I made this 15 years ago.
I had a view from my 11th story window in Brooklyn. I had a radio and a plywood cello, a tin whistle and a whole lot of confusion.
I listen to it every year or so. I’m sharing it with you today.
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a rehearsal and recording studio in West Philadelphia
Oh, Rob. Thank you. I hear your disbelief and pain in your musical piece.
I remember frantically trying to reach you by phone that morning of terror.
I remember trying to decide whether or not to gather my 5-12 year old children to tell them what happened or to let parents tell their own children in their own ways with their own beliefs and explanations…or even what it all meant. Days later, I remember holding and asking one of my kindergarteners, whose father was killed in one of the planes that hit the Towers, to be my Assistant Principals for a period of time. He is twenty years old today. I may still have the poetry that he wrote for me that year. I remember that his Kindergarten teacher also died that very same year. Love,
Mom
Sent from my iPhone
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