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2002-09-01

Written by: Marianne T. Jervis, NJ/CISM Counselor
856-435-5115

Tuesday September 11, 2001
NYC World Trade Center gets hit 8:45 am

It?s a little after 10:00 am and I hear my next door neighbor, Kevin, shouting for me somewhere in my home. I realize, as I rush upstairs from the sunroom, that he is yelling frommy front open kitchen window. He seems upset about something. He sees me and yells for me to hurry up and put my TV on. I ask him which channel. He replies,
?put any channel...you?ll see... hurry up?.
I hasten to the TV set in the Living Room and see what looks like a movie of New York with the sky scrapers; so familiar to me in my past travels in the music business. I turn to the next channel; the same thing. I click the remote once again; the same scene. I turn to look back at my neighbor still standing at my kitchen window, and exclaim
that ?every channel has the same scene of New York on it".
?What?s going on?? ?What are they filming?? Kevin responded with, ?keep looking... you?ll see?!
I unsteadily watch and listen to the anchorwoman tell all TV Viewers that ?the World Trade Center, #1 Building has just been hit by what appears to have been a bomb?.
On the screen I see the twin towers and realize that upper portion of Tower #1 is engulfed in flames. I stand frozen watching the scene with my mouth open, while my heart prays ?Dear, God... oh no?. I say aloud ?Oh My God? ?This isn?t really happening right now, is it?? Kevin yells back in to my kitchen window, ?I?m afraid so, Mar. At least that?s what all the news channels are saying? and adds that "he has to leave now to check on his 2 year old son who is taking a nap".
?My God?, I think. ?This can?t be happening.? Again,
I change the TV Channel. To my added horror, I now hear the TV News Reporter announce that ?the World Trade Center has now been hit with yet another plane?. The News Reporter continues, ?Building #2 has just been hit. So now Building #1 and Building #2 have both been hit by what appears to be?......the Reporter stops in mid sentence.... I hear a loud ?Oh my God? and then, astonished and in shock, I actually see the entire building collapse. I am, shocked, pained, confused, mesmerized, numb.... shocked again,.... confused, angry,.... numb.... as I, too, utter aloud........?Oh my God?.. ?OH...MY..... GOD?... ?Please help those people, Lord?.... ?Please take them up with you?.... ?Hold them in your arms, Lord?.... ?Let them know everything will be okay?... ?Please, Lord...... Please, Lord........... Please, Lord.? ?Oh, Lord......... please help them.? ?Oh my God... I can?t believe this is really happening.? ?Is this real????

Tuesday September 11, 2001 W T C Hit 8:45 am
It?s 11:00 am. The saddest and most serious Crisis Call for help, I?ve ever received by NJ State C.I.S.M. Director, Roland Kandle.
?Marianne, I need your help.? ?I guess you are already aware that we (C.I.S.M.)have been activated. I will be needing you to report to an undisclosed meeting point near the Holland Tunnel. You?ll be met by NY State Police, Port Authority Police and Federal Agents.
You must give them proper I.D. (Name, Driver?s License, etc. whatever they require right now). You will then be escorted to our Command Center near the burning site.
You will be needed to do ?whatever it takes? to get this situation under control. You will be going down to the site or manning the Command Post on 12-hour shifts; with the rest of the team.?
?You will be needed to do Crisis Counseling for all the Fire Fighters, Police, Emergency and Rescue Teams; and I understand there are Fire Fighters and Rescue Units
being dispatched from other states. It doesn?t matter who you assist or Counsel; just be there for whoever needs it. You know what we?re looking for, so I want you to go out there and do what you do best.? He added: ?The nation is on Full Red Alert; and we don?t know what to expect next. But we do need to do something about the near and present situation at hand.?
?So.....are you prepared to do this??, Roland asked.
?Of course I?m ready, Roland.? (I responded without hesitation.) ?Whatever it takes, Roland. Whatever it takes.? ?Just tell me When and Where, and I?m there. You know me.?
Roland replied, ?Great, Marianne, I knew I could count on you! You would be great at handling this, especially with all you?ve been through (referring to my own bouts with traumatic situations and post-traumatic stress while working as a NJ State Senior Correction Officer).?
I thought for a moment and added; ?I know Roland...I know what you?re going to say.? ?Everything happens for a reason... and everything is in God?s hands.?
?I sure know that I will be great at spotting anyone who is about to go into any type ?Crisis Mode?. I?ll be looking for any signs of: Shock, Beginning stages of Post-Traumatic Stress, Signs of Depression, Anxiety, Panic, etc..
I know I?ll be, especially, good at detecting anyone going thru ?Crisis-Denial?. ?Crisis-Denial? is a name I gave for the symptoms I was experiencing due to many traumatic crisis situations and/or intended abusive situations I had undergone, or witnessed, while
performing my duties as an Officer in Corrections. On another scale of Trauma, ?Crisis-Denial? could be defined as : What Fire Fighters, Police, Rescue Personnel, etc. go into when they are ?Toughing It Out?. ?Crisis-Denial? occurs when there are no answers, or help during extreme incidents of abuse, assault, critical incidents, of any type, etc. The Mind takes on the task of Acting Like Everything is Fine, as it attempts to make sense and/or remedy major critical situations of Extreme cruelty; Unusual punishment; Extreme Devastation; Extremely cruel
Intended Hurt or Abuse; Extreme Intended Hatred / Terroristic threats or acts; etc. caused by outside forces, or the powers that be.

Wednesday 10:00 am September 12, 2001
Roland telephones. ?Hi, Mar. This is Roland, again.? ?Are you ready to do some real dirty work? Get ready, because we have the Command Center up and I need you to call Linda at the Prosecutor?s Office, and get some C.I.S.M. Teams together. I?ll be calling for assistance up here in Newark and doing mostly North Jersey; but I need you to round up the troops in South Jersey.? ?Can you help me out?? ?I will fill you in on the rest of the details.? ?I can?t tell you a specific location right now.? ?Just stay by your phone, Marianne.? ?I?ll be needing you up here ASAP. I?m just waiting for clearance and the proper Authorities to get down here?.
?Get ready for a long haul, Marianne.? ?I?ll appreciate anything you can do.? (End of phone conversation.)
I say a silent prayer for the victims....The Living and the Dead. I remember the words: ?He shall come to Judge the Living and the Dead?. I think, ?He?s probably Judging
all of us right now........? I think to myself and stare into space....and reminisce...
Dear God, I only ask that you:
Give me the Right Words, to Say to These People ,
And Guide Me to the Ones who Need Us the Most. Amen

Wednesday 2:00 pm September 12, 2001
I speak with Roland Kandle, again, about organizing the C.I.S.M. Team to go up to New York to assist with the support for the survivors and workers at the disaster. Roland tells me to stay put where I am, for the time being; as we don?t know what?s in store for us at this point. I agree. What he really needs, is for me to round up the troops and get dates and times when each member can be available for debriefing/defusing sessions. I tackle the assignment and, upon completion, await further orders.

Thursday September 13, 2001
C.I.S.M. Director Roland Kandle calls to ask if I can be available for assignment in New York. I anxiously oblige; and am more than ready to assist. He gives me a check-in
point where I will check-in (a 2-hour trip), get I.D.?d, and am assigned to my next post.
I arrive for the 12:00 midnite to 12:00 noon shift. My first assignment is to report to the main site for a first-handed feel of what the police and fire-fighting survivors have seen and felt first-handed. Although, I really don?t see the need to have to go witness the site to
effectively counsel the survivors; I obediently follow Roland?s orders.
To my further astonishment (for lack of a better descriptive word), I am just totally shocked to see the high orange flames still shooting through the massive twisted steel that appears to be at least 3 city blocks in width and 1 in height. I see the grotesque ( but once so
beautiful) sky scrapers with all their blown out windows on almost every floor. At the far end of the heaps, nestled between 2 more destroyed buildings, I see a huge glassed-in dome which looks as if it was hurled from atop another sky scraper during the blasts. I can?t believe what I am seeing. This not only does not look like New York City, this just doesn?t even look like anywhere or anything you can imagine in all of America. The big and massive cranes and dump trucks feverishly pulling in all around me, make this unreality and sure reality.
I still can?t believe what I am seeing. Hundreds of fire-fighters and policemen hurriedly work, almost on top of each other, trying to find or rescue someone from the
burning wreck. Many police in fire-proof jumpsuits, boots, gloves, masks, and protective helmets all seem to have that same glazed look and pale sickly color on their faces; as they courageously fight through the flames and thick billowing smoke coming from the fiery furnace engulfing their loved ones. Rescue workers, police, and fire fighters arrive from all around the 50 states as they all join together in trying to rescue their ?brothers? and ?sisters? from this horrendous disaster.
Out-of-towners and well-wishers from among the 50 states stand with huge homemade white cardboard signs with ?Thank You and God Bless All Of You Rescue Workers?, waving
American Flags, handing out boxes of food and snacks and bottles of water. It is just so unbelievable to see how all of mankind has pulled together during such a tragic event. The two extremes of visiting ?hell? and then seeing so much love ?heaven? around me brings to my mind a very familiar verse from the Bible: ?And I saw a new Heaven and a new Earth, for the former ones were passed away?... My next thought jumps to Revelations, in the Bible. I ask myself, ?Could this be Armageddon... the beginning of the end??
Friday 8:00 am September 14, 2001
Well, it sure is going to be a long haul. I still am in shock. I can?t believe the devastation on a once-traveled and well-known thriving street in the heart of New York City. The Heart of New York!! It?s indescribable. There are no words to describe the horror, the gaping enormous fiery hole in the middle of New York.....This just isn?t happening!!! This isn?t New York!!!! It doesn?t even look like anything in America. There is no place in America or American History, that I know of, that could possible come close to looking like this disaster scene....of flaming burning Concrete, Twisted Steel... Yes, Burning Concrete, and Burning Steel, etc. I?ve never heard of certain element being on fire. It is so eerie down here. The center of the City looks like it just blew up. Remnants of the explosion completely litter the cold, barren and damp dark streets all around the ?Yellow Taped? and Barricaded Site.
Pieces of men?s shredded white and soiled tee-shirts wave from the tree branches from above. Desk-top ornaments and pieces of shattered pictures and photo frames are jaggedly peeking out from once ?well-manicured? bushes around nearby buildings.
You can steel feel the after shocks underground from the unfathomable explosion that occurred here only a week ago. Numerous other surface explosions and fire bursts can be
seen amid the heap of rubble and twisted tall steel. Huge eerily-looking skeleton-like beams of twisted steel hang at a dangerous angle nearly 12 stories in the air; and wedged firmly amid the deadly site.
An enormous glass and steel globe that once crowned the top of a nearby sky-scraper dangles vicariously wedged between ruins of devastated twisted remains of once tall buildings.
The only buildings that remain, are charred black and nearly windowless.
There is darkness and fire and water everywhere. There is so much smoke and dust and debris in the air, that the smell of smoke or sense of smell is nearly non-existent.
BRAVE Fire Fighters, and BRAVE Rescue Workers work feverishly trying to find victims under the debris. Just looking at the site tells an entirely different story, though. As I evaluate the situation, in an effort to be prepared for the inevitable, My mind thinks: ?Who could possibly have survived this?? ?I?m looking at steel and concrete burning.? I hear the Engineers telling the Fire Chief, standing next to me, that the temperature of the initial explosions was at least 2,500 degrees and the temperatures below are still rising.
Fire Fighters and Rescue Workers still work feverishly, believing that they WILL save their buddies, brothers, fathers, co-workers, Superiors, sisters, mothers, etc. amid the burning rubble.
There is such a feeling of Complete Contrast here! As you enter the site of ?Ground Zero? the eyes see such a dark, dark, coldness, and devastation. Yet, at the same time, there is an unbelievable feeling of nearly invisible White Glow and warmth. There is an unusual Spirit of Love, especially in the heart of all of this. It gives you chills of warmth to continue to go on. It feels like you are being hugged from up above. You can almost here angel-like singing or humming thru the loud sounds of the concrete blasters and excavating equipment. And when you look up.....You can?t help but see the white glow coming from the site, and going directly straight up to the
Heavens. Working directly at the site and being directly below all of this light, especially on the 12:00 midnite shift... you get to see, feel, and hear so much around you.
I see the glowing white feet of the two huge angels standing erect (as if at attention) in full-length with pure white gowns. They are standing in place of the two (2)
destroyed WTC Towers. The Arch Angels are so huge and tall, their heads touch the clouds in the sky above. I wonder, how I can see the clouds above at this hour. It?s nearly 2:00 pm. Yet, the Angel?s heads light up the sky directly above. I CAN see the SKY ABOVE ad the WHITE BILLOWY CLOUDS! This is truly amazing. God?s Love is Breathtaking. I am sure that the victims are all fine and in God?s Hands. The Angels are standing Guard as we
prepare the Holy Ground, from whence they came. There is such a peaceful silence through the horrific loud noises of the excavating, dumping, and welding equipment. There is such a holiness overshadowing the extremely horrific disastrous site. In your heart, you KNOW that all of these victims truly went immediately straight up to the Heavens to meet with their Maker?s Glorious Love. Two extremes are seen and felt everywhere, right now. Dear God...

Sunday September 16, 2001
Just about every other day, I have been taking the 4 hour round trip jaunt to New York to assist in counseling the survivors of the WTC disaster. The trips have been very fulfilling.
The stories by the survivors have been very uplifting. The experience of being a part of this rescue mission can not be described in mere words. This has been good therapy for myself, as well. At least I can do something with all of the experience I have learned from my own personal horrors. I can readily detect someone looking like they are in a daze, and going too within themselves; one of the first signs of post-traumatic stress. I can hear the survivors tell me that they are fine, as I listen intently to their hearts saying just the opposite; at times. I
can offer so much moral support and good positive advice for therapeutically dealing with this major tragedy. I can finally understand why my God allowed me to go through the
horrendous perils that were put before me; in order to be so useful today.
As I peer out into the near distance of the burning twisted structures, my mind equates the feelings and emotions I get as my minds? files refresh flashbacks of myself being locked behind bars, knocked off flights of stairs, driven into dark woods...etc.. I feel the fear.
I feel the peril. I feel the not knowing how to understand the violence. I feel the familiar and deep sadness welling deep in my heart. I feel and hear the confusion whirring and buzzing all around me. I see something so familiar, yet so meaningless and sad. I finally feel, once again, the All Familiar Feeling of my Father?s Love Hug me from deep inside; while a sturdy hand pats? me on the shoulder as chilling whisper in the air says ?Get In There....You know what to do.? I feel my Father with me and know He is definitely with them too. My feelings of confusion and terror slowly subside, as a subtle peacefulness hovers over me. An older short male Fire Chief from out-of-state looks over to me beneath a heavy looking fire helmet and special heavy yellow and orange rubber suiting. His glazed and squinted eyes try giving me a slight smile, as I read a gentle man with a crying heart. We exchange hellos and I ask if any of his crew were hurt or missing in this rescue? As he looks way down to the ground, he struggles with a muffled ?yes, ma?am?. He adds, ?too many to mention?. I ask if he is okay; to which I receive the common ?oh, yes.. I?m okay?. But his eyes tell me, please stay and talk
to me. His eyes drift back away and off into deep sad silence, again. I proceed to tell him that ?God picks His Angels, you know?. I continue, ?And when He wants them with Him, there?s just no stopping that?. The fireman slowly gets attentive, again, and he looks up at me as I
continued. ?I?m sure your friends are looking down at us right now.? ?They?re probably saying, ?Why are they so sad and angry down there? Don?t they know that we?re happy and
finally with our Father? We feel bad for them. They?re the ones that are left down there to clean up all of that mess.? There is a long silent and sad pause....The fire-fighter finally looks up with a smile, now. He answers,
?Yes, that?s true. You know, you?re right.? I answered with, ?God allows things to happen for a reason.? ?Someday we?ll understand.? ?I?m glad to have been able to have met you, sir.? He smiles again.
He then begins with, ?You know, you really made me feel so much better. I really appreciate you taking the time to stay and talk to me. You really made me feel much better.?
I smile and feel like hugging him. He is such a sweet and humble man. Instead, I offer my hand and give him a very warm handshake, as I pat him on the back with my free hand. I thank him for coming out and taking the time to help his brothers. Before leaving, I add, ?Just remember, now you have a lot of guardian angels up there that you know personally by name. Don?t forget to talk to them, once in a while; especially if you need them.? The
fire-fighter?s face instantly brightens and this sign tells me to move on to the next survivor.
There has been such a touch of love from everyone, there are really no words that can adequately and accurately describe the current surroundings. I am truly blessed to be here.
I have, personally, met so many beautiful people with so overflowing God-filled spirit and faith.. However, through this part of Heaven on Earth, there exists such a great sorrow and pain that fills the air with such immense tears of sadness to all who are around for miles of the site. Tears can be felt and heard, here, world wide. There are truly two (2) extremely visible contrasts present all around me. There is an extremely visible heartache, shock, and fear...side-by-side along with an extremely visible love, help, and hope. It is such a shame.
As I enter the Port Authority Command Post, I see the many pictures of all the fallen comrades posted just outside the Control Center. There are approximately 30 to 40 faces strategically placed, amid enormous and beautiful bouquets of flowers and about 25 scented lit candles; making the shrine and faces all aglow. The faces...... The men and women in uniform... All seem to have one thing in common. Their eyes are all facing forward and direct, with a clarity and sharpness exhibited on professionals who are just a ?cut above?. They all were, indeed, above and beyond your average officer or individual. As I look closer
to each individuals? photo, I further notice that each one of them appear to have been such a character in some way. They look playful and yet so sincere.
I think back to how many times I have heard it said, over and over again by their fellow officers.... ?if you only knew him?.... ?he was exceptional?... ?they were so special?.... ?they were like no one you?ve ever met?..... yet I do know. I do understand. I can see it in the photos. I can feel them in my heart. I pray to God and to the deceased officers to please help me say the right words of comfort to their fellow officers and friends who have survived.

Friday 10:00 am September 21, 2001
My friend Ernest Terry from Radio Station WTMR call to say hello. He asks what I am up to, and I inform him of my Counseling Job at ?Ground Zero? in NY. Ernest explains
that the reason that he is calling me, is that he has been playing my song ?I?ll Climb The Highest Stairs...to You, Lord? on the air...and he has been thinking about me.
I am surprised to hear Ernest say that, I inform him that the song he is referring to was written, ironically, in September of 1990. That was exactly 11 years ago. Not only that, but I discussed the conversation I had with him at that time... about the origin of that song. Ernest replied, ?I know? ?I know? ?And that?s why I?m calling you!? ?I remember you telling me that you had a vision of a pilot of a plane singing this song to God, as he saw his
plane crashing into these tall skyscrapers....as he began to sing: ?I?ll climb the Highest Stairs to You Lord.... This Day of Warring....I Never had Enough Time to Say Goodbye... To All of the Ones....Who Loved Me....?

Saturday September 22, 2001
Typical 12-Hour Shift from the WTC Command Post:
12 Midnight - 12 Noon Shift at the World Trade Center
Site (WTC) in New York with the N.J./C.I.S.M.
(Critical Incident Stress Management) Team.

Met and Counseled Port Authority Police at C Base (Command Underground at Journal Square). The P.A. Police lost quite a few of their men in the line of duty at W.T.C. assigned posts above and below ground at
Towers #1, #2, and #5.

1ST Post: Ground ?O? Warner Command.
Temp. Base at St. Aloyisius? School Gym.

2ND Post: W.T.C. site of disaster.
Recovered two more bodies from beneath all of
the twisted steel,concrete, flames and dust.
Supposedly, bodies were that of two more Port
Authority Police.
Supplied hands-on counseling and support to
those still yet in shock.

3RD Post: M.A.S.H. Unit/Hospital and Body Parts Stations
and crews on duty.
Special Police, Rescue Workers and Sanitation
Crews from all over the United States working
in the Hi-Stress Venture.

4TH Post: Morgue. Priests and ministers are already in
position upon arrival.
Officers on duty carry that same blank stare
and look of ?serious business?.
Touched base with the human side of them, before
leaving. Left with smiles, at least; and firm
handshakes accompanied by statements of support.

5TH Post: Ground Zero. Attempting to extricate remains of
a Fire Chief and possibly a Fire Captain,
beneath large Red-White-Blue American Flags
marking destinations and possible bodies.
Huge cranes are fiercely scooping up remains of
twisted steel, pieces of tan burnt office carpet
accompanied with huge chunks of concrete, pieces
of clothing, (appears to have been pieces of a
man?s business suits, greyish white dirty sleeved
button down shirts, parts of T-shirts stuck in
trees and bushes along with all other debris for
blocks around).
Stood by many groups of fire fighters on site
helping in the recovery assignment. Fire
fighters lay on the ground (from Washington, DC)
after working steadily all night, putting out
reoccurring fires during the dig. I met with
fire fighters from Miami and as far away as Los
Angeles. Spoke with L.A. staff from F.E.M.A;
who came equipped with their own support staff
(including Chaplains) like NJ CISM. I thank
them for coming out and assisting us at this
time of need.

6TH Post: Recovery Mounds in progress at Site #1.
Body Bags being handed out and rescue workers
rush out with us in a group, armed with heavy
rubber gloves and thick white rubber work
buckets. Investigators from Sanitation
Departments and DNA as well as several FBI
investigators surround this area. The Fire
Chiefs and Commanders remain focused with their
feelings intact. Their prime concern, it seems,
is for the many lives and safety of the rescue
workers who are presently working now.
Another big dump truck is filled to the top with
debris. The next empty vehicle backs in to take
his place.
Again, the crew rummages through the next pile
of debris before this, too, gets swiftly
discarded. The look of hurt, pride, love,
hopelessness, sadness, and unity is just
overwhelming. It?s hard to imagine that so much
sadness can be converted to so much beauty by
the Grace of God.
7TH Post: Ground ?0? Warner Command
Back to St. Aloyisius School Gym.
Workers are everywhere. Some are asleep on
cots. Some are in long lines waiting for
clothing, supplies, equipment, etc. Salvation
Army and local Restaurateurs are dishing out
food and drinks for all rescuers.
Fire Fighters and Rescue Squads from all over
the USA are in Blue or Yellow Uniforms wearing
Bold Letters or Numbers (advertising their
precincts or Townships) Proudly on their sleeves
or backs. Ladder Companies seem to be from
everywhere; Dallas, Florida, Texas, California,
Delaware, Ohio, Chicago, Trenton, Pennsylvania,
Atlantic City, Newark, Oklahoma, Detroit,
Mississippi, Tennessee, England, etc. (along
with some of their Rescue and Police Units).

I shuffle off to a back corner, behind a Temporary Wa-Wa Stand. I see a group of Out-of-state Fire Fighters huddled on unmatched metal tan and grey folding chairs. A tall wooden blackboard is set up with a few chalk diagrams behind them. I recognize the layout of the Ground Zero site on the blackboard, along with the many falling buildings around it. I notice the huge X above each underground staircase that the firefighters have been working on feverishly. My eyes scan the many sweaty and dirty-exhausted faces of this crew.
I focus my attention on the middle-aged firefighter holding his face in both hands.
As I near this fatigued rescuer, I touch his shoulder and hear him sobbing in a corner to himself. I sit beside him and tell him ?It?s okay? ?I know how you feel...This is absolutely terrible.? I continue, ?I?ve been through a lot of things and have seen a lot while working as an Officer in a Prison; but this is the worst things my eyes and my heart have ever endured? The gentleman tilts his head to the left, toward me, as he begins to look up. He asks,
?You worked in a prison?? ?You sure don?t look like you worked in a prison.? A few seconds go by. He asks, ?You mean a woman?s prison, right?? I smile, as I pat him on
the back; and answer: ?No...an Adult Male Medium Security Prison... like in Camden New Jersey.? The Fireman now shakes his head in almost disbelief. We both smile. Then I proceed to ask him some essential questions. I find a common ground with him, now, and get him to talk. He has such a good heart. Apparently, he recognized a part of some
Fire Fighting equipment which belonged to one of his long lost buddies that he used to know here (in New York) and was sad when he was the one to have found the piece of equipment which finally identified the name for the body count. (Inside, I felt like crying for him. I could feel
his sadness.) He began to talk aimlessly on about his buddy. To tell you the truth, I felt his buddy right there with us as he continued to ramble on. When he was through with his story. I DID mention this to him. He said, ?You know, I didn?t want to sound weird or anything, but I
actually feel like he is RIGHT HERE ALONG SIDE OF US, RIGHT NOW, TOO?! I replied, ?I know....So I guess you?ll be all right, now?? He nodded, fervently as we both smiled and waved goodbye.
I said a silent prayer for the men....the Living and the Dead. I remembered the words ?He shall come to Judge the Living and the Dead?. ?Maybe He?s doing that right now?, I think to myself..again.
?Dear God, I ask you again...Please give me the words, and send me to the people that need us the most. Thank you!?

Sunday 4:00 pm September 23, 2001
Upon completing, yet another day at ?Ground Hero?, I arrive at W.T.M.R. Radio Station in time to sit and chat with my dear friend, Ernest Terry. We have a very long chat
and Ernest decides to continue our chat ?LIVE? on the Air. We talk about our friendship, my recent activities of support in New York, and finally we talk about my music. We begin discussing one song in particular: ?I?ll Climb The Highest Stairs? which I had written way back in September of 1990. It was recorded in Philadelphia with The Philadelphia Boys Choir. I then tell the story about this particular song as I first wrote it; again, to Ernest.
It was early September of 1990 when I was deciding to finally get out of the music business, as I was very unenthused nor did I have any positive incentives to be around. I was primarily interested in sharing with the public a God-given talent I had; which was singing, playing piano, and writing songs. However, for the time being, I truly did not fit in with the current program which was being followed by the business. Also, I had bills to pay
and a home to go home to. Not only did I have a good head on my shoulders, but my daddy didn?t raise no coward. I had the guts to stick it out, but I wasn?t about to lose house and home in order to be ?famous?.
I knew I would always have a ?gift? as I would have dear loving friends and family. Nothing else, much mattered. Though I did know I would miss the adventure.
Anyway, on one of my last trips to New York City, I was sitting on a subway train in Philadelphia, PA when I began having a private conversation with God. It went something
like this: ?Dear God, why did you give me this talent? This talent amazes me and fills me with so much sunshine and light, yet the industry makes directs me to hide it under a bushel.? ?Why does it always end up like this??
?I don?t care if I?m famous.? ?I just want to share this talent and my love, in return for the love that I feel that you give me.? ?That?s all....? ?You should have never given me this talent.? ?New York was right; when the N.Y./A.G.A.C. Guild members said that a God-given talent is a ?curse? and it?s a ?blessing?. ?And now I know it sure is.? ?Lord, you can help me.? ?Please help me.? ?And by the way, are you really singing these songs with these words and music to me?? ?Please give me an answer.?
?I?m baffled by it all.? ?I just want to make an honest living, Lord.... and maybe travel around to see the rest of your beautiful world that you created... and all the beautiful people I have yet to meet.? ?That?s all.?
?Lord, I don?t even know why I?m even on this train to
New York City, again.? ?I?m just going to hear the same compliments, but nothing substantial, definite, honest, or businesslike ever comes out of it.? ?It?s all the same, Lord.? ?This is a waste of my time.? ?Yet, I forget.. when you sometimes show me reasons why; when I least expect it.? ?Sorry, Lord; if I?m nagging you again.? ?I?m only human, you know.? ?It?s your fault, that I am even like this.? ?You made me this way.? I laugh to myself, as the
passenger sitting next to me sort of gives me a funny look. I can?t really tell anyone what I?m smiling about to myself. People would think I?m crazy. Oh well, what else is new? That never stopped me from being me. Boy am I tired, I think to myself.
I?m at 30th Street Station, when I hear the conductor announce the stop. It won?t be too long until I arrive at the World Trade Center and meet my friend (Vanguard Financial Consultant) Michael Agnessini. I close my eyes and try to take a short nap. All this praying to God from way down to my soul has tired me out a little. With closed eyes, just as we pull away from the 30th Street Station, I am hit with a sudden image of a man with dark hair in his late 30s, early 40s, with a desperate look on his face with so much perspiration dripping from his dark close-cut hair to the back of his neck. As I sit quietly with eyes open, now, I see his face with very dark eyes of terror and love within a profusely sweating face. His skin is very smooth and almost shiny. His uniform is that of a pilot. It look like an airline pilot.
As he speaks to me, now, he is saying to ?please just tell them I?m okay? ?just tell them I still feel them and will always feel them inside my heart? and that this feeling will never go away. He frantically says over and over again, ?Just tell them? ?Don?t forget to tell them"
...and finally, ?I?m going to be okay?. During this striking vision, there is such melodic music and
distinctly different choirs of music all around me. The music is so loud. As the pilot speaks to me, the singing all around us entertwines with the words he speaks, and the words coming from my God who gives me the songs. We are speaking to the same one; the same father.
The song is engrained in my head. It doesn?t go away. The choir looks and sounds like a boys? choir, in parts. It is not a girls choir, or a mass choir, or a mens choir. Yet at certain times, all of the choirs in the universe come together. The words begin to ring in my ears...?I?ll Climb the Highest Stairs... to You, Lord? This Day of Warring...... I never had enough time to say Goodbye..... To all of the ones, who loved me..... But I still have a
feeling.... Deep inside.... Of Me.......
These words can?t be right, I tell myself, as I write down this new song. This song is coming from this pilot. It should be ?I?ll Fly the Highest Skies........ to You, Lord? not ?I?ll Climb the Highest Stairs?. What does Highest Stairs have to do with it? This doesn?t even
make sense.
As I continue to write the song, I keep going back to adjust the words in the beginning. It is to no avail. Every time I try to change them, I hear angel voices and this pilot (I don?t even know? keep singing loudly ?I?ll Climb the Highest Stairs?..... I say to myself, ?well
excuse me?. By the time I arrive at the World Trade Center Station, the song is written and completed and the chords are figured in; along with the choir parts. ?Boy?, I think, ?this is a new one.? ?Even the choir parts are written in.? Thinking nothing of it, I pack it away and
exit the train to greet my friend Michael who has been patiently waiting for me. We have a scheduled appointment to meet Reverend Al Sharpton, regarding my latest song
?We?ve Got the Power?, which I wrote in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King. The message in the song is to promote non-violence and non-discrimination, as well as remembering the Lord up above.
It was an interesting meeting at the most famous French Restaurant in all of New York City, and then some. One thing I did notice, was that Rev. Al Sharpton?s fingernails
were much longer than mine. It seemed very odd to me. Other than that, he was your typical well-polished businessman and/or politician. He seemed pleasant, but not entirely focused on business at this time.
I remember driving all around New York City in Michael Agnessini?s limousine, sightseeing, and then grabbing a few drinks at a corner pub with a loud juke box playing a
lot of Beatles and Rolling Stone music. After singing along with 20 or so songs, Michael and I said our goodbyes and I left for New Jersey.
It is now, Sunday, September 23, 2001. I get a chill through my spine. I remember telling God ?Oh well, someday I?ll be singing this song and it?s going to mean something to someone probably on the other side of this earth?. I reminisce about the days that have just gone by. I remember, VIVIDLY, the sound of that man?s voice in the vision; telling me to ?just et them know that I love them... that I have this feeling.... that feeling of love....that I always had for them... and that I will always have for them... and that this feeling will always
be with me....I think to myself, ?who would?ve known??
?God was right, again.? ?This is amazing.? ?Lord, guide me now.? ?I know now what you were trying to tell me before.? ?Please help me to find the purposes.? ?Thank you, Lord.? I think back to how many times, when I told this story to people in the industry, they must have thought I was crazy. I told Joe Fitspatrick, Director of the Philadelphia Boys Choir. I told Alonzo Jones and Ernest Terry at WTMR Radio Station. I told Charles Webb, head Planner and Developer of Southeastern Transportation Department of Philadelphia (SEPTA). I bet they don?t think It's so crazy, now. I laugh to myself, again. ?Boy, does God have a sense of humor some times.? ?Who would?ve thought??
At least one thing is for sure. All of those victims surely became instant angels, and I know this in my heart. God Showed Me.. I heard them singing, long ago. Love is infinite.
God is Love. Yet I still can?t explain it. Oh, well. I guess it?s not important. Some things are better left unsaid. Some things are better when they are left a mystery or a miracle. That?s when you know just how Awesome God Is!
I wish I had a penny every time I heard a survivor tell me that they weren?t supposed to be off from work that day, or they were unusually late. I usually would smile and say,
?God knew?. ?God picks His angels.? ?It wasn?t your time to go.? ?You still have much more work to do down here with us.? Usually, the response and realistic advice is well taken. However, I did run across a few angry survivors who wished they were there instead of their dear friends. To that, I advise them to stop being so selfish; and to be thankful that they at least had the chance of having crossed paths with these special individuals in their lifetime. At least they know some of these guardian angels by name, whereas, others like myself would have wished to have known them. If that doesn?t get through, I usually add ?I haven?t met anyone who wanted to live down here forever... have you?? That usually gets a laugh, as they
answer with a resounding ?NO?.
It?s funny, through the course of my years as an Officer and Counselor; I have met many individuals who have tried repeatedly to take their own lives several times. And there
were extreme cases. For example anywhere from ingesting up to 80 barbiturates at one time to repeatedly slicing their wrists (with the vein); and have astonishingly survived; only to repeat this performance again and again. Ironically, though, God decides when it?s time for you to come home. I have been a witness to this on numerous occasions. Noone decides how long they will live on this earth; only God makes that decision, when He feels you?re ready to come home. And that I can say with great conviction.
Thank God that the disaster happened the way it did. The way I was told by surviving Officers, Experienced Fire Fighters and Building Experts at the site; it is common knowledge that the force of the airplanes colliding into the buildings caused such intense heat within the sky scrapers, that the victims didn?t have enough time to realize what hit them when they met their Maker and Father. The victims that perished from the mighty collapses, were instantly knocked unconscious as entire ceilings collapsed down upon them. The victims in the highest floors of WTC Building #1 were overcome by extreme smoke inhalation when the air tight building was spewing heavy smoke from below into the elevator shafts and staircases leading up to the highest floors. It also was good to know that they all made peace with their Maker;
calmly phoned their families to say ?I just called to say I Love You... I don?t know what?s going to happen... but it?ll be okay... Remember I Love You?. The few people who were spotted jumping from the buildings, I am told by medical experts, either passed on from severe shock or painlessly passed on when their hearts stopped beating before they even hit the ground below (since our bodies are not designed to be built like superman or superhuman). To all of this I would add: ?If your friends could physically talk to you now, I?m sure they would be saying?... ?What?s all this crying about?? ?We?re happy!? ?It?s the people in the world that we feel sorry for...Don?t feel bad for us, because we?re with our Maker.? To this, surprisingly, I received quite a few ?Amens? from surviving comrades. (At this point, I would just say silently, ?Thanks again, Lord Jesus. Let?s mend the next broken heart.?
c/o 10-01-01