9/12

When I think about 9/11 in NYC and after, i remember the silence. A lot of talk lately has been raised about what song or songs might commemorate the event. I can't even relate in those terms. One of my most vivid memories was sitting in a restaurant with my wife a day or two after. People gravitated towards restaurants and bars. It's New York, to a large extent, that's your living room … But the omnipresent soundtrack was nonexistent. We found ourselves at a table and all of the sudden the entire room was talking to one another. Very non-NYC. Conspiracies, exit plans, where were you??? did you know anyone???. Out of nowhere, music came on. I'll never forget a waiter leaping to turn it off. The sound was jarring to everyone there. Post 9/11 was the first time I've ever experienced the 'life as we know it will never exist again' feeling. Music was an 'it's too soon' feeling.

A month or so later, I wrote a song called "Wanderlust" piecing my thoughts after the event. It was released in 2003 subtitled "9/12 song". A new start. I don't know if anyone recalls how torrential the rain was the night after the attack.

In 2006, after several miscarriages and some trying times, my wife was pregnant and our due date was 9/11. Later that year she gave birth to our son. He was born on 9/12/06.

the wait

our daughter's adoption paper's are fully executed. they sit on the new president of Haiti Martelly's desk to be signed ... the wait is excruciating.

haiti: back to the future part III day three/four

at 6:30PM on good friday, g, helen, the baby & i sit in a dingy doctor's office in a clinic down the road from our hotel lit by a single light bulb on a side wall asking ourselves once again, "how the hell did we get here"?

it was decided that the baby would stay with us at the hotel all day friday. she arrived with marie and toto around 10am. she'd fallen asleep en route, so i immediately took her into out room. g stayed behind to "converse" with marie. marie is wonderful, but without a real translator, it's not easy.

i took the baby into our room and she slept. it was an amazing hour for me. for once, i could literally watch her unencumbered. i felt bad for g, but she joined us soon enough, as toto drove marie home.

we were both standing over her as she awoke and she turned her eyes from me to g. i'm used to kids crying waking up. this was more like, 'yeah, seen you … uhm, where am i?' and this went on for 5 minutes, despite our attempts.

the day went relatively well, however, we'd noticed a lot her symptoms from before were still present. listlessness, a constant cough, a running nose (green snot), and of course the hernia. obviously, we knew the hernia would be dealt with in the states, however, the other still persistent symptoms needed to be dealt with. we felt a trip to the local deli-mart might help for some children's tylenol.

it was decided that helen, julia and i would make the walk as toto and wilguens were elsewhere during the afternoon. as i mentioned before, this was significant, as we'd never left the hotel on our own. the walk was fine. nothing much to speak of. the girls got some attention as we approached the crowded crossroads gas station, but all was good. unfortunately, from a short distance we could see the deli-mart was closed. it was late afternoon on good friday after all. we had basically run out of options and decided to return to the hotel.

as we're walking back i notice a dental office sign and the girls go through the gate and noticed a medical clinic upstairs. there was a nurse/receptionist at a desk in the front, and an old caribbean friend at the far end of the room … a blaring television (blown speaker optional) watched by no one. today being good friday was also "jesus movie day" in haiti. every channel ran cheesy 50s-70s american made jesus biopics. as i passed numerous tvs during the day, JC got blonder, whiter and more blue-eyed with each flick. his hair lighter and fluffier. like those moonlighting close-ups of cybill shepherd.

a doctor was summoned and through the miracle of broken french against gospel cacophony, a bottle of children's tylenol was produced in record time. he refused money for it, which was so typical in these cases-- and we could tell they needed money. we humbly thanked the staff and quickly returned to the hotel.

overreaction is def an american thing … parental overreaction is a new day epidemic. when we returned, we gave her meds, but we grew increasingly concerned about the baby's listlessness. supposition gave way to honorary med degrees for all and in no time, we were headed back down the sidewalk to the clinic. g, helen, myself and the baby making double time as daylight geared up for last call.

the tv was louder this time … and had a viewer. jesus was giving the loaves and fishes address. 'we need to see the doctor'. nurse/receptionist lost a little of her english in our attempts to speak french. finally a cheery patient with decent english, walking with a drip cart (if you have a better name for it, please let me know), and a ravenous desire to talk brooklyn neighborhoods arrived to help with the discourse. after about 10 minutes we were led into dingy doctor's office … lit by a single light bulb on a far wall … no tv, but kinda-tuned radio playing low enough to drive you insane. our goal was antibiotics, pure and simple. we have no doubt when baby gets here, a dose of US meds will solve all that ails, but in the meantime, since we have no idea how long that will be, we need her on something. this leads to another discussion with nurse/receptionist. it is divulged we are adopting her. lightbulb goes off over nurse's head. she departs and returns. 'that will be $100'. i don't care to even ask what for, the 3 of us root through pockets and come up with a quick $100. she departs again and returns with blood test equipment. she approaches baby to start doing some vitals and cool customer baby wows us with her first ever FREAKOUT. it's then that we start to realize nurse has completely misunderstood us and thinks we need a complete blood work analysis done for adoption purposes-- something that was done months ago. it's at this moment that helen also sees the word "antibiotiques" on a poster … ok, this will be easy … no blood test needed, this "antibiotiques" word here, and we'll be on our way … no such luck.

from this moment on, we became sort of, trapped in the darkest doctor's office in the world. it began with us saying, 'you know what, we'll just get out of here'. we'd decided maybe it was just better to get her home and to her own doctor first thing in the morning (something that might have crossed our mind an hour earlier!!!). 'we'll just take the $100 back and be on our way'. nurse is getting a little weird, coming and going. keeps the 'stay right here, doctor is coming to sort this out' thing to the nth degree. gets a little rashomon here. narrator is thinking cut losses get the hell out of dodge, helen thinks that THEY might think there is something untoward going on and they're calling authorities, and g wants some GOTDAM antibiotics. whichever was best or worst decision is moot as nurse walks back in in complete stall mode … 'THE DOCTOR IS COMING NOW' … pregnant pause

ACT III.

literally out of nowhere, the door opens and toto bursts through. my first thought was 'toto's a doctor???' julia follows right behind. i'm still piecing this together as toto is freaking. 'i came back to the hotel and you were gone! i started crying thinking something had happened! we came right here!' words cannot describe how much i adore this man. within a minute, he bulldozed our way out … yeah, $100 lighter … that's a donation i'm proud to have made. i don't think there was ill intent, just a lot of miscommunication. i'm sure they're still telling the story of the crazy american's …

the baby was asleep as we got into toto's car and headed back down the road. another pitch black drive to croix-des-bouquets. as we approach the end of the drive the silence is suddenly broken by the sounds of a rah rah on the roadside. if you're unfamiliar, it's very much in the same vein as the second line in new orleans. a traveling party of drums, brass and whatever else makes it. they were directly across the street from marie's house. soundtrack to our baby's arrival. toto called marie's name from the yard, the house girls quickly grabbed the baby and brought her inside. she woke and we said our goodbyes hopefully for the last time.

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the drive to the airport was brief. i couldn't stop thinking about my son. i was worried about the flight. i hate that my wife and i are on the same flight. i had actually been having dreams leading up to our trip that our flight didn't make it. my take off and landing ritual on every leg was a quietly spoken apology to my son. this is not fair to him. as great as the outcome will be, it's not fair to roll those dice. but i have to remind myself, neither is walking out the door in the morning.

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this is the first time returning that we've actually seen our son a bit unbalanced by our being gone so long. don't get me wrong, he had a blast with his various grandparents and cousins, but he was a little demanding of answers when we returned. as he should be.

haiti: back to the future part III day two (pt. 3)

as much as there are intense moments on our travels in Haiti, there are a lot of, well, really fun times. we meet really amazing Haitian and foreign people most everywhere we go.

a recurring theme on this trip has been the church across the highway from us. being easter week, it's been going non-stop. singing, shouting, reveling into the early, early morning.

our hotel is located in tabarre, on the outskirts of port-au-prince. you don't leisurely take strolls outside of the hotel compound for many reasons: 1) safety-- not so much from the haitian people, but from the insane driving that takes place, and the random sinister element that we've heard exists but have never seen (maybe that's why the security guys in our hotel carry metal detectors???), 2) we generally don't return home until dark … and 3) let's be honest, third world is third world and this is suburb third world. you absolutely can't drink the water, and as fellow traveler kate pointed out, the vegetables at the vegetable stand (while very fresh looking) are lying in ditches surrounded by and supported by garbage. so, unless you yearn to play a dicey looking form of lotto, have an itch to pull the last 3 feathers off a live rooster, or fancy a used "#1 college football star" t-shirt, you wait for toto or wilguens who actually know what they're doing.

as day two wound down we enjoyed a favorite custom. drinks by the pool. it's a good decompression chamber, and a great meet and greet if you're so inclined. tonight we met manny. we'd met him in a previous trip, but needed to reintroduce ourselves. he'd seen us with the baby and was interested to see what was up. he's an engineer who's been in country and staying at the hotel for about 8 months now. interesting as hell and a good guy. he's traveled the world and we hit it off immediately. over the course, the topic inevitably turns to the church. he's "been". would "recommend it". the rest of us kick it around, maybe tomorrow. one by one, our group heads off to bed, but manny and i are hanging …

so (??? beers later), the waiters had gone home and manny closes the bar (yes, he wields that power). he and i shuffle off to our rooms. just as i turn to the left to head home, i hear manny mutter, "let's go to church" … followed by me saying "sure". next thing i know the hotel security guy is sliding the huge metal gate open and letting us out of the compound. instantly we're trying to cross the road while gas trucks barrel in front of us. we finally find our way across the dusty road into the church. some teenagers make space for us. there are people asleep at our feet and strewn throughout the pews, but most everyone is alive! it's 1:30AM and the church is completely packed. AND it's the church i've always wanted! i was raised southern baptist, but i always felt gipped. we got the gospel, but not the fire and brimstone-- and definitely not the call and response in rhythm. ours was tempered. this was all fire. i was in (ed. note, please don't say it) HEAVEN! it was nonstop. kind of a jerry lewis telethon model. when one speaker was spent another came right up. literally the gospel experience of a lifetime … all too soon we realized it was REALLY LATE, we crossed the road, banged on the giant gate … sleep.

haiti: back to the future part III day two (pt. 2)

after our trip to port-au-prince, we headed back to the hotel to grab the 500 lbs of relief supplies (YEAH! FIVE HUNDRED!!!!) we'd gathered together from donations, etc and drove to the camp we've been sponsoring since last year. it's moved since our last visit from one side of the town of cabaret to the other.

our relationship with madame, the proprietress, has become very strained since getting the baby out. she's called our partner in our organization to complain that we've gotten what we wanted and have moved on. that's obviously not true, but i'm not going to lie, we don't trust her, and therefore are a lot more careful in our dealings.

i'm just going to dive in to this next part. we'd heard some unpleasant rumblings about changes at the camp since the move. to put it bluntly, we'd heard there was a possibility that the kids we've met over the past year were sold to another orphanage. a completely mortifying thought, but in the context of the situation, a business decision. i know how hideous that sounds, and i agree, but let's be honest, many of these "orphanages" are nothing more than small businesses. set one up, and relief organizations such as ours will randomly show up and drop off food, clothing, and etc that are all in effect "currency". children can be sold to another leader so they can start their own "small business". it's not an easy life, but it is setting yourself up with a job.

we learned early on not to expect the t-shirt you put on one of the kids was going to be there the next time you arrived. to a certain extent, it's understandable. certain camps have certain needs, and if your camp isn't eating, why the hell shouldn't you sell extra clothing to get food? but it is disheartening when you show up and the kids look worse than they did at your last visit. welcome to haiti … again.

after our visit last fall, we had zero expectations for the camp. in september, we found them dirtier than usual and starved. we've continued shipments of food and supplies, but must admit, since that visit our heads have been in a different place. en route, we decided to visit the original camp first to see what was going on there (and if any of the kids were left there). we also wanted to show our friends where it was we'd liberated the baby. with the camp gone, it was a dusty field, nothing more. when we called at the door of the condemned structures next door, a couple of people greeted us with a "nothing to see here" pose and pointed us to madame's new place a couple miles away. we found out later that D, the baby's mother, was most likely living there.

we drove back through the crowded markets of cabaret and took the sharp left turn towards madame's new camp. we hadn't notified them about our arrival. the last thing we needed was another "show" visit. instantly upon seeing the kids we were a bit relieved. we recognized a lot of faces. on the other hand, they were filthy, ringworm was rampant, and they STUNK. whatever the smells, within seconds they were in our arms, and as always it was an amazing experience handing out candy, toys, food, and best of all clothing. the kids are so into having their own clothes. it's heartbreaking when you run out and there are still kids waiting. our friends were great and the smaller kids adored the attention.

the new camp is actually an upgrade from the previous … much more space, more heavy-grade tents, a few playground items for the smaller ones, and a semblance of school activities. but there were many troubling elements. the older girls acted very odd. several of the 11-14 year olds we've known for over a year and that 6-months ago were so full of life have become dead-eyed and standoffish. there was also a pushy new adult there moving the kids around with a belt attached to a stick. i'll try not to connect the dots.

we returned to our hotel and enjoyed dinner (well, all but the food) with the baby, her foster mother (who i suddenly realized is uncannily like my maternal grandmother), our old friend closter and our right hand men toto and wilguens. during the meal, we skyped with my parents and our son. technically, the first meeting between brother and sister.

haiti: back to the future part III day two (pt. 1)

in retrospect, a day unlike i've had before … i guess i say that a lot here.

we decided to start the day with a drive through port-au-prince to give our friends a sense of what this is all about. if you're going to get the full-scope of how immense the problem is, and how distant the solutions are, it's mandatory.

i'm encouraged after our last trip that the majority of the rubble is gone. i literally don't know how that was accomplished. we were there six months ago and i lamented that it looked just as it did six months prior. there's still enough ruins to get a sense of the scale, but it was bizarrely refreshing to let port-au-prince unnerve you on its own terms. as i've stated before, i hope to never go there again in its present state. it's still the worst place i've been on earth. i wish there was a machine that could empty the city, wipe it out and start all over.

it was an excruciatingly long drive which really began to overwhelm us all. i've been to port-au-prince several times now, and it's mind-numbing to take it on a wide scale. this was echoed by our friends.

on a final note, we stopped for lunch in the city, and ordering off the menu, i had the weirdest sandwich of all time. fresh baked wheat bread (very good) topped with brie, lettuce, tomato, onions, ketchup, hot sauce, and … yellow mustard … yep, and again, it tasted like a whopper.

haiti: back to the future part III day one

a pretty chill trip so far. when remembering hating your flight 7 hours in country, you know something's different. and there is something different in the air. keep in mind we haven't traveled to port-au-prince or the camp, but it's in the air that life has moved on. rubble has been removed from the outlying areas, and from i can ascertain, people are happy about the upcoming martelly presidency. hell, even hopeful-- something i could not have imagined a year ago. but i remind myself, croix-des-bouquets was relatively okay a year ago.

we're here with 3 friends on their first trip to haiti. that's a difference too. the last trip was so single minded. get the baby out of the camp. a mission. this trip is like a recap, a revisit. a chance to put faces and places to our stories. for us, it's so important to get actual eyes on this …

we reconvened with our friends wilguens and toto at the airport, quickly dropped off our supplies for the camp at the hotel and headed to croix-des-bouquets to see the baby. the last time we'd been was in darkness, and i couldn't really remember exactly what the house looked like, just the gate along the road. as we approached the town, i felt a nervousness that approached ridiculousness. 'is that the house???' i wanted to ask toto to tell me when we were 5 minutes away so i could better prepare. this little girl has wrapped me up and tied. i shudder for my future. i was pondering incessantly her first look at us.

we arrived, and her foster mom and attendants gleefully and dutifully sat us in the front room. it was akin to waiting for your prom date. when she finally arrived, it was magic. seeing her safe, loved and surrounded by older kids was amazing. and she was pure happiness. getting her out of that camp might be the greatest personal achievement of our lives.

we returned to la colombe hotel (i'm now realizing the hotel pays homage to a guy who did this island ABSOLUTELY no good!), and ate another in a series of bad meals. we'd all been up since 4AM. it was 8PM and felt like midnight … and now we're ending the night sleeping in the caribbean with sweatshirts on cause we can't reach the AC to turn it off ... bonswa