Where were you?


Where were you when the world stopped turnin'
that September day?
Out in the yard with your wife and children;
Or working on some stage in L.A.?
I was in Brasil, on a combined vacation / business trip. I was waiting to see a friend of mine, Ed, in the reception area of his office. The telephone rang, and was passed to me.
It was Nadia, speaking so fast I could barely make out what she was saying, Portuguese is not my first language and my skills were quite rudimentary at the time. I made out Uriel (her boyfriend in the States) and airplane and crash. Had Uriel been in a plane crash? What was going on? I passed the handset to Cintia, my interpreter, and asked her to talk to Nadia.
Cintia spoke with her for a few moments, and hung up the telephone. Then she said a few words to the receptionist, who in turn spoke with someone on the telephone. Quite confused at this point, I turned to Cintia and asked what was going on. Cintia's face was pale, and was visibly upset "Theres' something happening in the United States, you need to see" was all she would tell me.
The door to the inner offices opened jut then, and Ed appeared, gesturing for us to follow him. Down a short corridor, turn left and a few steps more we came to Ed's office. He ushered us into a conference room attached to his office. There was a 13' color TV mounted on the wall, and he told me to have a seat while he turned on the television.
Did you stand there in shock at the sight of that black smoke
Rising against that blue sky?
Did you shout out in anger in fear for your neighbor
Or did you just sit down and cry?

The television came on and I saw it. Smoke and flames pouring out of one of the towers. My God! What happened? The commentary was in Portuguese. I could barely understand it. The camera changed to another view, and I saw the second plane hitting the second tower. What the hell is going on??? They kept showing it over and over and over. I saw what looked like people falling/jumping, I couldn't tell. It was hard to breathe. Then the first tower crumbled. Images of people running. The second tower fell. More people fleeing. A cloud of dust chasing them
I am in shock. I cannot move.

Did you weep for the children
that lost their dear loved ones?
Did you pray for the ones who don't know?
Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
and sob for the ones left below?
They kept playing the footage of the second plane crashing into the tower. They kept showing images of people leaping to their deaths. They kept showing the terror stricken faces of the survivors. ENOUGH! I turned the television off.
Did you burst out in pride for the red white and blue
And the heroes who died just doin' what they do?
Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer?
And look at yourself for what really matters?

I left Ed's office a short time later, and spent the afternoon at his mothers home, a very beautiful home nestled in the hills. I met new people, one man showed me furniture he makes from scrap pieces of granite and marble. I took some pictures of the tables he had made, but couldn't really appreciate the beauty. My heart was like a stone.
There were children in her home, grandchildren of hers, and I managed to keep up my friendly facade while around them. I played with the children, allowing them to lead me off into one of the fields to pick berries from one of the many fruit trees surrounding the house. The children showed me how to pop the black fruit into my mouth, suck out the juice and spit out the bitter skin and seed. Seeing the innocence in their faces, I silently prayed they would never endure the horror I had witnessed.
Later I went to an even more remote location, to see a house made completely from stone. Nestled in a small valley at the end of a small lake and surrounded by banana palms and coffee bushes sits this wonderful little house. It's a two bedroom house and obviously hand made. The walls were all made from rocks fitted together with cement to bind them together. There was no ceiling, only the roof; high and seeming to be suspended above the house itself. It was supported by massive rafters that appeared to be hewed from single trees and formed into the frame supporting the roof.
Cintia and Estevan left me alone for a short time, and allowed me some time to reflect on what I had witnessed earlier on the television. I have friends who live and work in Manhattan. One of them works in one of the towers. I don't know which one. Does it matter? He's probably dead.
How many of my friends and loved ones had I lost over the years? Too many. I thought back to the past, this one shot in St. Croix; that one in a hit and run accident; the seven that went died when their fishing boat capsized; the one I had seen shot in a drive by shooting in Washington, DC; my father dying in my arms even as I gave him CPR; Wendy's seizure and death that remained unexplained; the four in Alaska Air Flight 261. There were more, but I couldn't bear to think of them as well. There was a bench made from a boulder that had been shaped and smoothed sitting at the edge of the lake. I found my self sitting on that bench, weeping uncontrollably. Why? God tell me why!

Where were you when the world stopped turning
That September day?
Teaching a class full of innocent children;
Driving down some cold interstate?
Did you feel guilty 'cause you're a survivor
in a crowded room did you feel alone?
Did you call up your mother and tell her you love her?
Did you dust off that bible at home?

I sat there, weeping and telling God how unfair it was that so many had died, and yet I had remained unscathed my entire life. My one sided conversation continued until my weeping subsided, and it began to lightly rain. Cintia came to me telling me we needed to go, if the rain got worse, we could be stranded here without a way to return to town. I wiped the tears from my face and followed her back to our car.
She asked me if I was OK. I had to think about it before I answered. I was OK, I was in pain, but I was OK. We returned to the city, and I returned to the home of the friends I was staying with and promptly went to bed, exhausted and mentally drained.

Did you open your eyes hope it never happened;
And close your eyes and not go to sleep?
Did you notice the sunset the first time in ages;
Or speak to some stranger on the street?
Did you lay down at night and think of tomorrow;
Go out and buy you a gun?
Did you turn off that violent old movie you're watchin'
And turn on "I Love Lucy" reruns?

I woke several hours later, to the sounds of the television in the salon. GLOBO was highlighting the tragedy on their nightly Jornal. I emerged from my room, and sat to watch. It hadn't been a dream. It was a living nightmare, and I was watching it being replayed again and again. The Jornal ended, and a regular television show began.
Augusto wanted to go out to Beira Rio and socialize, but I couldn't bring myself to go that evening. Instead, I asked my hosts if they had access to US broadcasts, I knew they had SKY (the Brasilian counterpart to DISH) and Augusto tuned their satellite to catch CNN. After setting up the television for me, they quietly departed for the evening.
The nightmare got worse. Not only were there 2 planes hijacked and forced to crash into the towers, a third plane had crashed into the Pentagon, and a fourth had crashed somewhere in Pennsylvania. I watched CNN for two hours that night, until I couldn't stomach another replay of the second plane hitting or the towers crashing to the ground, or the destruction of the Pentagon, or the site in Pennsylvania.
Did you go to a church and hold hands with some strangers?
Stand in line and give your own blood?
Did you just stay home and cling tight to your family
Thank God you had somebody to love?

I went to bed that night with a profound sense of loss inside my soul. I had once again survived tragedy, and more than likely friends of mine had not. In the coming days, I managed to come to terms with what had happened, and returned to my happy go lucky demeanor that everyone who knows me has come to expect of me.
Terrorism was responsible for the attacks... People asked me how I felt about that. I told them "Hell hath no fury like a pissed off America." When the name Osama bin Laden came up, and I was asked about him, I said the same thing.
The remainder of my trip to Brasil was spent traveling around, negotiating business deals and making more friends. When I went to Rio, I wept again. This time because of all of the billboards I saw proclaiming Brasil's sorrow over the tragedy. Pictures of Cristo (the statue of Christ overlooking Rio de Janeiro) with the saying Brasil weeps with the United States.
It's been a little over two years since the world stopped turnin' that September day, my life has changed. Most Americans lives have changed. A friend of mine who was an avid traveler, had visited 12 countries and flown countless times across the United States told me not too long ago that she is afraid to fly now. She's one of many that feel this way today. On this count, Osama won a small victory.
When we go to the airport today, we stand in long lines waiting for our security checks, and bag searches once random are now expected. Score one for terrorism? No, the security may be late in coming, but it didn't cost me my freedom. If anything, the security checks affirm my freedom.

I'm just a singer of simple songs;
I'm not a real political man
I watch CNN, but I'm not sure I can tell you the difference
in Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith, Hope and Love are some good things He gave us
And the greatest is Love.

I'm just a teller of tales. I'm not a political person, although I am a Patriot.
I used to watch CNN almost religiously, and I've always known the difference between Iraq and Iran. Now, I find it OK for a few minutes occasionally. My experience on 9/11 makes me shy away from the brutally in depth hashing and rehashing of tragedy.
The Taliban has been toppled in Pakistan, yet the mastermind behind 9/11 remains free. He continues to teach hate. And his followers continue to die for him. We've managed to topple a second regime in the last year, Saddam Hussein will never again be able to wield life and death over the Iraqi people again. Score another one for the good guys.
It's taken some pretty hard dings, but I have still faith in my fellow man.
I have hope that someday justice will be brought to those who are behind the tragedy of 9/11.

If the people of our world would embrace the Love that is taught in the Bible, Koran, Torah and countless other spiritual and religious doctrines, I believe the world would be a much better place. Altruistic? Maybe. Idealistic? Probably. Possible? I think so.
Do you find yourself angered or uncomfortable around someone who looks different, is from a different culture, has a different skin color or practices a different religion than you? WHY?


Where were you when the world stopped turnin' that September day?