Dear Friends, Family and all,

I need to put down the myriad feelings of the past few days before I let them go.

Jim and I were coming home from a fantasy cruise up the inside passage of Alaska -- full of ease and happiness. We landed in Minneapolis-St. Paul early on Tuesday morning - a layover on the way to Nashville - and were caught in the panic and terror that swept our nation that morning. I looked at the sheer horror mirrored on the face of the pilot speaking on the phone at the check-in desk and knew that catastrophe had hit. Through the next few hours, while the airport rescheduled and finally cancelled flights, I lived the nightmare of trying to get messages to loved ones; and getting reservations that were cancelled again and again.

I sat with a stranger's luggage till I was told I had to leave. I had long since lost Jim who had gone to hunt our luggage and try to get a place at a motel.

I went down to chaos in the baggage claim area. Jim and I found each other -- and hours later found luggage in a pile that had been dumped in haste. And through all this I stopped and asked different people what was being said over speakers and was never turned away. There was patience and kindliness on the faces of the over-wrought workers at Northwestern. No one was stepped on. When I struggled with a bag too heavy, someone came by and lifted it for me. There was fear and panic, but it was laced with concern for others.

Jim and I finally got to a clean and comfortable motel -- where I realized the real depth of terror and tragedy that had hit our nation.

The next morning our dear friend at the Chattanooga AAA found us one of the last rental cars available in Minneapolis and we rode down, my dear friends, through America's heartland -- through the country that made me sing in my heart over and over, "Oh beautiful, for spacious skies,” We listened on the radio to the strength and sheer guts of people caught in terror and tragedy. I saw flags on mail boxes and hung from bridges and saw courage on faces of people searching for their loved ones.

My heart tugged as we stopped after three days of travel, at the sandwich shop on Monteagle mountain, and I faced the shuttered expression on the face of the "far-eastern" man who runs the Subway -- and I prayed that our nation wouldn't give into racial hate and discrimination as we did in WWII. And somehow, I don't think we will.

Home now, so grateful to live in a nation that is free and easy-going and when the pinch comes -- so strong, courageous and willing to give its all. Thanks, all of you, for being a part of that nation -- I have had an experience of a lifetime.

Sally Wilbanks
Signal Mountain