Gathering Places
Gathering Places
THE FIRST WORDS I heard Tuesday morning were, "Dad is safe." My sister called from the East Coast at 4:30 a.m. Hawaii time. Realizing she had awakened me, her next words were "Turn on the TV." Terrorists redrew
the map of our livesDad lives near the World Trade Center, and what seems like a lifetime ago, I lived in New York as well. As I got dressed and watched the early coverage, Chris Shirai, who is in charge of Hawaiian Electric's energy delivery systems, phoned me with instructions.
By 7 a.m., HECO's Incident Command Team was together and taking charge. We have a formal structure to manage major incidents that threaten our ability to deliver electric power to people. We have prepped and drilled under various scenarios, but never one like this.
Efficiently we put a plan of action into motion, designed to secure the system, with special focus on supporting the U.S. Armed Forces in Hawaii. Their mission seemed especially important this day.
The meeting broke up, people did their jobs, and we reconvened late in the morning to track progress. Everyone's head was in the game, but as with all Americans, our souls were in trauma. For the first time in a lifetime of ambiguous spirituality, I asked our team if we could bow our heads in prayer. I have never been especially good at following prayers, let alone leading them. This was coming from someplace inside that I didn't know I had.
The day sped on, busy and focused, until mid-afternoon when the group I was working with heard that President Bush was going to make an announcement. We turned on the TV, missed the announcement, and for the first time saw the video of the airplane-turned-missile destroying the World Trade Center tower. The explosion, implosion and collapse. Total devastation.
I left the room, found a close friend in the office and mumbled, "You don't remember someplace was once your home until you see someone bomb it to bits." Then I cried.
I told my wife that evening that if I had a rifle, knew who the enemy was and where they were that I would go and kill them. Odd, almost little-boy talk for an arthritic middle-aged child-of-the-'60s. Perhaps it was because I've known good and bad in my life before, but never evil. Not like this.
I am sure that in our own ways, most Americans had a day something like mine. A day where the pattern of your own routine was sabotaged first by visual images and then primal feelings.
Much has been said about the unknown enemy in all this. Less has been said about how Americans now need to know themselves in new ways. No television guru or political pundit can forecast where this all will go. Not nearly. Looking back on Tuesday, I started where we all need to, inside myself.
Chuck Freedman works at Hawaiian Electric Co.
and is a 30-year resident of Hawaii.
