the cube that allows the device to be plugged into the wall was not included with the new phone. The old one I was prepared to use didn’t fit.  There had been some design changes in the past seven years. 

     When I opened the iPad box, I discovered a cube which would fit both devices.  Hallelujah!! that problem was remedied.

We proceeded on and for about the next twenty-five minutes all went well until we hit a snag.  The otherwise calm voice on the other end of the phone seemed a bit perplexed.  He said, “May I put you on hold? When I come back, I will have an Apple representative on the line with us and we will fix the problem.”

     Being put on hold gives one time to ponder the great mysteries of the world. For instance, was the Holy Grail tiny like a SIM card and perhaps not really hidden but overlooked for centuries? Or if the person who has just put me on hold is having a coffee or restroom break. I could use one of those myself.

     The sound of a woman’s voice and my technicians as they returned to the line, brought me out of my revery.  She introduced herself as an Apple technician and said, “I would like you to undo everything you have done.”  That was not what I wanted to hear but as per her instructions, I did exactly that and now we were back to where we started.  Going forward, I followed her instructions to the letter.  Eventually she said, “We are at the last step.” The three of us were quite relieved, we were nearing success. How long had we been at this?

     “Enter your Apple ID” she said.  As I hesitated, she asked if I had forgotten it. I said yes. Since we were all seemingly on the same team trying to bring this to a successful conclusion, I said, “Can you tell me what it might be?”  She said “No, but I can send it to you.” Ok?? 

     When it arrived, I meticulously entered it so there would be no mistake and I would finally have reached the goal. The phone refused to accept it.  The woman said abruptly, “You have a defective phone. You will have to return it to the store.”  She promptly left the line.  I was left with my technician who was so sure in the beginning we could do this that eventually he had even assuaged my fears.

     Apologizing, we prepared to end the call. Suddenly, an eerie sound began to emanate from the new phone that had just been pronounced DOA.  It was ringing! The man said “Did your phone just ring?”  I said, “Yes.  Did you cause that to happen?” He said, “No; perhaps you should answer it.”  I picked up the phone poked at the still dark screen and said “Helloooo.”

      “Hi. This is the groomer. Just wanted you to know the dogs are ready.”  Reality had set in, and I realized it had been two and a half hours since I had originally sat down with my cup of tea.  I felt like my head was in a vice and I had the urge to put my head back under the desk, my new-found sanctuary, and scream.  Instead, I thanked the man who was truly a credit to his company and said goodbye.

    A few days later my son-in-law who I could not love more if he were my own and who knows all of my faults as well as all of my passwords, found the problem with my phone.  Apple had given me an obsolete password during set up. Although my confidence was shaken, I actually could have done this and almost had.  All in all, the experience taught me that for the next time, if there ever is a next time, I’ve got this!  

I didn’t meet Harold Lee Maxson (called Tub) until he was close to the end of his years at West Point. Tub and I would have been married 50 years this year. I was headed for an entirely different life before I met Tub. I was studying Fashion Merchandising in New York City and fully intended to have a buying career that I hoped one day would take me on wonderful buying adventures – my ultimate goal: time in Paris.  Little did I know that before any of that came to pass, I would meet my soul mate and the adventures that I would eventually go on would be far superior to anything I could have ever imagined.

My father and all of his brothers served in the military during World War II and there was always a reverence for the military in our family that I came to respect as I grew up, but I never thought that other than our family history I would have any direct connection to the Army.

I met Tub by default at the Army/Navy Game in 1968.  I was not supposed to be his date.  I have to say the minute he walked into the room I was smitten.  I came from a large Irish family, so I recognized his as a handsome Celtic face and he had the most engaging smile. After a bit, we started dating.  As a result, in June of 1969, I was there with him to celebrate “June Week” and his graduation.

That is most likely where our story begins.  Tub drove me back home to New Jersey after graduation in his shiny new AMX.

He had planned to stay a few days at my parents’ house.  The time turned into most of the summer.  My family was beginning to wonder if this was becoming serious.  I knew it wasn’t, He would be going to Alaska with a stop at Fort Benning.  He had dreams of getting a motorcycle and an English Bull dog and seeing the world. His future was set.  Although I was hoping for Paris, I had been offered a job in the buyer training program at Best and Company, a department store on 5th Avenue in New York.  I thought i was going to accept it.

One evening in July, Tub and I decided to go to a drive-in.

I loved movies and since I didn’t have a car, drive-ins were a special treat. Somewhere in the course of the evening Tub asked me to marry him. The problem…I was not expecting it and I missed it entirely.  For days after he was annoyed with me, but I had no idea what I had done.  Finally, he said, “You could have said something.”  I had no idea what he was talking about and after some convincing, he realized that.  Lucky for me he asked again and instead of taking the job I took a leap of faith.

We decided to get married in February but with orders changing and leave availability we decided on an earlier date in November.  We were married on a three-day pass and by Monday, Tub was back in the field at Fort Benning.  I really missed my large family, but it was not long before I realized I had become part of another family not related by blood but by purpose and friendship. The military that I had grown up respecting was now part of my life. Our next assignment would be Alaska and some of the friends we knew in Georgia would be joining us there.

We left Georgia for our drive across country, to the state of Washington, in late winter; there we would fly to Alaska. After stops in New Jersey and Michigan to visit our families we began our trek West.

I had never been further west than the Dakotas and Tub had always wanted to go to Alaska.  We were so excited to be making this trip.  Had Willie Nelson already written the song “On the Road Again” it might have been our theme song. “On the road again, just can’t wait to get on the

road again…” The changing terrain was beautiful sometimes blanketed with snow. The small towns, the big cities, the open land, it was a joy to see.  Gosh, what is that? I’m excited. On a practical side, we were traveling with some cash, traveler’s checks, and a gas credit card.   

In those days, credit cards were not readily available and we didn’t qualify.  We were also traveling with two dogs. Tub gave me a Miniature Schnauzer as a wedding present and we acquired Cinnamon Cinder the 11th, a Miniature Dachshund, while in Georgia.  Since we were practical and poor, we decided to travel with an electric fry pan and a cooler.  How much simpler life would have been if smart phones had been invented and we could have found a list of hotels that accepted pets and credit cards to pay for dinners out, but it would not have been nearly as much fun.  So, each night Tub put the dogs in his coat, and I carried the fry pan and the food. This was our nightly version of covert ops and we hoped we would not be discovered. The next morning, we were “On the road again”.

When I think of arriving in the state of Washington, I think of a mountain pass covered in snow with beautiful large birds that may have been pheasants and thinking that I wished I could capture that moment. I don’t remember where Tub had to check in, maybe Ft. Lewis; the logistics of the second leg of our journey were in his purview not mine.  I became more engaged in the process when his paperwork stated that since Alaska, at that time, was considered an overseas assignment, his dependent had to be given the required injections for said assignment.   I remember getting shots in both arms and shortly after I was sick.  I was so sick that I could not leave the hotel room to get to a medical facility – that lasted for three days.  We were quickly running out of money. I’m sure Tub was frantic, but he had to get our dogs and car shipped and rearrange our flights until I could travel again.

I don’t know if it was the original flight plan, but we flew to Alaska in what I believe was a C-130; I remember a cargo net in the front of the plane that appeared to be holding luggage.

Someone said that they put regular seats in for the flight.  I was new to this and at the time I didn’t know what irregular seats might have been.  We would have been able to buy a box lunch but after the extended hotel stay, we had 30 cents between us. We didn’t know what would happen when we eventually arrived in Alaska with 30 cents in our pockets and no car but one chapter of our adventure had ended and the next was about to begin.

Fortunately for us, the heavens and the military realized that the exuberance of youth and 30 cents was not going to do it for us, and we had been assigned sponsors.  They met the first three planes, and this was the last one they were going to meet before concluding that we were not coming.  They were such a welcome sight.  They took us to the post guest house at Fort Richardson and promised to take us the next day to see the sights and look for moose. I don’t remember the first few days there and I don’t remember their names because I was still decidedly unwell.  I do remember the fleeting thought when I got off the plane: Oh! there is the tarmac and mud along with snow. I knew nothing about Alaska. I thought I was going to be landing on something akin to an iceberg. I had no idea what we were coming to since this was before the advent of the internet. The written word was not adequate to describe what we would find in Alaska. Our time there witnessed magnificent scenery, new directions, lessons learned for me about the military,  a motorcycle, camping in the wilderness while six months pregnant, camping on a glacier (Tub) one of his oft told stories, babies born, joys, sorrows and news of friends tragically dying.

We grew up a lot there. I was 21 and Tub 22 when we left Georgia. The kids who drove across country young and bulletproof left Alaska as adults. We were a bit older and considerably more aware.  We were also the parents of a wonderful baby girl.

In the 47 years that I was blessed to have with Tub, there were countless more adventures.  He had several motorcycles and many trips on them through the USA, Canada and parts of Europe.

I eventually got as far as a layover in the Paris airport and for a brief time I was a buyer for a small store in PA. The cross-country trip and Alaska were really where my interest in art began and has remained. I discovered that art and life are all about capturing the moment.

I often think in terms of song lyrics, just lines from songs where the bits and pieces fit the situation. In writing this I keep thinking of a song by Ronnie Milsap, “I Wouldn’t Have Missed It for the World”. With a few changes to reflect how I felt about my husband and our life together. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, wouldn’t trade one memory. You made my whole life worthwhile with your smile…I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Forever and always,

Cyn