The tributes return! I took a detour to deal with the scoundrels, putting it mildly, who deliberately inflicted so much harm and destruction to lives and property. I will put that effort down as one of my few moments of bravery, because I had to force myself to wade through the terroristic sludge without diving into a sea of revenge. I succeeded – for the most part.

Today, September 2, 2011, something like paying tribute to the tomb of the unknown, I will attempt to pay tribute to some of the “unknowns,” no disrespect meant. I am referring to those folks who probably would have gone through this life, doing what they did to survive its many twists and turns, “fighting the good fight” – in other words, living life, without either fame or notoriety.

New York Magazine, in this 9/11 by the numbers article, states that 20% of us knew someone who was killed on 9/11. I did not personally know anyone, but as I have stated before, I still took these murders personally, and had to struggle for a long time with being able to forgive. I still have my moments when revenge wants to come to the fore, but I remind myself that vengeance is the exclusive purview and prerogative of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

I went in search of my “unknowns,” and came across the name of Valsa Raju, who as it turns, out, was probably well known. She is listed on at least four sites. She immigrated to the US, probably with excitement, looking forward to a future in a new land, thinking that she would live to a “ripe, old age,” tending her garden, working her job, looking after her family. It was not to be. She did not even get to see her forties. But, from the description given, what life she was given, she enjoyed. I could have used some gardening tips from her. I have a “brown thumb,” and proudly own up to having killed a cactus that I was “caring for.” No, I did not take a knife to its throat. Unaccustomed as I was to having live plants, I neglected to water it.

I am not succeeding in finding any true “unknowns,” and I am happy about that. Everybody is known, loved, missed by somebody. Luke Rambousek is the subject of a book by his father, Mike Rambousek. He falls into the statistics of those families who did not receive any body parts. But, in reading this article, I found that I had wandered into a “through the looking glass” kind of experience, a tale about how the wrong kind of government can crush the life of the individual, of music, of grieving, and healing. It was quite a trip.

Karen Renda was bored being at home, after being a homemaker. She traveled almost to the top of the skies to her job at the World Trade Center. There will be no more crafts from her. The “lady-like” Mrs. Renda was robbed of her life on September 11, 2001. A pattern seems to be developing here, of folks traveling to maybe the wrong place at the wrong time. Valsa Raju came from India. The grandfather of Luke Rambousek escaped from Prague. Mrs. Renda left the comforts of her home to take a job at the place that entombed them all. I have to admit. I began to think about a lot “what ifs.” What if Valsa Raju had remained in India? What if Ota Rambousek had remained in Italy, and therefore his grandson would not have been in the WTC? What if Mrs. Renda had decided to remain at home? I banished the “what ifs.” These folks were all doing what they wished to do. Their families had quality time with them. They enjoyed the time that they did have together. For what more can one ask?

This is totally unbelievable. There I was in the library using my laptop typing away on this article. I had gone to the library with my friend Sue. She wandered away from the computer that she was going to use. A lady and her son approached the same computer. I tried to hold onto it for Sue, but gave up, after the lady said that she wanted her son to use that computer where she could keep an eye on him. Actually, I think that I gave up because of the charm of the handsome face of the young man. There was another purpose. I believe that I can sense God’s hands in our chance encounter.

They sat down and the son proceeded to use the computer, while his mom read. As the mom got up, she stumbled. I turned to her, concerned, and asked if she was all right. She assured me that she was, that her leg fell asleep. I then complimented her on her son, what a handsome young man he is. We got to talking about Jonathan, as I found out that his name is. Janice, the mom, told me that more importantly, Jonathan is handsome on the inside. He is going to be attending a magnet school for gifted children. It turns out that Jonathan could almost be described as a 9/11baby. Janice was pregnant with him when 9/11 happened. He was born at the end of May the following year.

 Janice shared that she was sitting on the bed, in her guestroom, watching television. She received a phone call from a friend, telling her to turn on the television. She saw events unfolding. As is the case with all of us, she could not believe what she was viewing. She became worried about her pregnancy. She told me that she still worries about the world, that many people are good people, but what is going on in the world is sometimes frightening. She added that many people are kind and help out one another. I told her that I am a living example of kind folks reaching out and helping me. She asked if I knew about the movie “Pay It Forward.” I do. She said that paying forward is what life is all about. I agree.

Jonathan was politely listening, and “advised” his mom that they had to get going in order to purchase eggs, to make a dish for a party that they would later be attending. Jonathan is nine years old. I get the impression that he is not only “smarter than a 5^th grader,” but smarter than many adults! I advised him, as I do most kids, to take care of his mom. The icing on the cake of our conversation was that Jonathan, without being asked, proceeded to wipe away the tension from my shoulders by giving me what felt like a professional massage on those tired shoulders. He inquired if I am going to be in the library on Tuesdays. I think that I am going to have to make sure that I am, if for nothing but the free massage! It could also be for the conversation, if I can keep up with his intellectual discourse.  He left me with this bit of wisdom, that his action was the “treasure chest of goodness.” Jonathan, as I told your mom, I was in the presence of genius, and I am not worthy!

How many other writers out there have been blessed to be given a massage accompanied by words of wisdom, and a perfect ending for an article? Not too many, I am guessing. I had the pleasure of meeting a mother and child, with a genuine spirit of kindness and gentleness – the real America. No terrorists will ever succeed in taking that type of spirit away from this country. Thank you, Janice and Jonathan.

Somehow Hallelujah, sung by Il Divo, with its beautiful music and vocals, fit today’s tribute. Lyricstranslate.com has a translation of the lyrics from Spanish to English. The lyrics are certainly interesting. Sample:

That the wars will end soon
That the world will be peaceful in the end
That not a single misery will exist.

Unfortunately, as long as we human beings think that we are in control, misery ad infinitum will exist. But God is really in control, and He created all of the artists who contributed to this musical creation, as He did me and all of the folks I was privileged to learn about for this article. And I say – thank You God, that You are in control!

God bless America.