May 4, 2003
by Adam Garfinkle
Around noon on September 11, 2001, my son Gabriel, away at
college, called our house just outside of Washington and
left this message on the answering machine: "Mom, Dad,
Hannah, Nate: Is anybody there!? Is everyone OK? Dad, tell
me, please: What the hell is going on?!" When I heard the
message a few hours later, it made a lasting impression. My
handsome, brash and outwardly confident 19-year old's voice
was quavering, just shy of crying. I had never heard this
voice before, bu