This has been a very difficult week. I haven't been this emotionally
overwrought since 9-11. Yes, that was a very different experience, as
shocking and violent as the Pope's passing was expected and peaceful,
and the recent tsunami disaster was far more devastating. Nonetheless,
it isn't often that nations come together so forcefully to respond to an
event. On such occasions, I find myself glued to the television for
hours on end, counting on the news anchors to be the calm in my
confusion. Most of all, it seems, I depend on Peter Jennings. I
particularly leaned on his presence during the dark days of 9-11, and I
was a bit surprised at how little I've been seeing of him in the past
few days.
Today I learned why. Jennings has just been
diagnosed with lung cancer. At this point it looks as though he is
prepared to fight this insidious disease with everything in his arsenal.
I wish him the best and hope they caught it very early. But this was
not the news I needed to hear as I am trying to muddle my way through
this week.
A few days after 9-11, in a fit of gratitude to
this honored anchor for helping to keep me sane, I composed the
following poem. I've noticed when I write tributes I tend to always
write "we" instead of "me"; I always feel like I'm tapping into a
powerful sense of community. I still see him as a leaderly figure, and
my thoughts are with him. I suspect he will appreciate all the support
he can get.
For Peter
You’ve stood before us as a rock, the solid, firm foundation
Of the newscasts that have kept us captivated.
From your impassive lips we’ve heard the horrors that our nation
Has endured, unfolding terror calmly stated.
You drew us to you Tuesday, and we watched for twenty-four
Straight hours as the breaking news came in.
You introduced the President who said we were at war
But promised we, the strong of heart, would win.
Your stiff lip trembled slightly as the correspondents spoke
From their posts among the rubble and the ashes.
Aghast, you saw the columns crumble in a cloud of smoke
And heard the chilling chaos from the crashes.
“I called my kids,” you told us in a voice so faltering
That we wondered if you might break down in tears
For the families that were torn apart. You paused, urged us to ring
Our loved ones, and continued. But our ears
Picked up on every foible, every word you mispronounced,
Every sentence that you couldn’t quite get right.
And your face displayed your sorrow as you heard the names announced
And beheld the faces of those killed in flight.
We’ve witnessed your exhaustion. We see and sympathize.
You have given us better than your best.
But now it’s time to loose the tears that hide behind your eyes,
To mourn at home and take a well-earned rest.
We thank you for your dedication and serenity.
You’ve done as much as anyone could do.
Although you battle terrorism in security,
We think that you have been a hero, too.
No comments:
Post a Comment