What in the world is going on?

Oct. 5, 2001

"Even if you're scared, suck it up and move ahead."

-- New YorkMayor Rudolph Giuliani

Dear Ken,

At the golf course clubhouse one morning this week, I ran into my father and the group of friends he has a regular game with. The TV was tuned to CNN instead of the usual sports show. Big Al said he would give the Afghans a taste of the bombs that convinced Japan to stop fighting World War II. I was proud to hear my dad stick up for the innocent people who would be killed.

Big Al pointed out that thousands of innocents died Sept. 11.

Even if the Taliban were cooperative, many Americans are in no mood to arrest a crazed billionaire terrorist and some lieutenants in exchange for the lives of 6,000 countrymen and the devastation of their families.

In the days after the terrorists struck, Americans were kinder and gentler to each other than usual. Now anger seems to be setting in. I have less patience than usual with repairmen who don't show up for appointments. I want to yell at them for wasting my time but don't because I know the anger is at this unconscionable assault on humanity, not at having to wait.

DC's chronic case of Computer Rage nearly overwhelmed her this week. Her threat to throw our Compaq out a second-story window sounded more serious than usual.

Both of us have slept fitfully the past few days. The lamp beside our bed and the TV are on when I get home from work. A CNN correspondent is giving the latest reaction from Kabul. DC is asleep but her face looks troubled, not peaceful. I go back downstairs and watch more news shows myself until exhaustion turns them into a blur. Awakening a few hours later, I find DC watching more dispatches from the Middle East and the State Department.

All of us are trying to figure out what in the world is going on.

DC fears another attack, maybe biological this time, but finds hope in the strength of New York's mayor. My fears orbit the possibility that the whole Muslim world could turn against us if we blunder.

Sept. 11 has become a dividing line in history, both world and personal.

The weekend before, I drove across the state to play in my first-ever golf tournament. I'm accustomed to playing with people who congratulate good shots and commiserate with bad ones. Playing with people who just wanted to beat me left my hands disconnected from my body, my swing more like a jerk.

Travis, one of my playing partners, silently sucked on a lipful of Copenhagen and stared down his upcoming shots like a gunfighter. He couldn't have cared less about anyone else in the tournament. His focus on the job before him was intense, maybe too intense. Travis was a good golfer but not quite as good when he was angry about misfortune.

As a model, I lean toward the cool assurance of the men who play against each other every day at noon at the city golf course. These men have arranged their lives so they can play golf together nearly every day. Many are retired. Others find a way to ditch work for two hours in the middle of the day.

They play through rain and August heat and most every condition. They joke with each other while thoroughly knowing each other's strengths and weaknesses and idiosyncrasies.

They are reassuring, these men, most of them veterans. They don't hit the ball as far as they once did but they know there are many different ways to win.

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian