It's impossible to forget what a beautiful day it was ten years ago when the terrorists attacked. I was already at work at the church office, working on the Sunday bulletin, when the minister walked in and mentioned that a plane had just struck the World Trade Center. We both surmised it was a small place like the one that had hit the Empire State Building years ago, but he wanted to make sure so he walked back to his house next door to see what else was going to unfold. Of course he came back in short order with the news that another plane had struck and the news was buzzing with words like "terrorism" and "war". It was shocking to say the least, and my mind immediately went to my children and where they all were. One was living in Pennsylvania, another attending college, the others were here in East Hampton and I worried about them all. When disaster strikes we think first about the people we love.
Within the hour we had gone in to full "ministry" mode (this was the church, after al!) and had opened the church doors wide for anyone who wanted to come pray. The minister was busy on the phone with the other clericus, planning a service for that evening to provide a place for the community to gather in their grief. It was a quickly thrown-together affair and he asked if I could sing something, which of course I agreed to, imagining there would be twenty or thirty people there. After all, how would anyone even know about it? I left work at 1:00 and went about my day, listening to the television when I could, picking up my son at school and taking him to a doctor's appointment. Life was going on as though nothing had happened, but there was a pall over the world. It was palpable - a sadness and a fear of the unknown.