I Hear America Calling

I Hear America Calling

by

Roland Tolliver

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 time 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 there job. 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

The Quiet Morning Sky

I lay in bed yesterday morning and heard the planes flying overhead. There is a distinct pattern of flight from points west to O'Hare Airport that goes directly over Freeport around 6:00 a.m.. I could set my alarm to the early morning drone of the jets. Yesterday marked the seventh anniversary of the day the jets quit flying for several ominously eerie days. The nation was at a standstill while the impact of the terrorist attacks of the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and United Flight 93 were felt throughout our country and the world. It was the day the skies stood still.

All of the articles about "Where were you?" have been written to commemorate the date. The politicians put away their animosities for a one day truce. The memorials were held and the names of the victims were read and the bells tolled for those who gave their lives that day. Taps were played from the roof of the Pentagon and the sad refrains from the bagpipes echoed through the courtyard.

Local ceremonies were held throughout the country and law enforcement officers and fire department personnel were asked for their views on the tragedy and how it has affected our nation over the past seven years. Schools held moments of silence or stood at attention for "Taps" or the national anthem. Some said prayers for the victims and their families. Others went about their day, as if it were just another day.

I looked at the sky and wondered how something like that could happen and could it or would it happen again? Are there enough safety precautions now at our nation's airports, rail stations, and bus terminals? How much difference does it make if we take our shoes off or are strip-searched? Do we feel safer for ourselves and for our children? How much lip service has been given and how much actual action to ensure our country's protection has been taken?

There are plenty of reasons to question the war in Iraq and how it actually has affected the fact that there have been no more attacks on U.S. soil since September 11, 2001. There were legitimate reasons to go to Afghanistan and yet, Osama Bin Laden has still not been located. We've lost more soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq than died on 9/11 and we wonder to what end.

We are coming to an election and the "change" that is being touted is not really about true change in the way things are done, but in a change of the face of leadership. Will it matter much whether it is McCain/Palin or Obama/Biden if there is no change in the Congress? Once either one gets into office, the first term is about not screwing up too badly in the first two years, so that the next two years can be spent trying to stay in office with the next election.

Whether lipstick on a pig is an issue or who is the real agent of change really matters are left to public opinion, but it is really about having a vision for our country and the ability to convey that message to the citizens who are the ones whose lives are affected. Take away the TelePrompters and you still have human beings with doubts, human faults, and an occasional idea that takes us beyond the rhetoric and into a real sense of desire to accomplish something. Bring it to the level of everyday citizens and they might even find that their message resonates into community action.

We remember. We live. We go on. We move on. And in another year, we'll remember again. We should remember each and every day, though, about the days the skies stood still and our lives were changed. Forever.