This editorial in today's NY Times has haunted me all day.

The Call Of all the heart-rending stories that emerged from Tuesday's disaster, what resonates most, somehow, is the thought of those phone calls that went out in the all-too-brief gap between the first airliner's crash into the World Trade Center and the towers' final collapse.

People trapped in hijacked airplanes or burning buildings picked up their cell phones, or swiped a credit card through the phone on the back of a seat, and made a final call. Facing sudden death, they were given the chance to say a few last words to a loved one. Almost invariably, they chose things that they probably said every day — I love you. Take care of the children. Take care of yourself. The sentiments surely sounded inadequate as they were spoken, if only because they would have to stand in for a lifetime of words that could no longer be said.

In almost every human tragedy, there is an ungraspable gap between the ordinary, everyday objects that somehow become absorbed in it and the gravity of the event itself. Cell phones have become such routine, indispensable irritants in ordinary life that we forget the ways they have reinvented the act of conversation. Because of the informality that often arises from the frequency with which we use them, we tend to talk on them with friends and family almost as if we were together in person, saying nothing much, perhaps, in the unexpressed knowledge that the joy of talking together regularly doesn't require saying much. All that matters sometimes — and for some people Tuesday was one of those times — is the sound of a welcome voice.

Since cell-phone technology first came into common use in the past few years, there have been instances where someone trapped, nearing death, was able to call home and say goodbye. But there has been no instance like that on Tuesday, when so many doomed people called the most meaningful number they knew from wherever they happened to be and prayed that someone would pick up on the other end. Some were disappointed, and left messages on answering machines.

Nearly all the conversations that took place as the disaster unfolded would have been unmemorable if it weren't clear that the person on one end of the line was facing death. That phrase, "facing death," is a very old one, so familiar that we have forgotten how literal its meaning can be. Most of us face away from dying. That is part of what being alive means. But on Tuesday morning, an uncounted number of humans knowingly turned their faces toward death — even if they only meant to escape down the stairwell — and as they did so pressed the talk button on their cell phones. What haunts us in the aftermath is the silence at those numbers that have now gone out of service.

-- Eve (eve_rebekah@yahoo.com), September 14, 2001

Answers

Sorry about the formatting. As I'm sure you've figured out anyway, the title of the piece is "The Call", which got jumbled together with the first paragraph.

-- Eve (eve_rebekah@yahoo.com), September 14, 2001.

What haunts me the most is the photo in our newspaper of a man seemingly suspended in mid-air as he plunged head-first off one of the Towers. What a horrendous decision he (and others) faced: To burn to death or to jump. (Some choices!) For most of us, death will probably sneak up when we least expect it and, hopefully, be quick and relatively painless (car accident, heart attack, stroke, etc). For many of those poor souls, they knew the agony of knowing their demise was imminent and in some cases they were forced to choose the method of their passing. I cannot begin to imagine what it must have been like for them and even now it moves me to tears.

-- My (CandlesAre@Lit.com), September 14, 2001.

I dislike cellphones, and won't own one. They've cheapened the value of conversation, in ways that are sometimes only apparent in situations such as described here. The last thing on my mind in such a case would be calling my spouse to let them know I was aware I was going to die shortly. Just exactly who would that benefit?? Not the person you're calling, by any stretch. It's far kinder and much less selfish to let them think afterwards that the end came fast and unexpectedly, and that you suffered very little, or not at all. Misery loves company, but calling to say, "Honey, I'm dead" is bad form no matter how you look at it.

In any event, in such horrific circumstances, facing imminent death, contacting the One that I'd be trying to reach wouldn't require a cellphone.

-- cell-less (nophone@this.place), September 14, 2001.

I know this will piss you atheists off, but death & destruction in america=has just STARTED!! READ the BIBLE=SMART ASS!!

-- al-d. (dogs@zianet.com), September 15, 2001.

If I were about to die, the most comforting thing I could think of would be that I had the chance to say goodbye to the people I loved. It would be much more frightening to think I was about to die and would never get to tell someone how much I loved them and would miss them....the purpose was surved there alone.

One of the things people speak most of in councling..after experiencing the unexpected death of a loved one...is not having gotten to say good bye. I think it helps everyone to have had that final contact.

-- kritter (kritter@adelphia.net), September 15, 2001.