Cattails in the fall

We took a family walk this week along the bike trail. The trees are turning, leaves are beginning to fall and the cattails, oh those cattails are blooming. The sight of them to the right of me with my family strolling in front of me brought me back to 1984, the muddy grounds of the Warren County airport underfoot, holding onto my mother's hand as we maneuvered the landscape in search of the perfect spot to watch the hot air balloons rise around us. The cattails were blooming then too and as we walked I remember her telling me an intricate tale about cats (I was obsessed with all things kitten) and that maybe, just maybe we could snip one of those cattails to take home. Later that morning the four of us sipped hot cocoa at a diner and in my 8 year old mind life was simply perfect.

For most of my childhood I believed that every kid lived in a two story home with a mom, a dad and a sibling. I also assumed every kid had two sets of grandparents, both of them quite different, but both equally loving. I thought every mom scoped out the clouds to find pictures in the sky, could draw like a real artist (this came in handy for book reports) and knew how to make a killer cake. All dads were strong military men, intensely honest and community oriented, but were also soft as teddy bears. Naive I know, this ideal world I lived in.

The balloons will be flying high all about us this week with the cattails blowing in the breeze and picturesque story filled clouds overhead. I hope Luke and Ellie remember these purely ideal moments of what it is to be a family. The simple hand-holding and discovery. The sharing of a warm drink on a cool morning complete with muddy boots and an afternoon nap. Sweet perfection.

September 14, 2001 to September 3, 2009

The date was Friday, September 14, 2001. I found myself in Manhattan's Union Square amidst a sea of protesters and peace-loving folk as fighter jets flew overhead and smoke still smoldered to the south. I was torn. Longing to be part of something during this scary time, missing my family and the comfort and security of a small town I clung to whatever it was I could. However at this moment, three days afterward, I just wasn't ready for peace. If I had lost someone that day I really wouldn't have been ready for forgiveness. In those moments I tried, under that crisp, clear, beautiful blue sky I stood there and cried, I was speechless. The world was spinning, but I was standing still. I watched the protesters in slow motion chanting and waving their signs as I looked down Broadway to Ground Zero. As the daughter of a Naval Master Chief and the sister of a fireman, my heart was with the military, the firemen, their families and the grieving. It all seemed like a twisted movie.

My office building was a shrine to the missing. Armed guards stood on both ends of our block as our building was attached to the Lexington Street Armory where they were sending family members of the missing. Candles and notes, pictures and teddy bears, flowers and poems were taped up covering a huge portion of the building. It was eerily sad to see those faces looking at you everyday and to read the handwritten notes.

My mom was the first person I called when it happened. The relief in her voice was one I hope to never have to experience as a mother. My father told me that night that he was going to drive down and bring me home but I refused. The next day he and I had a long phone conversation about faith, hope and love and I remember both of us crying. We cried so hard we made each other laugh.

I've lost touch with some of the people whom took me under their wing that fateful day. My mom called to thank them which I remember being embarrassed by, but I get it now. Misunderstandings seemed so trivial then and easier to get through, but I guess time marches on now.

I remember looking out the kitchen window of my apartment which looked into the living room of an apartment across the way where I saw a family huddled together playing Scrabble. It was incredibly heartwarming but it also left me in with a heavy heart for that is what I longed for in those moments.

That weekend, just as I had ventured to the peace demonstration with my roommate she ventured to Catholic church with me that Sunday. I needed a dose of normalcy, of some routine that felt comfortable while to her it was I'm sure more of an experience. The closing song was God Bless America, as I sang the tears came once again, my voice barely able to crack a note as my throat was in one big knotty lump.

Yesterday I had to run a few errands for work and as I walked to the car I heard God Bless America played through the church bells. The sky was as blue and beautiful as that Tuesday. The bells stopped me in my tracks, transporting me back to those moments. I looked around at my city, at what I've been able to contribute, at the car with our two car seats in the back and I smiled. I am so lucky to be here, to have this life, and my God am I blessed.

Those dark days will never leave my memory but I have come through it all to realize those dreams and to create the life I longed for.

Ironically as I drove through my beloved and longed for East End of Glens Falls I heard this song and the tears, they came again. I will never forget, I will always remember and honor those days.

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day
Out in the yard with your wife and children
Working on some stage in LA
Did you stand there in shock at the site 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

Did you weep for the children
Who lost their dear loved ones
And 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

Did you burst out in pride
For the red white and blue
The heroes who died just doing what they do
Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer
And look at yourself to what really matters

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

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
Did you open your eyes and hope it never happened
Close your eyes and not go to sleep
Did you notice the sunset the first time in ages
Speak with 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 watching
And turn on "I Love Lucy" reruns
Did you go to a church and hold hands with some stranger
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'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 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

The greatest is love
The greatest is love

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day