The morning of September 11, 2001, I was at a conference on Latin American interests in higher education at the east campus of what was then Valencia Community College. Our panel discussion was interrupted by an announcement that something was happening in New York City that required cancelling the day’s events.
As I left the
auditorium, I got the first images of the initial airline strike on the Twin
Towers. I felt the bottom of my stomach drop out as I headed home.
Once there, my
husband and I watched the news coming out of New York and Washington. After a
few minutes of nausea as we watched the increasingly horrific events spilling
out of our nation’s beloved cities, I could take no more. And so we headed to
the nearby park on the rim of Lake Underhill to be outside, away from the
madness emanating from our television.
It was a
beautiful day here in the heart of Orlando. Sunny. Not too hot, a little drier
than normal. But what was striking was how quiet it was.
Our home is in
the overhead flight pattern for both the nearby Orlando Executive Airport and
the international airport south of town. There were no sounds of passing
jetliners bringing tourists to theme parks. The skies had been cleared. And
with the cordoning off of many government agencies and businesses by police,
the nearby roads were also clear.
And quiet.
That was when I
noticed the birds. Tall around us, they were chirping, warbling, singing. It
seemed their songs were a lot louder than normal. But they were simply doing
what they always did. It was the human generated noise that had been turned
down low. And in that unexpected resulting quiet, the beautiful concert of bird
song was not only audible, it was commanding.
I felt my heart
moved. I felt the angels were hovering above us in this time of great loss, in
our grief, anger and fears, reminding us that our Creator was present with us. Of
course, that is always true. But if we had ever needed that reminder, it was on
September 11, 2001.
The day would
drag on growing heavier and heavier with news from now three sites of tragedy.
I would scrupulously avoid the news for months after that but even the
slightest reminder of these tragedies produced tears every day for the next six
months. I sometimes wondered if I would ever stop weeping.
What I brought
away from that sunny afternoon with its avian concert amidst the unprecedented
quiet in the heart of my beloved city was that the birds were always there,
singing away, hoping to be noticed. That I was unaware of it suggested to me
that my life was way too busy.
I began to take
time to listen. And to this day, when I hear birds singing overhead, I stop,
listen, seeking the source out in the trees, and then offering my respect and
my gratitude for the gift they are constantly offering us all.
Image: Lake Underhill Park, Orlando, Florida
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If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding. Most things worth considering do not come in sound bites.
Those who believe religion and politics aren't connected don't understand either. – Mahatma Gandhi
For what does G-d require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your G-d? - Micah 6:8, Hebrew Scriptures
Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it. - Rabbi Rami Shapiro, Wisdom of the Jewish Sages (1993)
© Harry Scott Coverston, 2026
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