2001-09-15 - 2:57 a.m.

For me, and many others in this country, today was a day of mourning. Of memorials. Of candlelight vigils and prayers. Today, around the country, people gathered together to pay tribute to the lives that were lost on Tuesday. At work, basically everyone was wearing red, white and blue, however they could. From a white Tommy Hilfiger T-shirt on Carrie to a red dress shirt, navy blue dress pants, and white socks and sneakers on me. For half an hour this morning I rode my bike around downtown Camden looking in every store that might possibly have a single American flag for sale, but, as expected, it was all in vain. I noticed as I rode, though, that there were more flags out then I ever remember seeing, even on a national holiday.

They lined the concrete sidewalks of Camden, put up by the town. They stood outside practically every business I saw. Cars rode by with them attached to antennas, sticking out windows, wherever they could be attached. The idea of even touching one of the ones on the poles along the streets appalled me. Never have I rode more carefully than I did past those flags. I don't know what it was that made touching them so wrong of an idea, but it was like, those were a symbol of freedom, of spirit, and of our right to not be controlled. It was like anything I did to them would be imposing my choice on them. I know it might sound rather silly, but that's how I felt. One of them had caught lightly on the antenna of a car parked next to it. At first I felt compelled to remove it, but then I thought, "No. That's where it decided to go… I'm gonna let it stay. Maybe it doesn't want to move. Who am I to judge?" For a second I felt a twinge of pain as I saw someone gripping one in a way that I thought seemed almost heartless. Then I saw who it was. An elderly woman who then moved that hand to a telephone pole for support as she walked. It wasn't just some random person grabbing onto it as they walked by, it was a person who needed the support of the flag. And I felt a warmth in my heart as I realized, if anything, that was what was important here. To be able to help each other. That flag helping that woman stand was probably the most powerful testament to the nature of this country in the past few days that I've seen. The American flag, a symbol of our entire nation, there to help who needs it.

Both frustrated and proud that I couldn't find a flag because so many people in this town had already purchased them, I headed on my bike to work. I arrived twenty minutes late, but when I told my story, no one minded. A blue candle sat on my keyboard. Red and white ones waited on the keyboards of my other co-workers. Sharon, my boss, brought them in and had plenty more. She walked around in her red, white and blue jacket, with matching blouse and pants, and made sure everyone had one. She made sure over and over throughout the day.

I'd given Sarah my phone card number and the number so she could reach me at the cafeteria at work when I went on lunch. She went to a campus-wide memorial at Cornell today, and I had a feeling she might need to talk. It felt really wonderful to talk to her again, actually hearing her voice, rather than just seeing her messages on ICQ, even if the mood wasn't always the best. I didn't think it was going to be. But it still felt good to hear her.

At seven o' clock, along with a lot of the nation, everyone left in the Camden National Corporation building stepped outside, holding their candles from Sharon. There were maybe fifteen of us, as most people there get out at five o'clock, but it was still good to see. Even Jeff Smith, the COO, who is normally in nice, matching, expensive suits, stood there in a red, white and blue-striped shirt and dress khakis, holding his candle. We stood in a circle and, as we lit the candles on each other's, one person started to sing the National Anthem. Slowly we all joined in. We stumbled a bit over the words, we were a bit off-key, but unlike any other time that would have happened, not one of us chuckled at it. I stared at my candle as the blue top turned to a white pool of churning wax. I thought of Partygirl and hoped for a bit of luck to go her way, so that either way she might know what has happened to her friend. I thought of Sarah and Emystica and Catattacks and all of the other people who may be worried about me and the decision I made yesterday. I listened to people talking about how stupid it was that people were enlisting already and wondered what they would think if I said that, if the cause is right and we go to war, I'll be trying to be right next to all of those people who are enlisting right now. I found out later, when I told Carrie, at least she agrees with my decision.

As I stood out there, though, the spirit of these people and myself got to me. People discussed how proud they were when they saw all of the flags that everyone has been putting out. Jeff told about how, on Tuesday afternoon, he was riding in his car and saw all the people who already had their own flags out on poles and had them at half-mast and started tearing up in his car. About how he did the same that night with the flagpole he made himself and finished just one week ago, tears in his eyes as he lowered the flag.

I flinched in pain when we were singing as the first drop of hot wax hit my fingers and solidified there. I looked around at everyone else, who had all already tilted their candles a bit so the wax would fall away and to the ground. I didn't. I let it drip onto my hand. I flinched a bit every time, but I didn't care. This was my symbol of togetherness with the country. A small amount of pain was not going to make me compromise it. The wax fell where it would, and as I felt it, I remembered all of the people who are now in so much pain, physical or mental that they would give anything to simply be only feeling the dripping of hot wax on their hands. And remembering that, I realised that was why I was out there in the first place. And then the pain felt right for that moment. If only as another thing to not let me forget.

What struck me the most, though, came as I rode home at 11:30 tonight. As I rode past the Rockport Elementary School and stared the whole way past at the flag, also riding halfway down, as every one that possibly can is right now, my bike slid into the shadows of the following trees. A home, adorned with flags, had a candle burning on either side of the driveway, in little glass candle holders.

I looked up at the sky just then, and the stars seemed brighter than they've been in a long time. The moon wasn't out, and I thought it was such a wonderful symbol of the way things are right now. There is no longer one giant bright spot trying to overpower everything, but now, everything in the sky was equal and seemed brighter together because of it. Where once the United States stood as a power above everything, for once we are calling for the support of everyone else. And together, we are stronger than ever.

And as I rode, I did something I don't remember doing in a very long time. I actually prayed. I didn't know who or what I was praying to, but to whatever or whoever may be listening. As best as I can remember, this is what I said…

"To whoever may be listening. I sincerely hope you are there. I know I am probably just another among millions of voices calling for your help now, but I have to say something, too. First and foremost, please help Partygirl and the thousands like her who currently just don't know. Please don't let any of them spend much longer without knowing for certain whether or not what they fear most is true. Help them find those they love so they can either be at ease, or truly begin to grieve.

"Help us. Help us to not do the wrong thing. Help us make the right decisions. But most of all, help us stop this from ever happening again. Help us keep more innocent lives from ending. Help us stop this evil. I am prepared to fight and even die if I must to save those I can before they will even have a chance to be hurt. I don't want to fight. I don't want to kill. I don't want to have the chance to be killed. But I will if that's what it takes to stop these injustices forever. These things don't happen in my country. They don't happen in my world. They have to stop. And they have to stop forever.

And finally. Please help the world. Don't let this get out of hand. Don't let this destroy us. Help us make sure we don't do something horribly wrong in the name of justice. I don't know if you have the power to stop us. But if you don't, at least help us see the truth first.

And most importantly… thank you. For… whatever you may have done to help us so far. Thank you."

I closed my eyes and just coasted for a moment. When I opened them, I saw a large American flag flapping from a house to my right. As I passed it, I recognized it as the house a little ways from mine with the car with the license plate on it that has the symbol of a purple heart medal. A great feeling of pride welled up in me as I rode past that house. I breathed in deeply and just said "Thank you" to the man inside.

I pedaled slowly past and to my house, and inside turned on the news. And there it had pictures of a candlelight vigil in Seattle that was still going on, then shots from all through the week of people working to help each other. And with that, everything that happened today came back and I sat down at my computer… and I started to write.