9-11 Reminders Intrude Where We Least Expect Them

By GREGORY J. RUMMO
THE HERALD NEWS, JANUARY 6, 2002

              THE MORNING OF the last day of 2001 dawned as bright and as cold as a transparent crystal of ice. A dazzling yellow sun burned through a cloudless azure sky from sunrise to sunset. Despite the temperature being 18 degrees that morning, it actually felt warm on south and west facing hillsides.

It was a day reminiscent of September 11, when many people who worked in New York City remarked they could see for miles from the upper floors of the taller buildings.

On this last day of the year, I decided to go for a hike. There is a network of trails which stretches for miles starting a mere three blocks from my home. These paths intertwine with each other through the hills and the valleys of lower Highlands. There are lakes with flocks of wintering Canada geese and smaller water birds like hooded mergansers and wood ducks. There are even beaver lodges, set deeper into the hidden recesses of the forest, in the ponds and swamps that dot the rolling hills.

The woods are always a quiet place, providing a contemplative setting where I can sort things out for hours without being disturbed. I hiked at least once every week last year; through every weather scenario imaginable.

Usually I move along at a pretty good clip, covering the seven-mile route in as short a time as a little less than two hours.

But today’s hike was different. Today, I decided to take my time.

The first mile took me up the steep, rocky trail to approximately 950 feet in elevation. I realized I was dogging it by the relaxed tempo of my breathing. I am usually sucking wind when I reach the summit, but not today.

There’s a scenic overlook at the top from which one can see the New York City skyline. The leafless trees combined with the clear air to reveal a stunning view of lower Manhattan, sans the Twin Towers.

I stopped for a moment to silently contemplate the void in the vista that lay several tens of miles to my east. And then I noticed that I was not the only one to have stood in this place while sensing this great loss.

Stapled to a brown broomstick stuck in the ground was a laminated plastic sheet into which had been placed an American flag, a photograph of lower Manhattan and this three-paragraph message:

“Oh say can you see…From this site, before Sept. 11, 2001, you had a clear view of the World Trade Towers. I never took a photo from this vantage point as I probably deemed the view too commonplace. Like others, I never in a million years thought they’d be gone. I offer this picture in its stead, taken from the water.”

“Pause here, dear hiker, for just a moment and remember the thousands who perished that day before our eyes. Remember also that on that day—A Nation United.”

“America will never have quite the same view again—either literally from here or figuratively. But it will always be the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave. Thank God you are standing here under these spacious skies on this mountain.”

A sign in the middle of the woods—my woods—thrust into the ground in the middle of a granite outcropping is not something I expect to stumble upon.

These subtle reminders of nine-eleven crop up now and then in the most unlikely places, catching us off guard, intruding into our lives when we least expect them. Every time I encounter one, I relive the events of that day in my mind and I find myself becoming sad and then angry all over again.

Anger, as long as it’s of the “righteous indignation” variety is a good thing. We must however guard against allowing our fallen nature, inherent in us all, to let that anger mutate into bitterness or something worse—hatred.

During 2002, I think it would be a good idea if we all took some time every day to pause and pray for our country. Support is nice but our prayers offer something more substantive. While you're at it, how about dusting off that copy of the Bible on your bookshelf and committing to read a passage on a regular basis? And lastly, let's remember to thank God that we can stand under these spacious skies in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave. n

E-mail the author at GregoryJRummo@aol.com