Xeni:
When I turned NPR on this morning and didn't hear Dick Estelle's Bookshelf, I knew something was terribly wrong because, as often as I've wished for it, nothing but nothing has ever preempted the froggy recitations of Dick Estelle. A man who was not Dick Estelle said something about a passenger plane flying into the Pentagon and two into the World Trade Center, and it seemed too unreal, too much some special effects nerd's wet dream ("We'll have a plane. No, wait--two planes! And we'll crash them into the World Trade Center!) to be true. I turned on my small tv, and there found terrible (if still surreal) confirmation of the NPR story. I tried calling New York, afraid for friends, for friends of friends, for people I don't know or know barely (I worked in one of the towers for a couple of weeks, doing secretarial stuff for a firm that specialized in, of all things, catastrophe insurance, and, oh, those poor, poor people; I pray they got out alright).
As grateful as I feel today to be living in a state that isn't ranked high by terrorists in iconic value, I wish that I could be closer to the people I care so much about. Because I can't right now, please email. And please, please be well.
| Iowa | 9/11 |
