Firearms Owners Against Crime
Institute for Legal, Legislative and Educational Action
Institute for Legal, Legislative and Educational Action
by: Klint Macro
Wednesday, September 12th, 2001
There was NO sound of traffic on LaBrea Ave in Hollywood, CA. The Streets were quiet as ALL business halted. You could hear the sound of birds in the trees, not something commonly heard over the traffic of a busy city. The sky was blue and sunny, just like it was the previous morning before the first plane hit, however the air felt different.
The world woke up on 9-12-01 and sat back down in front of the “flash-y box” (TV) to find what had happened over night. Was it over? Who did it? What was going to happen next? What was the total death toll?
The images from 9-11 replayed; plane… smash, boom, flash, dust, crash, collapse. The powder covered faces of everyday people emerging from the clouds of dust like ghosts with streams of white mud dripping from their eyes. The distorted overmodulated sound of falling towers captured on shaky handheld cameras… explosions, pulverized concrete, and shattered glass. FDNY, NYPD, and regular citizens rushing into buildings as people were running out. Seeing debris fall from the top floors of the towers only to realize it was people jumping…. Most of us who were alive on that day…… we certainly remember.
On 9-12, I needed to digest what I saw. I knew many of my friends were going to New York to help look for survivors. At this time, Jen and I were not in the best shape “financially”. We were living in a one room studio apartment in Hollywood. We were managing, but driving back east was not possible.
Just like so many others, I did not know what to do. I felt I needed to do something. Jen and I were 27 and she was about to start a new job at the Getty Museum. I had my own business, a studio in Hollywood, and had projects to work on, however the client had cancelled that week’s sessions. I talked to my dad to check in on him. We discussed the events of the day and I voice my concern about the future. He did not offer any advice other than, “keep working while you figure out what you want to do next.”
I knew my Wednesday session was cancelled and my business partner was not coming into the studio either that day. I decided I needed to pull away from the flashy box and walk up to 7-11 to grab some smokes (yes, I smoked at the time).
The street was disturbingly traffic-less and sans people. Not the normal thing for Hollywood on a seemingly beautiful Wednesday morning. As I approached the 7-11 on the corner of Sunset and LaBrea, I noticed something odd across the street.
There was a recruiter’s office in the complex on the other side of Sunset Blvd, and there was a huge line of men waiting to get into the door. I grabbed my smokes and crossed the street and ventured to the back of the line. What a diverse collection of folks waiting to get in! Every shape, size, and color of men were represented. White, Black, Hispanic, Asian, surfers, punks, metal heads, clean cuts, vatos, nerds, muscle heads… each were singular in their purpose; every type of American standing in line to sign up and fight the bastards that attacked OUR country.
I decided to stay in line as more men filed in behind me. One of the guys in front of me bummed a smoke. Outside of the normal pleasantries one exchanges after someone bums a smoke from you, the chit chat was brief. Everyone was rather pensive and quiet. I stood in that line for about a ½ hour wondering if this was my new purpose, what would this choice do to my wife, how could I honor my previous commitments and do this thing I was about to do?
I was about 10 feet from the front door when my pager went off. It was my business partner, and he ended the page with “911”. For those of you that don’t know what a pager is, it was a device that would alert you to a phone number that you had to call back. Most folks had codes that would notate the urgency of the need to call back sooner than later. Ironically, “911” meant call back ASAP. I asked the guy in line behind me to hold my place as I went around the corner to a pay phone.
To this day, I do not know what his call was intended to be about. When I told him that I was in line at the recruiter, he urged me to go back home, take care of my wife, and get back to work the next day. The discussion lasted more than 10 minutes, but he ultimately convicted me that I had a higher purpose “here” and had commitments to honor “here”. I never got back in that line at the recruiter’s office. For many years, especially during times of doubt, I looked back at that decision as cowardice. But time and wisdom has shown me that I ultimately made the right decision.
On 9-12-01 everyone was an American.
There was no division among race, socio-economic standing, or political party. Hell, even the French were Americans! People from across the globe stood in support of the United States. The only thing Americans identified as were AMERICANS. We stood together, prayed together, helped one another, sent food, raised money, and donated blood. My words cannot do justice the feeling of community that everyone felt on 9-12. Unfortunately, I have not felt that level of unity since.
Here we are now 22 years later. My life has changed significantly since 9-12-01. Jen and I are back home in Pennsylvania. Our son was born in ’08 (he is our most crowning achievement). The studio business has become a side gig as God has redirected me into the training and advocacy world.
9-11 taught me that “we” are always vulnerable… don’t be complacent… stay frosty.
9-12 taught me that no matter what, together, “we” are Americans first!
The years following 9-11 taught me that turning to the government in times of chaos is generally not the best course of action.
There are enemies abroad and within that are seeking to destroy our Constitutional Republic.
All Americans should be empowered to freely exercise ALL of their rights and Liberties without fear from other people or the government.
Self-sufficiency is the key to long term prosperity.
These lessons combined with divine providence, guidance from wise mentors, and stubborn dogged persistence has led me to this point in my life. I am my son’s father. I am my wife’s husband. I educate my fellow Americans to freely exercise ALL of their rights. I fight to limit government interference in the free exercise of those rights. This IS my higher purpose and I accept it.
What is your higher purpose? How can you help to ensure that the country we leave to the next generation is better than we found it? How can you prepare the next generation to meet the challenges of their “9-11”?
An armed and educated citizenry is the true check and balance in our Constitutional Republic and the ultimate homeland security.