I published this at the No Depression website on the tenth anniversary of 9/11. Living in California at the time, I was inspired to write it after listening to a favorite song of mine. You know it too…John Prine’s ‘Hello In There’. As much as it’s about growing older, for me it also represents the stories of those that passed away too soon.  It’s curious that this past year has seen Prine release his biggest selling album,  going out on a long tour that sold out at every stop and receiving accolades far and wide. I saw him perform for the first time right before last Christmas and he was sharp and spry, literally dancing across the stage at the end of the night. He sang that song I like,  and as usually the case when I hear it, I cried a bit. It used to be about old folks, now it’s about me. And maybe you, too. 

My mom will turn ninety next month and my sister has been going through boxes in her basement looking for old photographs. She found the one above just last week, and mom is on the right looking very fashionable while standing with her Uncle Alfred and Aunt Tiny on the roof of the Empire State Building. I think it must be sometime in the late thirties before the second world war started, and it looks so peaceful and calm so far up in the air.  That this was found just days ahead of the tenth anniversary of what we simply call 9/11 was not lost on me.

For the second time in as many years, yesterday I learned that an old friend, someone I’ve known and cared about, died. I’m used to seeing social media reminders that this or that musician was either born or died on this date, and we’ll watch a video, say nice things about them and move on with our lives. News about people you really don’t know personally is just that…news. But when you find out a person you’ve spoken with, shared time together with, broken bread with, laughed and cried with has passed on, it’s a very different experience. It’s hard.

Throughout the past week my fifteen year old German exchange student and I have sat on the couch together in front of the television and watched many of the special broadcasts about 9/11. She was just  five when it happened, and seemed as interested to learn about that day as I was in trying to forget about it. It’s been many moons since I’ve watched the footage of the planes smashing into the Towers, the dust storm as they fell, the people searching for survivors, the doctors and nurses waiting to treat the sick and injured who never showed up. Three weeks after the attacks I stood at Ground Zero and ten years later I can still smell of death.

Last night down in Florida there was a Republican presidential primary debate, hosted by the Tea Party people. I didn’t watch it, as I’m not interested in the venom they spew and the hate they peddle. It was reported in the news that when the talk turned to health care issues and a question was asked about what you do with a sick and uninsured person…do you let them just die…several in the crowd yelled “Yeah!”. Not one single candidate spoke out against that “Yeah!”…and they’re not ashamed of it and they don’t give a shit. Just let ’em die.

As we remember the lives lost on 9/11,  we also think of those that are slowly dying today due to the after effects of toxic exposure. I imagine that survivors, family members and loved ones who’ve lost someone must think of those final moments over and over in their heads every night as they lay in bed. And often I think of the indescribable pain suffered on the nights and days after 9/11 as they hopefully waited for husband, wife, son, daughter, relative or friend to come back home.

My mom will be ninety next month. I’ll be flying into New York in about ten days to visit with her and my family. My sister and I will drive her down the turnpike to Philadelphia where we grew up and lived for much of our lives, and visit the grave of my father. Maybe we’ll drive by our old house on the way back. The next day I’ll take the train alone into Manhattan to visit Ground Zero . And as I fly back to California, when I pass over Ohio, I’ll look down and remember my old friend who died too young.

Postscript: A lot has changed since then, a lot hasn’t. My wife and I divorced the year after, the boys and I moved to New York, the exchange student I mentioned  went back home to Germany (she turned twenty-four this week) and many of my friends and family have passed on. Mom’s not with us anymore, and if you’re a believer she’s in a batter place with dad, the love of her life. If you two are looking down or listening in, I just wanted to take a moment and say…hello in there.