Death's sting reaches across thousands of miles

This story I am about to tell you will be repeated in many forms -- different names, circumstances, locations -- countless times in the days and weeks to come. It is a sad story. I am telling you that, because we've had more than a lifetime of sadness this week. You may not want any more. But here's the story of how Tuesday's tragedy affected my family:

Millions of telephone calls Tuesday began: "All circuits are busy."

Which is not what you want to hear when you have a son in Washington and a brother in New York.

When it became obvious there had been terrorist attacks, my wife called from her office. "Have you talked to Jason?" No, I said. Older son's Washington phone number was at home. My wife offered to go get it, but I said I was closer.

As soon as I got the number from the kitchen cabinet where really important things -- extra car keys, a flashlight, Scotch tape, a screwdriver small enough to repair eyeglasses -- are kept, I dialed. And dialed. And dialed. "All circuits are busy." A few minutes later, I dialed again. Miraculously, Jason answered on the first ring. He was home watching the coverage on TV, just like most every other American. Even though he was not more than 10 miles from the Pentagon, he couldn't see any smoke. The major highway visible from his window was congested, "but that's normal." I hung up and called my wife. She exhaled a long sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, I had been getting the same recorded message when trying to reach David, my brother in New York. When I tried again Tuesday afternoon, the call went through. Voice mail. How comforting. Finally, late Wednesday, David called. He's OK.

Younger son was safe, I thought to myself. He lives and works in Ireland but travels all over Europe, Asia and Africa as part of his job. He frequently flies to Cairo -- the one in Egypt -- where his British fiancee, an Egyptologist by way of Topeka, Kan., lives and works.

For our sons, the world is small. Hopping from country to country and continent to continent is for them the equivalent of the trips my wife and I take to another county or another state.

As it turned out, the son we thought was insulated the most from Tuesday's terror was hit the hardest.

I sent this e-mail to Dublin just to let Brendan know we were thinking of him: "I guess by now you've seen or heard about the terrorist attacks in New York and Washington. We're fine. Talked to Jason, and he's watching CNN. What's the reaction there?"

The response came Wednesday morning. Here's Brendan's story:

"The reaction here is one of shock, much like anywhere else. The Irish Times headline reads 'War of the Worlds,' while The Irish Independent simply reads 'HORROR.'

"I was in the U.S. Embassy trying to get a new passport -- all my pages are full, and that confuses them in Cairo -- when the Marines came in and told everyone to leave. As we were escorted out the front doors we saw the barricades going up on the fences and the flag coming down to half-staff. Kind of knew something was up when that happened. I didn't find out what really happened until I came back to the office. Of course the Internet doesn't work worth a crap when every person in the industrialized world is using it, so we went to the pub across the street along with every other office worker in the area.

"Ireland basically shut down to watch.

"Spent the night calling people. Most are fine, but my friend Dustin died in the World Trade Center. He worked in the Koch office there. I got through to his home in Kansas about 3 this morning and spoke with one of his aunts. He had used his cell phone to call his girlfriend to tell her he was trying to get out when she heard the building collapse. What do you say to your best friend's family when that happens? Dustin and I were in college together for four years. He was my roommate for three of them. Guess I will be going back to Kansas sooner than I thought.

"Spent the rest of the night shuttling between CNN and Sky1. No real news anymore, but it seems so surreal. It really is beyond comprehension. -- BGS."

Yes, we remember Dustin. In our yard is a limestone post. It's a 6-foot-long treasure from Lincoln County in Kansas -- Post Rock Country, the signs on Interstate 70 say -- where it was pulled, with Dustin's help, from the shallow topsoil homesteaded by his ancestral pioneers.

Tragedy truly knows no bounds.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.