Some things you don't ever forget. On the morning of 9/11/2001, I was AOL chatting with one of my nieces. I ran to the TV, and all I remember is numbness. I drove to Stanley's office, trying to reach relatives by phone, but phone lines were jammed. As much as I wanted to stay home, Stanley insisted that my place was with my congregation; he'd make sure that the children made it home OK. I - reluctantly, I admit - drove to the UJC. I stopped at the light on Coalpit Hill Road and South Street, my windows open because it was a beautiful weather day, and I couldn't bear to be locked up in my car while the world was falling apart around me. That's when I heard that the first building had collapsed. I started to sob. The driver of the car stopped next to me looked over at me with a equally horrified look on her face. We nodded sadly at each other, and silently drove off to our respective places. When I got to the UJC, we were all walking around quietly. Lynne
Because cantors talk, too.