Ordinarily
I wouldn't use the same author twice in a row, but it seems fitting to
replay David Kotok's thoughts from last year on the anniversary of 9/11.
Still fitting.
Great read, one of David's best ...
Reflections on 9/11
September 12, 2008
There
are two images that have not muted with time.
They are
exactly 84 months old.
After
seven years, these closed eyes still see the jumpers as vividly as I did that
morning. I counted five in the few minutes between the time I first
turned around to look at the smoldering North Tower and the time the second
explosion rocked the South Tower.
The couple holding hands and flinging
themselves out of an uppermost floor right below the “Windows” restaurant are
framed on my inner eyelids.
They
seemed so young to me. He had no jacket and tie. She had long hair
which was illuminated by the bright sun. It was hard to see much more
detail from that distance. Even now, as I write this, they still seem so
young. Yes, too young, they were much too young.
I often
speculate about what was in their minds.
They
were knowingly jumping from 100 stories to certain death. What was it
like for them with heat and smoke and carnage to bring them to that
action? This was before the second explosion and before the buildings
fell. This was an act determined by them and only by them before we
learned details of scheming Al Qaida monsters and their consummate evil.
Were
they young lovers?
Were
they a couple?
They
jumped holding hands. They fell clasped to each other for as long as they
could. They must have been plummeting a hundred miles an hour as their
rate of fall accelerated. Had they been at breakfast together on that
clear, blue sky, bright sun, welcoming beautiful autumn day? Did they
hold hands while walking to work that morning? The instant before
Mohammed Atta struck, that “September morning” was as appealing, tranquil and
inviting as one could imagine. Was it that way for them?
The
second explosion is the other image.
I was
then standing on the knoll across West St. and near the entrance to the
building where the escalator takes you up to a lobby and on to elevators that
rise to the Wall St. Journal offices.
Ancient
army training instinctively had me measure the size of the fireball. It
was 20 stories tall and about the same width. I counted the stories out
of instinct. I also counted the “flash-to-bang” time and determined that
I was between 4000 and 5000 feet from it. I could feel the heat
briefly as the shock waves rolled out from the blast. It made the loudest
sound I had heard since the ‘60s when I crawled on my belly next to an
artillery simulation pit at Fort Sam Houston, Texas.
My mind
surfaced the 23rd Psalm that morning as I stood on that knoll.
Looking
across West Street and down Liberty Street and beyond Broadway toward Wall St.
one had a vista of two smoking buildings, panicked and running people, chaotic
and sporadic emergency vehicle movements, injury and death.
Through all
of this, the bright sun and cloudless sky allowed a sharply defined shadow to
angle onto the buildings in the financial district. There are places here
where the sun never reaches the pavement, I thought. The nickname
“canyons of Wall St.” entered my consciousness. I cannot recall who
coined that phrase.
From the
metaphor of canyon and shadows the psalmist’s words leapt at me.
You are looking at the valley of the shadow of death, David.
At
that moment we felt calm and not panic. We pursued action not
frozenness. We moved decisively.
We
escaped and are here to tell about it and to contemplate.
Why
me?
Why
those jumpers?
Ancient
texts yearly ask that we reflect and personally examine that question.
Millennium old teachings say that an annual accounting is done in a spiritual
realm. Who shall live and who shall die? These things get
sealed yearly according to those traditions.
But good
deeds of charity and kindness can annul the judgment. That is also the
message imparted by those ancient teachings.
Maybe
that is why I recite the 23rd psalm? Why I keep it on my personal
bulletin board in my kitchen?
Maybe
that is why its final sentence is phrased so profoundly with the text that we
know?
David R.
Kotok, Chairman and Chief Investment Officer
Cumberland Advisors
614 Landis Avenue Vineland NJ 08360-8007
1-800-257-7013 http://www.cumber.com