Land That I

It was cold that December Sunday. Earlier Dad and I had walked over to the frozen Pond on the Southeast corner of Central Park to practice my ice skating. Sonja Henie was my heroine, and I had received the single blade black hockey skates for my birthday. Dad,The Magician, had no skates, but patiently walked around the cold wet ice until I felt comfortable balancing alone without his strong supporting hand. We headed home westward when the sun settled into the horizon; both of us eagerly anticipating our weekly roast chicken dinner. As we climbed the stairs to our fourth floor flat, I heard radios blaring. When we opened our door, Mom cried out, “Bill, they bombed Pearl Harbor.” I was very young that cold winter day, and I think our country was, too.

When I heard the car radio announce “President Kennedy has been shot in Texas”. I was driving Mary Gambino, an elderly neighbor, along with my four children to Waldbaums for our weekly grocery shopping excursion. My youngest child, still an infant, began to cry, not because of the news, but because he sensed the fear in Mary’s sobs as she wept openly. While waiting for the red traffic light to change on the corner of Main Street in Farmingdale, I realized traffic was suddenly moving forward. Without hesitation, I followed the line of cars and drove to St. Kilian’s Church where we discovered the small parking lot already crowded with people of all faiths arriving to pray for our wounded President. That dark November afternoon I was still a young woman who had so much more to learn, as so did other Americans.

I will always remember it was a glorious September morning. I lingered over a second cup of black coffee while my husband showered. There were two eggs on the kitchen counter waiting to be popped into boiling water for our breakfast, as I sat listening to my favorite WOR radio program. Suddenly, I heard an announcer with a quivering voice report “A plane has just hit the World Trade Center.” Abandoning my coffee, I rushed into the den to turn on the TV. My husband had walked downstairs and was sitting next to me on the leather couch when the second plane hit. I remember his words, “America has been attacked.” That was when we both knew we were no longer young, and also, the moment in time when our country would never be young again.

Today I am alone, no longer in my beloved NY, still with a cup of coffee, but now watching a historic vote that will ever divide America. It has not concluded, but I am acutely aware of how old I am as my heart breaks once again for the pain of America, my beloved country. This week I watched a different attack; one on a once unified Republic, and sorrowfully, I now admit I am uncertain if this division will ever heal.

Land that I Love........ God Bless America!