I got “the Call” from my housemate Susan, who was at work early, telling me to turn on the TV. With so many of you, I watched in horror as the second plane hit, as the first tower, then the second one, fell. In a kind of endless chain letter, I made a few calls of my own: “Turn on the TV. . . .” And for the next couple of hours, I continued to watch, mesmerized, sending my prayers to the dying, the fleeing, the soon-to-be-grieving, knowing in some way that this would change everything.
Finally, an inner voice told me to turn off the TV, to stop watching the towers fall again and again and again, as the images played out over and over and over. Go out. Get some fresh air. Take in the beautiful September day. Get the dogs out for their morning walk. Get away from the repeating loop of horror.
So midmorning we headed out the door, my two golden dogs eager as ever for their by-now late walk, and me not realizing how young and full of energy they still were. The sky was an achingly beautiful cornflower blue. The fresh clarity of the breeze spoke of the coming fall, while the bright sun warmed us and birdsong reached us from all directions. A fine September day, as fine as the East Bay can dish up. I breathed deeply, taking in the reality that here, at least, all was well.
As we rounded the corner heading the short block toward Telegraph Avenue, I saw my next-door neighbor striding quickly across the wide street. As he drew nearer, I expected the same shell-shocked expression I’d encountered on the faces of a few others I’d passed. Instead, he was wearing a huge, incongruous grin. He must not have heard the news, I thought to myself.
“I’m a father!” he proudly proclaimed, as he told me his baby girl had been born two hours before at the hospital just a couple of blocks away. He was heading home after a long night to change his clothes, to make a few calls.
“Congratulations! How wonderful! Congratulations!” I smiled back at him. My news could wait. His joy deserved the fullness of its moment. All was indeed well on this fine September morning as I filled my lungs with clear, fresh air.
And I will never forget his beaming face.