When the terrorist attack came I was in Atlanta on business.  The city shut down in a mess of fear and confusion.  The next day the Peabody started to clean up the glass and cover up the gaping holes.  The injured and the dead were removed.  Everyone noted a strange smell.  It had a dry, moldy scent reminiscent of Spanish Moss gone rotten.   No one could identify its source.

A few days later the evening news reported an increase in the amount of Spanish Moss on the trees and that it had taken hold on the ground and was strangling everything in its path.  Within a week the Spanish Moss had become an epidemic.  It was strangling all greenery and fowling waterways.  It spread in a frighteningly mechanical manner from state to state.  Despite global bans on travel and close inspection, it somehow attached itself to travelers and became a world wide problem.

Food and water became scarce and eventually bedlam ensued with killing and pillaging and hoarding the order of the day.

My time on this planet started to draw to a close.  So I set out on foot to home, South Carolina.  I determined to see if anyone was still alive on Daufuskie.

And this is what I found – the tragic beauty and remnants of a carefree time when people sat on the beach and brought baskets filled with fried chicken and lemonade.  The moss was making its inexorable approach and nothing would stop it.

This is written in response to Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, https://www.scvincent.com/2017/03/23/thursday-photo-prompt-Empty#writephoto.

The Heart of America Is Still Beating


This week Dom and I visited the 911 Museum.  The visit was more emotional that I had anticipated.  I thought that the distance of 14 years would have softened the emotional impact that the terrorist attack had on me that day.  But when I went  down into the base of that building and saw the artifacts that are on display the fear gripped my heart again.  My heart broke in to a million pieces when I heard the numbers and saw the names and here the stories of the people who lost their lives that day.  The following photo is a wall dedicated to the people who lost their lives.  The quote from Virgil is surrounded by hand painted tiles.  Each tile represents a person who died and each tile is painted a different shade of blue to represent the clear blue sky that morning.


Behind that wall is stored the remains of the people who have never been identified.  It was a very sobering moment to think about all the many layers of meaning that were being expressed by that wall.

The tour guide reminded us that the purpose of the attack was to cause fear in America and for that fear to separate the citizens of our country from one another.  When you go to the museum and look around at the diversity of visitors each quietly and respectfully touring the exhibits you realize the terrorist did not succeed.

So I celebrate today that the Heart of America is Still Beating.

Wishing you a day filled with pride in your country,