Almost midnight, from behind a computer in Baltimore
I just have to write this. I9m playing Bach9s cello suites - music so
soothing, yet so sad and deep, full of waves.
A day behind the TV. Checking e-mail messages every half-hour. Hearing the
worried voices from my mother in the Netherlands ("I9m so glad you called.
We9ve been trying to reach you. Is Baltimore close to New York and
Washington?"), from friends 4,000 miles away. Receiving messages of
sympathy, of worry.
And I think of the Fest. Five days of heaven. Five days in which I embraced
Wally K (he9s from Argentina), Helen (she9s from New Zealand), Les & Chris
(they9re from the UK), Bob (he9s from the South), Paz (he9s from Honduras),
Mags n9 Stephen (they9re from Canada), Ashara (she9s from another world),
Sharon, Yael, Jody, Les (they9re from deep down in my heart), Kakki,
Marcel, Mr. & Mrs Mixon (they9re all from California), Claudia (permanently)
and many many more. Five days in which I was happy, jubilant, silent,
talkative, at ease, in awe, in admiration, forgetting about time, forgetting
about distances, forgetting about differences ("Yes Marcel, I am a
Socialist, always have been, and no we don9t eat people, we prefer cheese
and chocolates. Oh, and I am a smoker, too!"). Five days in which I sang &
listened, talked & listened (Suzan, Sharon, I would have loved to invite you
over for a couple of weeks, just to talk to you and to cook for you),
laughed & listened, dreamed & listened.
Five days in which I admired. Five days in which I loved.
Yes, I was at Ashara9s for the full five days.
And now, just past midnight, the television off, Bach playing, Claudia
probably already asleep, I see all these mixed images in my mind. I hear
Alison & Micheal Paz screaming "Oh My God" in ecstatic laughter, and I hear
the "Oh My God" on the NBC screen in New York City.
I see Kate & Jeff sitting peacefully outside on the wooden veranda of Atty
May9s on the Plum Island beach, eating soup and chips ("French fries"),
Kate9s long hair blowing in her face all the time
and I think "They flew
back to LA. Wasn9t the hijacked plane from Boston destined for LA? Or was it
SF?"
I read how some people on the Jonifest list try to explain how wonderful the
fest was, and how they are trying to find ways not to make it sound "too
kumba-ya-ish"
and I think "Kumba-ya? Isn9t that a Middle-Eastern word?"
And I see how men hug women, and women hug men, and men hug men, and women
hug women at Ashara9s
and I see rescue workers putting their arms around
the victims of the attack.
And I hear how Les tells me that the List has over 800 members
and the
last thing I hear on the television is that the estimated death toll of the
Pentagon attack alone is over 800.
Today was 11 September 2001. I have only been back one week from a place
called Topsfield.
And I feel the relief again when I read that Hell has made it home safely,
and that Alison is alright, as is Patrick, dear Patrick whose eyes in my
pictures either look as if he has just seen Hannibal Lector or as if he is
imitating Robert de Niro in Taxidriver saying You looking at me? Eh, you
looking at me?9
And I hear Claudia sing A Case of You with Gregg, and I look around and see
tears in Kakki9s eyes, and in Suzan9s eyes, and I hear Sue Cameron saying
that she cried too
and I hear Claudia9s thin, frightened voice while she
is watching CNN, saying, "Doesn9t this scare you?"
I cried softly when Amy sang For Free and The Circle Game. The beauty of it
made me cry. Today I almost cried, too.
And then I see Mags and Brian again. In love. Side by side. Dealing with
personal hardships. Not giving up. Being open about it. And I admire them
both. And I see the four us going out for a nightly beach walk, the full
moon, and how Chris joins us and he starts talking
how I treasure that
walk
as I treasure the walk with Bob SC when I listen and listen and
listen to his serious and deep and wise side.
And I read Bob Murphy9s heartfelt message about his sister
and I see him
again, joking, writing half-drunk messages to the list not half realising
how brilliant his pen is and being totally surprised by the response he gets
off-list and on-list.
And I hear Ashara9s mother9s voice
and then mayor Giuliani who sounds
totally genuine, talking from his heart and remarkably controlled - unlike
George W. who sounds artificial (again) and confused - and I miss Ashara and
Bill Clinton.
And I see Marilyn sitting in the church, stars in her eyes. And I see shy
Stephanie, enjoying every second. Silent Les. Exuberant Donna. The lesbian
get-together, all relaxed and smiles. And I see Jim Man-of-God, happy,
composed, not sitting still for a single second. And I see Kay, glowing,
Yael, eyes of a goddess, Sharon, beautiful Sharon, Les, unfathomable and
silently loved by every man & woman in the room, a voice to die for, Maggy,
the one I simply need to hug
and I see a whole contingent of shy people
(no, don9t be afraid, I9m not going to mention your names) who lost some of
it because of the incredible atmosphere and then
BOOM
NY, WTC, NBC, DC,
CNN, ABC, 757, 767, 9.05.
And then I see Claudia hugging Anne who just had devastating news and I hug
both of them and Anne breaks down on the porch when she hears the sounds the
festers sing Both Sides Now from Ashara9s music room. On tv people were
breaking down, too. Reporters had a hard time keeping their tears in check.
And I know how Les felt when he returned to England after the Fest
and how
Chris felt
and how many others felt
I know how I felt after the first
Fest I attended. The blues indeed. How must thousands of people all over
America feel tonight? Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands? Waiting for
a phonecall that won9t come. For a message. For
Leaving, departing they9re not the same, are they?
And I see Jody & Scott all elated and totally exhausted because their house
hunt in the Boston area has been successful. And then I see all the debris
again.
Today was 11 September 2001. I have only been back one week from a place
called Topsfield.
I am still in America. For another two to three weeks. It9s so different
from Europe. CNN: "Americans will never feel safe again in their country." I
have never felt really safe in America, in a country where anyone might
carry a gun. But then again, I am a European from a relatively safe and
laid-back country. I HAVE felt wonderful over here. With my friends from the
list, whenever I am with Claudia, at concerts in The Birchmere in
Alexandria, VA, at the beach, in the woods. But above all, at Ashara9s.
Ashara9s is heaven. Today was hell.
John van Tiel
Bach9s cello suites are finished. Silence. See you later.
