Letters of Spoken Grief

Peter Rossi
TheMensCenter.com Men's Issues Chat Facilitator
Director, ConsultationCenter.com

Notes from Ground Zero (Peter lives in south Florida but was visiting New York on September 11).

It's a scene from a dark brooding foreign film but I am living in it and  everyone around me is a character in the movie.  Some rant and rave, others look bewildered, some openly crying.  The workers doing the demolition work in the office where I'm staying, hooked up a TV monitor so it was able to get a station. 

I had slept at my cousin Joey's last night.  He called me from his office across from the WTC to tell me the top 5 floors were on fire.  His office was a block away.  I turned on the radio to see if I could find out what was going on.

Two sports jocks provided the best coverage. They gave a synopsis of everything happening on TV and had the advantage of all their regular listeners calling in w eye witness reports.

I told Joey to get the hell out of there as he told me of seeing people jump out of windows.  Theories of malfunctioning air traffic directions and a fire on the WTC soon gave way to reality as the second plane hit as they were speaking.

Joey was waiting for his supervisor to tell them to leave as the windows on his floor were blown out.  Cautious speculations about what was happening were blown away by these sports DJ/s and their eyewitness fans.  The reality was soon apparent, not only was the WTC under terrorist attack but so was our country. 

I was consumed by the unfolding tragedy as unsuspecting wall street type professionals walked by the office on their way to work.  I had the
radio at the doorway as I tried to let people know what was happening.  Some men in thousand dollar suits reading the wall street Journal listened to my warnings about not going to work today as others smiled and continued rushing to the train.  No one seemed aware of what was happening.

This kind of event is beyond comprehension.  The rest of the day proceeded as seen on TV.  A third explosion at the base of the WTC, one building collapsing then the other, the pentagon, the crash in Pennsylvania.  From my tally 8 planes were hijacked.  One was shot down and three were unaccounted for.  I bet it will turn out that they were shot down but our air force will not admit it as yet.

A third explosion, eye witnesses reported, was at the base of one WTC.  My understanding is that there was probably a terrorist bomb load in an ambulance that pulled up under the WTC. 

After watching the Pentagon report around 7, I left for Joey's.  He had started drinking at 3:30 breaking his pattern of not drinking until 6.  He was beginning to feel the effects of what happened all around him earlier and watching CNN since he came home.  He saw people falling from buildings and walked around part of a plane engine to get back.  Walked to 14th St. and got a bus to 81st St. where he lives.

After I got there, he turned on some science fiction program, complaining that he couldn't take it any more.  A phone call from his niece, Maria took him into the kitchen so I was able to turn the news back on.  I saw repeated regurgitation with no analysis.  Earlier I listened to WBAI, a Pacifica Radio station which gave some fuller picture, reports, and speculations making sense. 

Joey didn't want to wait for the President's speech at 8:30 so we went out to find a restaurant.  His gracious offer to make some potatoes and eggs to suit my diet was turned down.  How could  you stay home and eat potatoes and eggs while the world as we know it is coming to a halt?

 All the restaurants open were full with waiting lines.  But Joey says they're like that all the time on Columbus Ave.  We walked to 79th St. A classy restaurant had a TV on with the president's speaking.  I watched it through an open window.  Joey lit a cigarette and sat on a car fender.  A crowd gathered.  Speech was nothing with nothing.  At one point in the BS, I said "Bull Shit."

 A woman walking a dog said "right," an orthodox couple in front of me turned and stared. Every other platitude was greeted by applause from the restaurant patrons.  I said something not nice about Bush and a guy called me a not nice name.  The woman said give me a break, let's hope Bush doesn't make things worse.  The guy started getting more crazy, The woman took him on, Joey looked nervous and I started walking away with him.

A few stores down, I looked back and saw the woman in the midst of an argument with a faction of the crowd around her.  I told Joey I think I abandoned the woman and walked back.  She had managed to move to the edge planning an escape.  I looked protective and said do you need to be rescued?  She was a little thing and her lab was a pushover.  She said no and I walked away with her. 

Joey said I can't take this I need to go home.  He escaped and I left with Miata or what ever her name was.  She was really a gentle soul who I tried to take out to dinner instead of Joey, I assured her I wasn't hitting on her but just wanted company. 

We developed an instant rapport but she had to go home to make some calls to reassure family she was OK.  She declined and it was her birthday with no one to celebrate too.  I walked her home as we shared similar politics and reactions to the world situation.  I gave her my number and she promised she would call if her clients canceled their massage apts tomorrow.  We parted instant friends.

Instead of going to the office at 72nd I continued south to 59th street.  the city was eerie.  few cabs on the street, closed stores few pedestrians  some homeless ambulatory schizophrenics.  One old guy had 2 message banners mounted on a stick along the top edge.  When cars stopped at a light, he went in viewing distance to hold out the banner so drivers could read the message, he'd turn each to the other side so those messages could also be read.  Variations of the end is near and it is the CIA and FBI's fault.  I told him he was probably right.

At Columbus Circle, I stopped to listen to a street musician at the bottom of the subway entrance there.  It was a fancy rotunda overlooked by a 40' stainless steel globe with rings around it probably representing the world being tied together with satellites towering over that was Trump Tower and International Hotel.

Across from where I was standing a new 5 star hotel/condominium calling it the center of everything is being built.  The guy was singing Bob Marley songs all befitting the occasion.  Dont tell me why, These are the times; Save the children; stop the violence.  I don't know if they were Marley lyrics or modified, but they fit the mood perfectly in the weird tension filled silence. 

The street had very little traffic.  An ambulance and fire truck from Irvington, NY passed.  The trains were running.  Passengers were exiting and entering at a fairly leisurely pace.  No one paid any attention to him.  I liked this white boy playing very well on a guitar with only 3 strings left.  The songs wailed themes related to violence, our children and when are we going to wake up.  I walked around the rotunda entrance and stood above him as he played below.  When he stopped, I yelled more. This encouraged him and he continued but he never looked up again to see if I was still there.

Two beautiful black girls about 8 and 10 were his only audience.  They passed earlier with their father who probably stood inside the entrance where I couldn't see him.  They started singing along, then moving to the music and finally dancing.  One ran inside and came back w a few coins.  Later their father came out and talked about music and Marley with the musician. 

Occasional others in the rotunda made cell calls to their family and friends explaining and arguing about being stranded in NY, making arrangements for the kids and other stuff of daily life.  A cop was working a 3rd shift and needed someone to pick up her kid.  Others couldn't make appointments.  It was amazing how many people were arguing with the person they were calling as if this problem was of their fault.

Eventually the girls' mother came and this holy family walked home after the father exchanged numbers with the musician.  No one else was around.  After a few more songs, the musician picked up the flute and tried to play something but his mouth seemed too dry.  He sat down again and picked up the guitar.

I walked around and down the stairs and sat down next to him.  He had a bible in front of him too.  I asked him why he did this.  He said because he feels it and because he has to.  He said if you stop to wonder you fall off the track.  I said I guess you don't like to respond to questions like this.  He said, I really don't understand what you are saying.   I said that's OK, gave him a couple of bucks and walked home.  The night was cool and empty of the usual city sounds.  Most stores that would be open at that time weren't.

It was too late to call Joey so I slept at the office.  When I called him this morning he said he was just hungry and had to leave.  He had gotten over yesterdays experience but didn't know if and when he would return to work.

This world is never going to be the same.

© 2001 by Peter Rossi.  All rights reserved.

Judith Sherven, Ph.D.
James Sniechowski, Ph.D.
http://www.thenewintimacy.com

September 12, 2001

The attack yesterday against the World Trade Center and the Pentagon have shaken Americans to the core. Not just because we live in the United States and have been made brutally aware that we are vulnerable to so unmerciful an attack. But also because the conscience of the world has once again been assaulted. Innocence has been ravaged. Dignity shattered. Rage elevated to the level of a god.

We first heard about what was happening as we headed to  Albany airport to catch a 12:30 flight to St Louis. We stopped at a photo lab on the way and a young woman at the counter told us,  "There's been a terrorist attack on New York City." Our minds froze at what we thought was a bizarre joke. But she only stared back. "All planes have been grounded."

We continued to the airport as radio reports confirmed the worst. We were in shock, Judith in tears. How could this be happening in our world, the world we've built and trust?

At Albany International, the wide passageways leading to the gates were empty. We watched reports from CNN on the overhead television and talked about our sense of powerlessness. There didn't seem to be anything we could do. And we knew that most people would be feeling the same way. It wasn't until our drive home that it became clear that there was much that could be done by each one of us. 

We all live, to one degree or another, with a fear and distrust of those who are not like us. We justify our fear by exalting what we believe is right and treat it as the absolute truth. Then we feel free to criticize those who are different, cast out those who are different, imprison those who are different, and, ultimately, kill those who are different, without ever questioning what we are doing. Get rid of the threat, that is all that counts.

At the root of all violence is the inability to tolerate differences.  And it is true for every one of us everyday.

When we feel contempt for someone who dresses differently than we think is appropriate.

When we snipe at someone because they have different values than we do.

When we talk behind someone's back or curse someone who we think is driving too fast or too slow.

Those are examples of little emotional terrorist attacks, both against other people and against ourselves because they are a denial of what is inescapably obvious about this life. We are all unique. We were created to be different from one another in many ways.

When we attack each other because we are different, we attack the very source and foundation of our existence. The abundant variety so evident in this life is proof of the glorious and unlimited creativity that we are all a part of.  When we presume to reduce everything and  everyone to our singular point of view we insult God, the Creator, the Divine Spirit. When we insist that our way is the only way and those who are not like us must be destroyed, we set ourselves up as the ultimate authority and that is madness. The same madness that drove the terrorist's responsible for yesterday's carnage and devastation.

So what can we do to meaningfully exercise our individual power and help the world convert this force of terror into an energy for community and co-existence? We must all learn to recognize, value and appreciate the differences between us.

As a walking, talking prayer, a daily act of practical spirituality,  make a commitment that when you catch yourself negating someone because he or she is different from you, you will stop yourself and ask what about the other person are you afraid of? What do you believe about yourself and/or the other person that leads you to feel threatened so that you have to, in some way, wipe the other person out? It is from a lifetime accumulation of the insults and injuries of emotional abuse that terror and rage retaliates with a need to kill.

Understanding one another's unique ways is the only real anti-terrorist weapon we have.

Fighting force with force is a necessary regulator. It is imperative that those responsible for this attack be found and summarily punished. No people can permit such ruthlessness to continue in any form.

However, if civilization is to ever bring an end to such indiscriminate violence, we must all learn to open ourselves to listen to the other, those people who are not like us. We have to do so with caution and self-protection. There is no need to be naive. But when we allow that  the other person's reality is as meaningful for her or him as ours is for us, we set the basis for transformative dialogue, an opportunity for real  listening, real understanding, and real communion of our differences. Once that opening is available, then it may take time, but if we are sincere, we will come to know one another, be changed by one another,
and grow through one another toward a mutual well-being that is not possible any other way. Only then can there be the peace we all so deeply desire and pray for.

© 2001 by Judith Sherven, Ph.D. and James Sniechowski, Ph.D.  All rights reserved.

Martin Brossman
E-mail:
Web site: www.toinquire.com

After the initial shock of the terrorist attack, I was thinking how deeply isolated, lost, and full of hate a man would have to be to justify committing or organizing such terrorist events as we have seen this week.

I was talking to strangers yesterday about their views on what happened. Most were just shocked but one man said that this showed us how you cannot feel safe anywhere anymore. I noted to him that this is perhaps a wake up call to embrace the preciousness and fragileness of life. A wake up call that we cannot take for granted even a moment. A wake up for the importance of enjoying the beauty and gifts of life, for it could be taken away in a flash or explosion. A wake up for us to stand up, speak up, and be more active for what we know needs to be changed in the world. A wake up that we can live our lives as though we make a difference. For to diminish our own lives, it gives the terrorists exactly what they want.

I think the best way to disrupt the false belief that I, as one man, cannot
actually make a difference in the world is by speaking, acting, and living as though I do. Many years ago I realized that I was never going to collect enough evidence that I could make a difference in the world, however, I decided that, independent of evidence, I was going to live my life as though I can make a difference. You cannot imagine how many things I have accomplished in the 10 years since I made that decision.

In this latest tragedy I am praying for the dead, the wounded, the families, and the souls that are obviously so lost that they could actually carry out such a terrible act as this. I hope we all will be moved to support our country in taking the most compassionate, thoughtful, and effective actions in response to this tragedy.

© 2001 by Martin Brossman.  All rights reserved.

Dale Leffler, Participating Advisor
Men-to-Men
Metuchen, NJ Friends

Men-to-Men Special Meetings Deal with the World Trade Center& Pentagon Tragedy.

There was a special meeting of the Men-to-Men Wednesday's Men's Discursion group dedicated to the sharing of all related feelings and thoughts to the WTC & Pentagon attacks. 

All the men were invited to speak from the place of " How as this event occurred for you."  This was an invitation for each of us to speak from a first person, present tense position. I reminded them that this was not a time for political or religious debates, yet an opportunity to share the sadness grief, horror, anger, despair and fear as well as any other feelings that occur.

Some men felt guilty at their sense of relief that it was not them. Some could only relate to the building, the landmark, the symbol, while others spoke of personal failings, of being unable to will the second tower not to crumble, crash with so many lives inside and all around the site trying to help.

Some men were confused, in shock or simple unwilling ( maybe unable) to speak from their immediate experience. Our meeting was a compassionate healing sharing of full acceptance for all. This topic spilled over into the next Wednesday's Men's meeting as well. The feelings are strong, and for some men, this is the only place to own it in words. By accepting and acknowledging what is so in the here and now.,allows for the examination of what meanings as men we were carry in this life. We get to hear ourselves as others do,  and from that place of external listening, thinking and feeling, chose to loving act or deny who we are.

My personal response:

My own owning of who I am, the truth I have within is this:
"Only hurting people hurt people, People who know hurt can help hurting people to heal."

As I was preparing this months’ article for a small newsletter, a world shattering event took place. Our nations icons were attacked and one demolished. The counties landscape forever changed by a brutal and heinous act of vengeance in the name of God.

Now, I do not want to editorialize here on any political or religious position, rather, to take this time and space to memorialize ALL the human suffering, the loss of life, the grief, bereavement, fear, loneliness and pain that has accompanied this enormous tragedy. I chose to speak out in support of life, in affirmations of heroic sacrifices made by the firefighters, EMT, Police and emergency workers who responded to the first call for help. To honor the brave caring humans who, in spite of known dangers, went into the battle zone to save lives of others. In doing so, lost theirs. I want to point out the BEST in our race, our willingness to be in harms way for others. Our desire to ease suffering, honor the reality of pain, acknowledge the risks of living for liberty. There are so many more loving, caring compassionate people who make the miracle of being alive happen with health and happiness for others than the few who reek havoc.

We are not in this world alone. We do not exist within a vacuum. We are connected to many, many people from the time we first open our eyes until we close them again. People who silently care about us in their own way. Please find them in your life and reach out to them. Maybe they are our neighbors, co-workers, in laws and riding friends. People on the internet who reach out and express concern for our local safety. What I am attempting to say here, is that, our pain, our loss need not force us to shy away from others. If we withdraw from liberty, from life, then those 10 little men with so much hate in their hearts along with their supporters have destroyed more than thousands of rich, full beautiful lives of mothers, dads, sisters brothers and friends along with symbols of capitalism. The dream of freedom, the glory of open unrestricted movement, the inalienable right to the pursuit of happiness, the very foundations of liberty have been destroyed. This need not happen. It is our choice to reach out to people who may seem different from us and open our hearts to the similarities, even if it’s painful. This reaching out for the other is an American Icon that must not be demolished. Yes, this is very, very sad event. Do not compound it with isolation, heal it with compassionate outpourings of acceptance & understanding of your pain and others. Please, Reach out. One last thing, Please give BLOOD!

© 2001 by Dale Leffler.  All rights reserved.

Grant Waldman
Toronto

Sept 11 started as a fairly typical morning in my office with the review of e-mail.  However, my day lept into a black hole in moments when my boss walked into my office and stated,"Did you hear what just happened?" Of course, knowing his weird sense of humour, I went along with him.  I said,"No, what happened?"  He then said,"Two planes have hit the WTC's!"  I looked at him with the: "Yeah right!" look.  His face was totally lifeless!  He did not know what to do.  He told me he was dead serious, as I followed him into his office to listen to the news on his radio.

I think that we all went into the Twilight Zone that day, and some of us have still not returned yet.  It is a horrible feeling to know that America is not invincible to outside attack!  It is horrible to know that educated people can turn into mass murderers like they did over 50 years ago!  Yes, history does constanly repeat itself!!

I fortunately, do not have cable, so the only images I have seen have been on the Net.  I do not envy anyone who has been plugged into the scenese over and over for days on end!  It has to eat away at one's soul!

All I can wish for all of us is that instead of fighting fire with fire, that we teach the world to be lovers and not fighters.  That we learn to embrace all races and creeds as our friends.  That we stop finger pointing and start embracing a peaceful tomorrow.

© 2001 by Grant Waldman.  All rights reserved.

Jed Diamond, Director MenAlive
Helping Men Live Long and Well
Web:  www.Menalive.com

Once I recovered from the initial shock of the attacks in New York and Washington, it occurred to me that it was likely that the hijackers were male and that those who planned the operation were male. I also believe that those who will be the main architects of our countries future actions will be male. I pray that those who decide on a response from the U.S. will have a greater level of compassion and maturity than the men who planned and carried out the attack on the U.S.

In my book, Male Menopause, I suggested that the absence of mature male elders in the lives of young men was one of the causes of "Monster Boy Masculinity." Monster Boys, like Peter Pans, never grow up. They often take out their pain and rage on anyone in power who seems to represent the success in life they feel they can never achieve. We all suffer the effects of monster boy masculinity in our schools, on our streets, and most recently in the air.

To understand the events of September 11, we also need to know something about mid-life male psychology. There are too many world leaders, with their lowered libidos, who want to stiffen their resolve by bringing other mid-life male leaders to their knees. Unfortunately it is the young men who are sent off to fight and the women and children who become "collateral damage."

In order to prevent further acts of violence we need to understand what causes men--men who once were little boys, just like us, who once had dreams of success, just like us, who wanted love and respect, just like us--to become mass murderers.

One significant insight is offered by James Gilligan, M.D., who has spent most of his adult career working with violent men. In his book, Violence: Our Deadly Epidemic and Its Causes, he says:

"I have yet to see a serious act of violence that was not provoked by the experience of feeling shamed and humiliated, disrespected and ridiculed, and that did not represent the attempt to prevent or undo this 'loss of face'--no matter how severe the punishment, even if it includes death."

The roots of this kind of violence seem to be in the hearts and minds of young men. Those who are poor, oppressed, and shamed have little to lose. In the Middle East these young men become instant heroes when they agree to the suicide missions. Their pictures are displayed. They instantly become men of respect. In the afterlife they are promised paradise along with 72 virgins, I presume, to have and to hold til...I guess eternity.

Wise elders will respond to monster boy masculinity by seeking to heal the causes while protecting us from their violence. We must each ask the elder within each one of us, what kind of response we want our government to make--one that creates more humiliation, shame, and rage or one that produces more understanding, compassion, and forgiveness.

© 2001 by Jed Diamond.  All rights reserved.

James A Sargent Ottawa
IT Consultant, Social Activist,
Elder-in-Training

Sunday, September 16, 2001
One step forward, or three steps back?

Wednesday last, my men's group met for the first time since breaking for the summer. We are a group of men who have met together for many years now. We have encouraged, challenged and supported one another through death, serious illness, the loss of relationships and jobs as well as marriages, graduations and the marking of life passages. Last meeting we sat in circle, bringing each other up to date on the happenings of our lives over the summer.

The events of Sept 11th in the US intruded on the personal with every man who spoke. One man spoke of a bullying problem his son had encountered on returning to school this fall. He and his family had chosen to engage a unique bit of grass roots peacemaking by inviting the bully to their home to play with their son. Twice he had refused, but he accepted the third invitation, and the bullying had stopped.

This led us to discuss the unlikely prospect of inviting these terrorists over to play. Which further led to discussions of some kind of non-violent response and on to the idea of living life from a place of vulnerability, of undefendedness. We decided to take this idea as a theme we would explore in our fall session.The airwaves are filled with ongoing talk of war, of reprisals, of hunting them down and making them pay. There are few voices offering alternatives. I have heard only one American politician, a Senator I believe, musing about "what have we done that would make someone hate us that much?"

The message from the pulpit this morning was one of tolerance and understanding, an openness to other faiths. The back lash we are seeing is reprehensible. My study and personal experience of growth and development leads me to believe that from the personal level to that of our species certain stages occur. The first being fusion where we are so unconsciously engaged in a concept that we are unaware of it. Then comes a time when we have some distance, some perspective from which we can identify and study that which had previously simply run our lives.

Once these steps have occurred, it is possible to move on, to transcend the current and become fused with some higher-level concept.  On and on it goes, the development of an individual, a society, a culture, a nation, a race, a species. Fuse, differentiate, transcend, a simple enough process.

I'm thinking we are at one of those points where transcendence is possible. As a species we have come a long way from the spiritual awe with which early mankind viewed the manifestations of God. Thunder and lightning, wind and rain, the movements of heavenly bodies were portentous and cause for great concern at the fusion stage.

We have differentiated the "god concept" in a myriad of ways, Muslim,
Christian, Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, and many others, all of whom believe that they and they alone, have got it right. Much blood has been shed and many lives have been lost to further these views.

I think we have been given an opportunity to transcend, to move up and beyond with the "god concept". The question is, is the world ready for this?

Is America ready or able? In order to ask that the Muslim terrorists to give up on the supremacy of their worldview, we have to be prepared to give up on the supremacy of ours. Can we do it? Can America do it? That's the question.

There are thousands and thousands of ways to kneel and kiss the earth.

© 2001 by James A. Sargent.  All rights reserved.

New York

Unintended Longing

I saw the terror and the pain and the fear, my heart heaved and I became.........jealous. Jealous!

Jealous of people who ran into burning buildings to save others.  Out of goodness.  Out of duty.  Out of a true and measurable commitment to others, and to God.  Facing certain death, firefighters ran into a hell that the rest of the world watched on television.  Everywhere people silently thanked God to be living and breathing far away from this pit of death.  And yet, I felt empty and wished I could change places with them.

I never wanted to fight fires.  I thought those people were crazy.  I let firemen go ahead of me in line at the grocery store, where they shop in Manhattan in groups (always buying dozens of onions, never figured out why), and offered to pay for their groceries.  I thought it was a nice thing to do, and good insurance.  Should I have a fire in my apartment, I want all the extra help I can get.  I thought these guys were brave, but pathetically clueless.  Why would anyone pass up a safe office job and instead choose to face down the horrors the rest of us hope never to see?  I work for lawyers. Some might argue that it is a dangerous living, but last I checked, we weren't dragging hoses around to cool down testy lawyers.

I rationalized that they were less afraid of fire than most people.  They had training, and understood the laws of its nature.  I was wrong.

The thing that these guys had over me all along was that they had accepted the challenge to live life, and learned not to be afraid of fire and passion and the general fear and messiness in life, and instead, had learned to embrace it.

Embracing the fire, dancing with it, hugging it means, fundamentally, being committed.  Committed to others.  To something beyond the safety of their own worlds.  They made the decision to live life with the highest purpose: to serve others.  To love others as much as or more than themselves.

The beauty of these men's lives was evidenced even more clearly by the stories told by their families. Picture after picture flashed on my television screen, men younger than me........their lives filled with wives and kids and mortgages and leaky pipes and never knowing when they could be off for the weekend..........all one massive commitment to loving someone outside of themselves.  Again, I felt jealous.  I have yet to meet my soulmate, and to think I have not committed myself to anyone or anything with the highest purpose left me bereft.

Unintended longing.  For a life lived at its highest purpose.  For the men who left the planet, and can no longer share with me the secrets of living a committed life.  Unintended longing to love and be loved.  Unintended longing to be closer to God in a way I am not sure I fully comprehend. Unintended longing for answers to questions great and small.  And as silly as it sounds, unintended longing for an answer as to what those damn onions were all about.

© 2001 by Carolyn A. Rumpf.  All rights reserved.

Tom Orr, Tucson, AZ.  
 

Here In Tucson, my partner Steve and I had just been awakened by the clock radio coming on.  News was playing, and the announcer stated that an airplane had flown into one of the World Trade Center towers. I bounded out of bed and turned on the TV, which is something that almost never happens around here.  And there were the most astonishing pictures I have ever seen..  Steve and I looked at each other and and wondered for a moment if this was a movie.  It didn’t take much to disabuse us of that idea.

As we were watching, we saw the second plane fly into view.  The view of WTC was such that the second tower was hidden behind the first.  We watched that plane fly behind the first tower, and then saw a ball of fire and smoke exploding from the second tower.  As if this weren’t enough, a few minutes later we watched both towers collapse and implode.  I will never forget that scene, and I will never forget the people who jumped from the buildings.

Another thing that stands out in my mind is the fact that the TV media ran those pix over and over again, which I thought was unnecessary.

One story which touched me, and which was shown on the Today show on Friday, 9/28, was the one of the group of seven firemen who were up in one of the towers, and had started down, only to encounter an older woman who was having great difficulty negotiating the stairs.  These seven men stayed with her and assisted her as best they could down many, many stairs.  They got to the 4th floor, and the woman said she could go no further.  Apparently just at that point, the building collapsed all around these folk.  They were actually able to get out of the building.  During the program, a picture was shown of that stairwell, now at ground level.  The landing they were standing on, and a bit of the stairs going up and down, were visible, and it was as if these people had been in a cage of safety.  That little bit of stairs was intact.   I guess just this past week, the woman arrived at the firehouse from which these man had come, and brought them a magnificent arrangement of flowers.  Both the men and the woman rejoiced to see each other, and they regard the other as guardian angel, and they all recognize that had they not found her, or had she not found them, all probably would have been dead.  When I saw this being told Friday morning, I was in tears because it touched me deeply.

There are many such wonderful stories.

One other thing I remember.  On September 11th, I left my office in down town Tucson to get some lunch.  As I was walking back to my office, I encountered a friend who asked me how I felt about what had happened.  At that time I was feeling angry, and I told my friend that I wanted to see those responsible for this killed and eliminated.  My friend, who is a therapist working with persons who have been tortured in the past, said he was surprised to hear me say that since I am a social worker.   I thought a lot about that later in the day, and did see that what I wanted to do was contrary to my usual values.  But, it took me a few days to begin to hear those voices who are calling for a much different sort of intervention, not one of violence and killing.  By now I have come full circle, and I pray that those who are in the decision-making positions will proceed with prudence, caution and caring, that there will be no response that would place the U.S. on the same level as the terrorists.   Just yesterday I was thinking of my therapist friend again, and suddenly it occurred to me that one’s social work values and practice knowledge should enable one to see that another’s first reactions to such an even might be angry, vindictive reactions.  And so now I know why I was distressed by my friends initial reaction to me.  I am not so fortunate as to see clearly through to the higher thoughts so quickly.  For me it is a process.  I am disturbed that my therapist friend did want me to have a process

I guess I felt his response as a put down.

On the day after the attack, on September 12, I was walking somewhere and suddenly a very warm feeling spread through my body, and with it came the thought that those who flew the planes, and all who assisted them, are, in fact, my brothers.  I have thought about that a lot, and it seems so clear to me that all people who dwell on this planet are my brothers and sisters.  As I heard a man say on NPR this past week, it wasn’t 6,000 people who died, it was one person who died 6,000 times.

Although I knew no one trapped in the WTC or the Pentagon, I have been, continue to be, deeply affected by what happened there.  I have felt quite a bit of depression which I think is still pretty much with me.

Again, thanks.  I hope this helps.  It has helped me to state it all again. It will probably have to be stated again and again, for a long time to come

© 2001 by Tom Orr.  All rights reserved.

Randall Larson-Maynard

The feeling was/is "heart-broken."

The radio news channel was detailing the fall of the towers (this was the first broadcast news I heard). I had been told a few minutes earlier, by my daughter's orthodontist, that the airports over the entire country where closed and a plane had hit the Trade Center.

The reality was trying to pry it's way into my consciousness. I was a few blocks from work now. THIS MUST BE A DREAM! The news getting more detailed. Both towers were down. The Pentagon was hit. A plane is missing over Pennsylvania.

I parked, went to my desk, grabbed a post-it note, and scrawled a note to my boss, "I feel heart-broken. Going home. Randall." As I stuck it to the monitor screen of his computer I was really feeling the weight of the feelings. I needed to be home with my wife and 4 month old daughter. My wife would not know, yet. I needed to be the one to tell her. She was born and raised on Staten Island and the surrounding area. She would need me to tell her.

I parked in my driveway, walked into the house, past the dog, into my bedroom. It was darkened by a blanket over the curtains to help my new daughter sleep in the mornings. The tears started to come quickly. I woke my wife and told her as best I could. She was stunned and shocked and disoriented. Much like I was.

My 15 year old daughter got her braces of that morning. That is what she will remember. My wife was to start a play group with her mother & baby friends from the neighborhood that morning. She cancelled it so that it would not be attached to this terrible day.

It was my birthday. My 39th. I will carry that moment with me forever. My birthday will always be somehow related. I did some math that morning. If around 50,000 people were in the buildings, somewhere near 140 people would also have birthdays that day. We put off "celebrating" for a few days. It was hollow, at best.

It is 21 days later as I write this. I cry some everyday. I remember. I will never forget.

© 2001 by Randall Larson-Maynard.  All rights reserved.

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