I Hear America Calling
Vigil strange I kept on
the field one night;
When you my son and my comrade dropt at
my side that day;
One look I but gave which your dear eyes
return'd with a look I shall never forget,
One touch of your hand to mine O boy,
reach'd up as you lay on the ground. Walt Whitman
Friday night we gathered at the football
field to cheer for the players victorious. The band played and the cheerleaders
cheered. The poms danced in the clear night air. This was done throughout the
area at different stadiums as it has been for years. Somehow it was different,
though.
Sunday we gathered in solemn remembrance
of those who will no longer cheer on this earth. We prayed in the stands where
prayer is not usually public. We wept and God seemed to weep with us as the
rain fell lightly at the end of the ceremony. A friend commented that she
"really needed this" referring to this public mourning time. The
words were comforting. A time for the community to start the healing process.
Different faiths, different races, different ideologies. All Americans.
The images still linger. The crashes,
the burning of buildings, the terror. The images of those falling or jumping
out of the buildings. Flying to a death most certain when nothing else seemed
certain. The pictures that haunt us. The sounds of the phone calls, as if
calling from the grave, to tell family members that they are loved.
Father
Judge killed as he administered last rights to a dying
firefighter. Angela Houtz,
27, doing her work at the Pentagon. The heroes of United Flight 93, like Todd Beamer who yelled
"Let's roll" before attempting with at least two others to overtake
the hijackers and crashing into rural Pennsylvania. Todd will not have the
chance to see his third child who is expected in January. How do you tell your
children that their mommy or daddy will not be coming home anymore?
Faces, varieties,
postures beyond description, most in obscurity,
some of them dead,
Surgeons operating, attendants holding
lights, the smell of ether,
the odor of blood,
The crowd, O the crowd of the bloody
forms, the yard outside,
also fill'd,
Some on the bare ground, some on planks
or stretchers, some in
the death-spasm sweating,
An
occasional scream or cry, ... Walt Whitman
We saw it happen and we couldn't look
away. Glued to the gore that was being shown. Shown repeatedly. How many times
did the jets hit the towers? The inferno was like watching a movie my daughter
commented. The heat strong enough to topple the towers. The soldiers sent to
rescue who needed rescuing. The soldiers who would not come out again. Those
who have chosen to serve and protect, the police officers and the firefighters,
as brave as any soldier in battle. Will we ever look at them and the job they
do the same? The rubble, the ashes, the billowing smoke lingering as a reminder
that none of us is invincible.
William
Feehan, fire commissioner. Peter Ganci, fire department chief. Steven Olson,
firefighter. Yamel Merino,
EMT. People who were doing their jobs. People who were in the line of fire,
unable to escape. Five thousand innocent men, women, and children who will not
be here for the next Holiday. Where do their families go for comfort? Was Susan Hanson, 35,
allowed to hold her daughter, Christine,
3, before the impact? What comforting words could she offer her or herself? How
would we respond at such a time?
I went to sleep
with the television on. I would awake to look at my wife and children, knowing
for now that they are safe. Not knowing what tomorrow will bring. The stories
of those looking for their loved ones, as they held pictures up to the screen
brought a sense of hope. The knowledge of what happened brought a sense of
dread. The dancer, Sonia
Morales Puopolo, who will never grace the ballet stage again.
The doctor, Paul Ambrose,
whose hands will not be allowed to heal again. The spiritual counselor, Paige Farley Hackel, whose
work is needed now is in a more spiritual palace. And the list goes on....
I hear the siren going by my office and
am thankful for the work of our firemen. I can't imagine the chaos in New York
and Washington, D.C. last week. When will it end? and at what cost? My
generation has been sheltered in a way. We have not fully known war. Now that I
have seen the effects, it is not something, I believe, that anyone wants to
know. We will know it, though, at home and oversees. How do you fight a phantom
enemy? How does a country that has learned to love life and tries to find ways
to extend it fight an enemy that wants to die in order to secure a seat with
their Allah?
There are no atheists
in foxholes.
Unknown
At Sunday's gathering there were no
outcries from the ACLU. There were no court orders to separate Church and
State. There were those who were there for the glory of God and country. We
were there in communion with our brothers and sisters. We were there to ask God
to forgive us and to forgive our enemies. We were there because we had been
brought to our knees and while we were down there, we had the chance to pray,
to ask God's blessing on us and of those that are now with Him. We were there
because not only is there strength in numbers, but there is comfort, as well.
All of a sudden the world didn't seem like such a vast, and sometimes distant
land. For a while we were a true community. The New York that we have envisioned,
the hard, sometimes cocky, bully-like personality, was suddenly more
vulnerable, friendlier, compassionate, and in need of help. We as a nation
sensed that and have rushed to help. Washington, D.C., that bastion of
bickering, political infighting, and deal-making partisan politicians, was now
a place where innocent civilians and military personnel who help to protect our
country had faces. The faces of humanity.
We shall remember September 11, 2001. We
shall know where we were when we heard the news. Much like we know where we
were when John F. Kennedy was assassinated or the generation before us
remembers where they were when Pearl Harbor was bombed. The images are seared
in our collective memory. And despite this, or because of this we have come
together and put aside our differences for now, to stand as one nation, under
God, indivisible. Our flags will fly, our bodies will be put to rest, but our
country will grow stronger, not because we are more powerful (which we are),
not because we have the best and brightest minds (which we do), not because we
have the greatest leaders, but because we are a nation forged by the idea of
justice and freedom. God will watch over us, because we believe in Him. No
terrorist can take that away from us. Not today. Not tomorrow. Never.
Long,
too long America,
Traveling roads alleven and peaceful you
learn'd from joys and
prosperity only,
But now, ah now, to learn from crises of
anguish, advancing, grappling,
with direst fate and recoiling not,
And now to conceive and show the world
what your children
en-masse really are,
(For who except myself has yet conceiv'd
what your children
en-masse really are?). Walt
Whitman
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