On September 11, 2001 I was in my office when someone told me about the plane crashing into the World Trade Center. I remember getting up and walking back to the dining room where a television hung on the wall for homeless men to watch after dinner.
Several were watching when I entered the room including Charles, my six-foot-two, African-American, former bank robber, mentally ill, “adopted” son. I stood and watched the smoldering hole in the building.
Then the second plane hit and when it did, Charles grabbed my arm and squeezed it tightly. He was shaking with fear. Of course I tensed in disbelief when the plane crashed into the building and when Charles grabbed me I almost came out of my skin.
Turning from the television I looked at him and he was bent over as though he was trying to hide behind me. He shook and his eyes were full of fear. His hand remained gripped on my shoulder.
Charles had been with us for a few years at this time and was as stable as he had ever been. He cleaned our building, ate Oreo cookies like a kid, and mostly talked to himself. He would write letters to the President which meant that I got regular visits from Bill at the F.B.I. Except for when he was talking to himself --- laughing or cussing loudly --- Charles never showed much emotion.
This was the first time that I had ever seen him frightened.
“Sir,” he said in his deep voice as I stared at him and put my arm around him, “do you think that they will come for us?”
I couldn’t believe how scared he was but who knows how his mentally ill mind was taking it in. I glanced back at the television in disbelief at what I was seeing. Not knowing who or why. I made myself think about him.
“No Charles. We’re just a homeless shelter. No one is coming after us,” I reassured him.
“Why not?” He shot back as his head was almost on his knees as he stood behind me still holding on to my arm and shaking, “You get us government money.”
My head shook in another kind of disbelief. How does one answer something like that? I had no words for him. So I hugged him tight and told them that I would take care of him.
Whenever September 11 comes around I cannot help but remember this. Our nation changed that day. Fundamentalism of any kind is a cruel and evil thing be it Muslim or Christian or any other brand. Lives were lost because people’s religious and political views are as perverted as Charles’ ability to think rationally.
When all is said and done, it is about how we treat one another at the individual level. What happened between Charles and me that day was as significant as anything else happening that day. People hugged one another and cried as we witnessed tragedy beyond comprehension.
So it is right to remember what our country lost that horrible day. But it is also right to remember that it reminded us how much we care for one another. And in the end we will be there for each other.
Regardless.
