Jennifer Ibbotson Rodriguez, aka SuperJen, is the oldest daughter of Jimmy Ibbotson. She is best known as “oh little Jennifer” from the song, Ripplin’ Waters recorded by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. She is the wife and caregiver of a disabled combat veteran who survived the war that started on her life’s longest and worst day. She is now feeling better and more healed than ever before. However, a realization has been re-recognized on each anniversary, leading her to believe there will never be a ‘completion date’ to her healing journey. As she prefers to be called, Jen is now a consulting hypnotist working as a virtual hypnotic coach from her home state of Colorado. In addition, she is working on a book or two, and her daily goal is to make the world a better place, one smile at a time.
On the anniversary of 9/11, Jennifer shared this personal story with New York Weekly:
I was 29 years and 18 days old on September 11th, 2001.
I had just moved to New York City from Seattle 7 days earlier. I moved to Brooklyn, to be exact, about a block from the entrance to the Verrazzano Bridge.
I had worked my way into a fantastic job transfer by closing a sales manager on what a tremendous addition I would make to their corporate team. That was true; on September 5th, 2001, the Tuesday I reported to my new office on the 19th floor of an 8th Ave. midtown high rise.
Monday, September 10th, 2001, was the opening night of Monday Night Football. It was The Denver Broncos hosting the NY Giants in their brand-new stadium. As a diehard Broncos fan in Aspen since childhood, I wasn’t going to miss it. I even stayed up to the very late ending to watch us beat one of the pretend-NY teams. I always thought both should admit they were really from Jersey. (Go ahead, fight me; The Buffalo Bills is the only NY football team!)
As I rode the subway into the city the next day, exhausted from watching football to standing on the express, I sat on the local. I read Cain River as my commute took a longer, more interrupted route than I had chosen up to that point.
Could I have had a routine yet?
If so, I broke it; because I was feeling lazy and entitled by the win of my team and the loft of my transfer. But, pride cometh before a fall, I have heard a time or two as a Baptist minister’s granddaughter.
As I stopped at what I would later find out was The Courtlandt Street Exit, I looked up from my Oprah Book Club recommendation to contemplate if Ed McCaffrey was going to be ‘out of the game’ for the rest of the year. His injury the night before had looked as bad as any I remembered. (except, of course, that one time in the 70s or 80s when that player’s bone popped out of his thigh. So what was his name again?)
And that’s when I heard what sounded like the whistle of a cartoon bomb falling.
Then, a jostle shook the train so much that I thought we might topple over.
That’s when the doors started opening. Bounce. Almost Closed. Bounce, open again. Repeat.
I followed the riders off the train. We became a crowd in the tunnel. Someone yelled “Fire!” and people started trampling each other. Everyone was trying to get to street level as fast as they could. People were stepping over others as they got clogged up at the turnstiles.
A deep knowing told me to get back on the train. Like a voice saying, “I never told you to get off the train.” I knew right then, and there I shouldn’t keep following the crowd. I knew I needed to step back on that train.
I didn’t know what was happening yet. I didn’t know what would happen next, not until it happened. I could go on and on.
I could talk about how I found out what was happening and how I walked out of the city. I could talk about how I deeply compounded my trauma the following week while watching the news coverage.
I could talk about the anniversaries since. Or, I could share the story of the physical aftereffects that threatened my capabilities for over a decade and the aftermath to my mental health that still shadows certain relationships.
I could talk about how my mindset was my most significant ‘foe’ and the ONLY solution to my prayers.
I could even talk in-depth about my emotional response to watching the events of January 6th, 2020 and how the two attacks directly correlate if you wanted me to.
September 11th, 2001, is still my life’s longest and worst day. It affects everything about me. It made me stronger, wiser, and more compassionate and understanding. I am grateful for who I have become and what I am doing today, but I am not yet sure if I am grateful for the reason for making me this ‘super.’
More about Jen and what she is doing to help heal her own and other’s trauma today :
