One guy trapped at the top of one of the WTC towers was calling his sibs, asking them to take care of his wife and kids as he probably wasn't going to make it. Another called his mother from the plane to tell her he loved her, since hijackers had taken over the plane and he was sure they were all going to die soon.

I'm trying now to imagine myself doing this, calling my wife Robbie to say goodbye. What would I want to say? Here's my first take on it:

"Hey Sweetie, I'm in a tight spot here and it doesn't look like I'll be able to make it out alive, so I wanted to call you. I'm so glad to have known and loved you, to have made a life together that I've cherished. I'm a better man because of you. And after grieving for me for a little while, then I hope you move on, do what needs to be done to be happy and keep contributing to the world like always.

I hope you find someone else to love and grow old with. Use what we learned in our marriage to make that relationship as rich and deep as it can be. I want that for you. We're both lucky to have lived a rich and rewarding life together. 28 years - not bad, eh? I know, I was hoping to add at least 50 and maybe 75 more to that but shit happens and we've been luckier than most. So goodbye now. I'll be holding you in my heart all the way to the end. Thanks for being there with me. I love you."

If I had time to call my kids, what would I want to say?

"Hey kids, it's your pappy! It looks like I'm not going to make it here, so I thought I'd call you to say goodbye. I'm so glad and lucky to have been your father, to have enjoyed the years with you and seen you grow into young adults that I'm both proud of and enjoy being around. I'm so pleased that you guys like one another and enjoy being around each other. Don't ever take that for granted... work at it, like you'd work at any other relationship.

You are part of my legacy, my afterlife. So I hope you do what needs to be done to live a satisfying life, full of enjoyment as well as contributions to the world that live on after you. I'd be pleased. After you're done grieving for me, I hope you carry me in your hearts in a way that feels good. I'll carry you in my heart right up to the end. And that feels good. Thanks for being there with me. I love you."

Is this grim to write this? I don't think so, but maybe Robbie and the kids will, so I'll guess I'll ask them. But to me, it's good to say it now. Any of us could die without having a chance to say these things to our loved ones, so why the hell not now?

Yes. But it's hard to imagine that the violence the US used in WW II made things worse than what would've happened had we not done anything. Whatever violence we end up inflicting on the countries who harbored the terrorists, I hope we do it in a way that doesn't make things worse in the long run.

The world is focused on the acts of terrorism unfolding this morning. It's likely that many thousands of people have been killed. But I disagree with Powell... like Dec. 7, 1941, it will shape our national consciousness for years to come. We'll likely become a more warlike country, undestandably so, and we'll probably make mistakes along the way which will make things worse. Social issues of all kinds will take a back seat.

It's a sad and dark day in human history.

I wonder why this philosophy of life has not seeped its way more deeply into our cultural consciousness.

I like this philosophy. I can laugh pretty immediately at my goofs on the racquetball court. Yesterday, I laughed at and immediately told my daughter about my absentmindedly trying to place a handful of chopped onions into a container with the lid still on it. I hope I can do it for more embarrassing acts.

No matter what might happen to Real Joe Radio, I need to remember this. If it's not helpful, if it's not helping to achieve the mission, then it shouldn't feel good in my heart.

It's one of the great satisfactions of our parenthood to see how much our kids seem to like one another and like being around one another. Neither Robbie or I experienced it and we still struggle to get closer to our sibs. So we're really fortunate to have our kids be this way with one another.

I have a racquetball tourney coming up in two weeks. I'd like to ride the remaining trials in September and October. I'd like to do weekend biking with Gilly and maybe camp a weekend or two. And go to the Rennaisance Festival. And we have two September birthdays, including mine. How I am going to fit this all in?

I used to approach these dilemmas with anxiety. Now I approach them as great problems to have, that whatever I choose can be as good as any other.

It occurred to me while I was walking in the Arb yesterday that I never see anyone walking by themselves. I see plenty of runners, people walking their dogs, couples, but no solitary slow walkers. I'm just waking up to this form of SOS but surely there are lots of others in town who've discovered it.

It also occurred to me that my life seems to go better when I take time to walk, that I need to think of it as important as taking my vitamins and exercising and flossing my teeth. It reminded me of Polly Berrien Berends saying that you needed to pray three times per day, just like eating. I've started taking a stroll along the Riverwalk in the morning while drinking my breakfast drink, about 9 am or so. And I've been asking Robbie to walk more in the evenings with me. Maybe when Robbie's gone in the evening, I should ask Gilly to walk. In another week, though, I'll be asking her to go biking, as she'll have her recumbent. Still, walking slowly is different, so I best not think of biking as a substitute. Maybe I better do it a few times before her bike comes.

I've gone on several walks by myself in the past week, and I'm enjoying it more and more. Last night I walked our dog along a cemetary, taking in the golden light of a gorgeous sunset. Occasional distracting thoughts crept in, but I'm getting better at giving them a gentle boot.

Today, it's cloudy and threatening rain, more difficult to go for a walk and experience the same sense of contentment. But I plan to do it anyway.

The rituals for a death in a midwest farming community seemed to do much to aid the grieving and healing for both her family and the community. The long line of mourners, with each person talking to her parents in view of the open casket. The displays depicting her school, church, and community involvement. The readings and music at the funeral service. Individuals placing flowers on her casket over the grave. Doves released into the sky.

I prepared myself for a cornball eulogy from the Lutheran pastor, but he nailed it. God allows suffering but he doesn't cause it. A curse on anyone who says that God called her home. Bad things happen to good people all the time. Lots of personal anecdotes. His own grief was evident but he kept a lid on it, so as not to distract from his message: reach out to God for help with healing.

This tragedy hits close to home, beyond just knowing the family. I have a 15 year-old daughter. One of my sons almost died in a car accident at age 17. And yet I really have no idea what it's like for her parents. I admired the way they handled themselves at the wake and funeral. Openly weeping one moment, laughing the next, absorbing the outpouring of community love, and returning it with gratitude. I don't know that they'll be fine, but it sure appears so. Still, I wonder how this will change them.