9/11

          I’m writing this on the eve of the 5^th anniversary of 9/11. I have been writing and rewriting my version over and over in my mind for the last 5 years. It hit us too much by surprise. Why? It should have never been allowed to happen. How did it happen? All of these questions and more have been asked by everyone. I have my theory, as does everybody. Mine is of complacency, and maybe that the U.S. is too pushy in trying to “Americanize” the rest of the world. I have since determined that my theory in the previous sentence is incorrect. The facts seem to be that Islamic extremists want to whole world to be Islamic, and anyone who isn't should die. Back in 1990, during my 5^th year at CNN,  suddenly Iraq invaded Kuwait. Then President George Bush, Sr. rallied the troops and gave the ultimatum to Iraq. We in the newsroom were inundated with covering the Desert Storm operation minute by minute. I started doing so much overtime during local field shoots since most of the field crews were in the middle east covering the war first hand. The term “embedded reporter” hadn’t been invented yet. What kind of term is that? I always thought the term “war correspondent” worked just fine. Anyway, this war was the first to have 24 hour live coverage. The whole CNN newsroom was flying by the seat of their pants. We did the same thing during Tiananmen Square, and later during the OJ trial. It was all happening so fast. This guy named Wolf Blitzer appeared on incoming satellite feeds during the Gulf War. People in the newsroom were asking, “who is this guy”? Pretty soon, other CNN correspondents were becoming household names. They were in viewers’ homes so long that they were practically becoming family members. When they were removed, viewers freaked out and wrote letters. This is when I believe that personalities started taking on more importance than the actual news reporting. Between that and the corporate downsizing, we were in the midst of the deterioration of TV journalism. This, at a time when the 24 hour opportunity was surfacing,  a chance that the best reporting could be brought out front at length to do the best job possible, but now the main concern was downsizing. I left CNN in June of 1996, about a month before the Atlanta Olympics. The choice wasn't mine, but it did just give me the chance to go to the gig and not look back. I was touring extensively, and during the summer of 2001, I took my two sons, Roger, Jr. and Ryan, then 16 & 13 respectively, on tour with me for a few weeks. We went to the Mid Atlantic region, New England, and New York City. I was playing at a club called Chicago Blues on 8th Avenue at 14th Street. That afternoon, we walked around lower Manhattan, enjoying the beautiful weather. While we were sitting on an old freighter pier converted to a park, Ryan decided to take a this picture of the World Trade Center. The club later closed on August 11, 2001. A month later, the world changed, and 14th Street was the location where the streets were blocked, restricting access to the immediate WTC area.

    September 10, 2001 had me, along with my wife, Jolie,  on a plane all day. I had been performing in England and Ireland from late August, 2001, and we were returning home that day on flights from Dublin to London to Atlanta. We flew over Boston, New York, and Washington. After at least 14 hours flying, we were quite tired when we made our way through customs upon arriving in Atlanta around 8pm. The International Concourse at Atlanta’s Hartsfield Airport felt like a football stadium crowd had just run out on to the field. The lines to get passports stamped seemed endless, and the U.S. Customs officials appeared to just be mechanically stamping passports one after another without even looking at them. Just as an airport official herded a group of about 10 undocumented passengers through a restricted area, I mentioned to Jolie that with the way things were in that airport, it just  seemed like anybody could walk into this country and do anything they wanted to do at any time. In my checked luggage, I was carrying a pedal board with several  guitar effects pedals attached, along with a black metal box that supplied power to the units. To the average person, this piece of equipment could raise questions. I actually asked the question out loud, “why doesn’t someone go into the belly of the plane, grab my road case, open it up, and ask me what this is that I’m carrying?”  I thought that if I’m carrying something that is as harmless as this equipment is, but that looks so threatening, there’s no telling what anybody else could be carrying. It was a very haunting thought, and as tired as I was, the thought was even more nauseating.

    It was about 9:15pm when I looked at my watch after getting into the airport shuttle bus that evening on September 10. Tuesday was to be my one day off before having to head out on the road for Michigan. That next morning, on the 11^th, I was up doing some computer work at about 9:45am. I received an instant message to turn on my TV. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There was only 1 tower standing! It was a sickening and helpless feeling as I watched the second tower fall. Jolie was preparing to go to the airport again to head out of town on business. She has many a twelve hour turnaround from one flight to the next, but this day, I told her she probably wouldn’t be going anywhere. The rest of the day was pretty much spent watching the live news coverage of NYC, Washington, DC, and Shanksville, PA., in disgust, anger, and grief as was the rest of the country, if not the world. It was evident that anything that I was worried about yesterday were of no concern to me today. My thoughts are with the families of the victims of 9/11.