Recollections of Sept. 11, 2001

   This week's special blog entry was delayed mostly because someone in Research egregiously missed deadline and — though pleading for mercy — was flogged mercilessly.

                  Photo by Dennis L. Edmiston

   It was a crisp, bright September day nearly ten years ago.
   Dr. Nameless and I had begun our trek toward the Charles Bridge in Prague when this photo of your author was snapped. I was getting ready to hand over some cash to a woman I didn't even know {wait a minute} … ahem … I was about to purchase tickets to a concert of Vivaldi and Mozart for that evening.
   Prague is undeniably one of the best cities in the world for music. It seems every night around every corner you can hear all variety of music wafting down the narrow cobblestone passageways. {One night I followed some slightly recognizable tune to reach a choir of about 30 Czechs belting out Stevie Wonder’s I Wish — in Czech!! One of the damnedest things I ever witnessed. [How did they translate ‘nappy’?]}
   But back to our story; armed with our concert tickets The Doktor and I made our maiden march to the Vltava River, picking up some nice glass paintings and a few wood and wicker knick-knacks before heading back to the hotel for some rest and refreshment.
   I was in my adjoining room when I heard the Doktor call out, “Turn on CNN!”
   “What the hell,” I thought, "I didn’t come to Europa to watch any TV." But, I found the remote control and eventually CNN.
   And then I saw it ... the World Trade Center with massive smoke pouring out of it.
   I rushed into The Dok’s room. “They say it’s terrorists, probably Osama bin Laden and they flew planes right into the towers. Some of these guys were from Hamburg,” he reported. We’d spent three riveting days in Hamburg not a week earlier and had developed a real love for the place.
   I watched the skyline horror for a bit longer until I couldn’t watch any more; it was too depressing.
   I went back to my room, flopped onto the bed and let my mind race a bit. I didn't have or need to know all the facts at that point. The World Trade Center had been a target before, but this was incredible.
   Hours later I would numbly walk the streets, finally entering a small, cozy bar just to be near some people; I just needed to be near some people.
    I sat at the bar and struck up a ‘conversation’ with Pavel, an ex-Rooski military fella who had stayed behind after The Curtain fell (I came to learn later). He spoke no English and that was fine by me. We swapped cigarettes and bought each other beverages.
   Soon, a multilingual friend of his, Petra, showed up and the talk inevitably turned to the day's events. I made some very close friends that night and will always cherish their compassion and kinship. The Czechs are a fascinating bunch: they are extremely friendly and warm and yet curt and deeply sardonic in the next moment.

                   

   On Sep. 12, der Dok and I headed on a pre-arranged haj to one of the weirdest places on Earth — the ossuary in Kutna Hora. It is a sacred Catholic mecca that is filled with human bones.
   Spooky and yet oddly peaceful, I can’t do justice to the mix of emotions that crawl through your body while inside what feels like a cave. In the photo to the right, note that those are all skulls piled up in the background.
   By the time we got to Vienna it was Sept. 14, and you could sense the tension in the city. We stayed at the Hotel Maria Theresia in a rather threadbare section of the city where the streets were a tad more dodgy that we had anticipated.
   Following an awe-inspiring traipse through St. Stephen’s Cathedral, we wandered into a small art gallery on a side street just to see what was going on.
   Wow.
   More death imagery; none like I had ever seen before. The featured show was about 30 works of the Austrian graphic artist Alfred Kubin {I’m thinkin' MAJOR mommy issues here} which were horrific and compelling and I simply had to own a print of his work.

                                    

   Unfortunately, the print I was most interested in was unavailable. They had only one print for sale, Der Krieg (The War) [left].
   My wife doesn’t care for it and I can understand why. I am fascinated by it and I can understand why.
   What intrigues me the most is that the showing must have been planned before Sept. 11, making the one print they decided to centerpiece chillingly prescient.
   The rest of the trip went rather smoothly. We couldn't come home even if we wanted to because all the flights were canceled or backed up for a week, so we just continued on our path, touching base back home through email.
   It seemed like I was finally able to exhale once we reached the solitude of the Alpen-encrested Königssee on Sept. 18, for a few days [although (again weirdly) that's where Hitler would go to 'unwind' {aaaak!}]. The Berchtesgaden area is stunningly pristine with fresh, fir-scented air and clear, perfect water.
   Ending our sojourn where we began in Amsterdam we prepped for our Sept. 22 departure. We knew we were heading back to a scarred homeland, full of angst and a deep understanding that we were entering into a new 'normal' but unsure what exactly that would entail.
   I still feel that way.
   I would like to invite readers of this entry to post a brief description in the comments section of where you were when The Towers were hit and what was your initial reaction.