9/11 ON MY MIND

(Originally published Thursday, September 11, 2008)

Stevie Wonder's "Living for the City" was the perfect depiction of one of my favorite places to visit. It was just as I had envisioned; sky scrapers, city lights, crowded streets, taxi cabs, street vendors, Broadway theatres and everything. My first visit in no wise betrayed me. I felt at home. My mom, rest her soul, would have had a caniption had she known I was out walking the streets of New York City looking for a deli and a slice of cheesecake at 12 midnight. My friends, who are natives, seem to think I fit right in and that the only thing that possibly gave me away was my inability to fold "a slice" (pizza) in half and eat it the way a true New Yorker would have. I was scoffed at. I felt kind of greedy doing it that way since it seemed to me that the pizza would last longer if I ate it piece by piece without doubling it, but what the heck do I know... I'm from California. They acted as if this was a cardinal sin, and that I had no pizza eating etiquette whatsoever. When in Rome do as the Romans.

The third week of February 2003 was an exciting one for me. By this time, I had been to the Big Apple several times, knew how to fold my pizza, how to walk fast in the streets, but had not yet mastered dodging between cars. I had just concluded an interview at CBS, and was preparing to catch up with other artists before that evening's event, and I was feeling just great. My friends were laughing and kicking up dust when we began slowing the car down before coming to a red light. From the front I hear, "There it is, Eartha." Seemed like the world stop turning as I glanced over to my left to see a big empty space and a black tarp over an adjacent building; sort of the way darkness shadowed over aching hearts. I innocently asked "The World Trade Center?" There was no answer. By this time, we were all choked up and speechless.

How can one be in a moment of bliss and suddenly descend into nothingness within seconds? Such is life. I felt my heart accelerating and an unspeakable heaviness in my chest. I could not constrain myself as an overwhelming sea of synthesized emotions stirred within.

It was unfathomable to think that I was just a few feet away from a location for which I have no true description. It is sacred and silent, barren yet beautiful, for there are remnants of grace in tragedy.

I have not had the opportunity to visit any of the other memorial sites, but my humanity has taken me there many times over the years, and I make no haste to return (from them), as I believe it is essential to allow the recollection of these events to tarry before us a while, lest we permit them to fade (away). And that would be an extraordinary offense.

Remembering that day, the hurt of one New Yorker was the hurt of us all, and the loss of one was all of our loss. My heart was broken on September 11, 2001, when "Ground Zero" was formed. America was wounded after a sudden crash darkened our New York skies several years past. There was debris, burnt paper, broken glass, and a black cloud hovering over a fierce inferno. Tearful eyes were searching for life: friends, sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, husbands, and wives. The intense sobbing of our brothers and sisters, who pleaded with everyone to help them find their loved ones, filled the streets of lower Manhattan. Some wailed at the news that their family members didn't make it or had not been found. Others courageously offered themselves as shields to cover the young. To make matters worse, phones were disabled and communication lines were down. There was no question we were together in this plight. There was no difference among the young, old, Latino, Asian, Black, or White. All faces looked the same, a shade of gray ash and pain. Seven years have passed, and the grounds are prepared for new building structures and repairs. I'd like to take this day to commemorate those who are no longer here.