September 11, 2001 my mother called me on the phone and without saying hello, said “We are at war.” I hadn’t spoken to her for several weeks, which was unusual for us, and I wasn’t sure if her war declaration was referring to our personal situation, or…what?
I had given birth to twins not quite a year before this. For months, my mother had been valiant in her efforts to help me deal with this new family situation for which I was woefully underprepared. She showed up every single day without fail to change diapers, fix food, wash dishes, fold laundry and hold babies. She was always at my house. What a gift!
But, did I mention she was always at my house? As much as I needed and appreciated this level of assistance, sometimes a new mom just wants a little space to figure stuff out on her own. That's the conclusion I’d arrived at by late August 2001. It was hot. We were in between AC units. I was constantly feeding someone or trying to get someone to sleep, all on 3 hours of sleep myself. My brain was scrambled, and I really wasn’t thinking straight.
So, something—trivial, probably—broke the camel’s back and my mother and I had a major blow-out. I was trying to save my sanity with schedules and routines, and these plans of mine seemed like the most important thing in the world. My mother’s perpetual laissez-faire attitude towards time management felt like a problem. There could only be one mom running the show, and I was determined it would be me. My way or the highway, pal. Never one for a soft touch when a blunt stick would do the trick, I managed to drive her away.
My mother finally ended the weeks-long silence between us when she called that morning to tell me of the “war,” as she understood it. When it came to current events, she tended towards hyperbole—probably because she got most of her information from radical news outlets. I, on the other hand, was oblivious to anything going on in the world beyond my own four walls. I switched on the TV and watched enough of it to get the terrible gist of things, and said to her, “Come over.”
For better or worse, my mother and I never talked about our big rift, or why we’d been so angry with each other. We simply started again. Maybe that’s the best we could do, and certainly there were bigger problems in the world than ours.
I am mainly telling you my personal, underwhelming 9/11 story today, so that I can share a new song. Bill and I actually started working on this one, “Overnight,” nearly a decade ago. It’s inspired by the events of 9/11. At this rate, I might just live long enough to finish writing all my pandemic songs!
Stay peaceful, y’all!
Look how cute those lil babies are!!! Thanks for sharing. I am new to this sub stack, so at first I wasn't sure what this email was - spam? Glad I read it. I was just recently reflecting on my own 9/11 experience so it was nice to read someone else's. A good way to reflect on the day.
I’m pretty sure I say the same thing every time but it always bears repeating. I just love your writing. Thank you. And oh my goodness those delicious babies! And “between air conditioners.” I remember days like that, no a/c, but I don’t remember how I survived it.