September 17, 2001

Tragedy brings out the best and the worst in us. Always has; always will.

Once the numbness wears off, a surge to jump in and help activates many, while the overwhelming pain or anguish can cause others to lash out in hate.

Pull together to make it better or throw stones in anger to cause more suffering -- those seem to be the only choices we have when it comes to surviving adversity.

But there's one more classification among the victims (and you'd better believe that while we may not all carry tangible injuries, we're all victims during this time of unsettled confusion, nonetheless).

I'm talking about those of us who fall "outside the loop" -- the ones paralyzed by numbness and fear.

We're the ones glued to TV sets and radios, the ones grabbing up newspapers with sensational headlines to try and make sense out of what's happening. We're also the ones hoarding bread and milk and filling every available container we own with gas.

None of us choked on acrid smoke or felt the rain of concrete debris. We weren't buried beneath tons of steel beams. We didn't feel the searing heat of blazing aircraft wreckage. But the same emotions loosed in those who bore the brunt of this terrorist attack have been loosed in us, as well.

So what do you do with those feelings of helplessness and anguish and fear? How do you cope with the sorrow and the suffering and the pain? How do you deal with the heart-stopping video footage replaying over and over and over?

Are you among those lining up for blocks to give blood, or do you shake an angry fist, calling for immediate military retribution?

Have you told the people closest to you how much they mean to you, how very much you love them, or are you taking your animosity out on anyone who happens to have a swarthy appearance, regardless of his real allegiance?

I must tell you that I not only felt "outside the loop" on Sept. 11th, but I felt completely cut off from the rest of the world, because I'd spent the entire day traveling south toward eastern Tennessee, with nothing but a cantankerous radio (which operates only when you bang on it with the heel of a shoe at just the right trajectory) to keep me abreast of the day's unfolding calamities.

Heading for long-awaited R & R, I found myself at a complete loss.

"How can I possibly continue on so selfish a course, when so many others suffer such incomprehensible devastation?" I asked my travelin' dog Roxy.

"Shouldn't I be feeling something more than shock here?" I thought to myself guiltily, with no trace of a single tear in sight.

"And why in blazes does this crazy radio keep cutting out every time there's something new to report?" I asked, banging on it again with aforementioned shoe.

By the time I reached my campground in the heart of Kentucky's western mountains -- far from the reach of any strong radio signal (the only kind my ailing radio can hone in on) -- my separation from the world felt complete.

Nothing for me to do but carry on -- and pray.

Before I knew it, I found myself shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

Funny thing, tears. They empty the body's chemical cauldron, they unleash emotions to bathe the soul with a cleansing release so we can carry on.

And carry on we must. Because that's exactly what these terrorists wish us NOT to do. Their purpose is to paralyze us -- to bring us to our knees, so to speak.

So go forward we must, hour by hour, day by day, week by week, to keep life moving ahead -- not in fear, but in hope and in faith and in confidence.

We must remain healthy and strong so we can deal with the events as they continue to unfold.

And, yes, we must go to our knees (although not in the way those terrorists had hoped) to pray for our country, for our leaders and for each other.

Isn't it ironic, how rather than immobilize us down here, those terrorists have managed to rally and strengthen us instead?

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