The quiet road home

By Susan Powers: My husband, Garth, and I were in California, celebrating our 30th anniversary and visiting my youngest brother and his family.

We were still in bed that morning when our nieces knocked on our door to tell us our daughter from Omaha was on the phone and talking about the U.S. being under attack. My nieces were sort of giggling, not sure what to make of it, until I took the phone and they saw that I was like a deer in a headlight, trying to comprehend what I was now hearing from my daughter.

Our daughter called later to let us know that President Bush would be landing in Omaha and how frightened she felt with the feeling he might be a target in her city and not knowing what might happen next.

We ran to the television, and there we sat for the remainder of the day. My 14-year-old niece sadly told my brother she didn't want to see any more. He firmly told her that we were going to continue to watch and that she needed to understand “we are at war.” To this day, those words -- “we are at war” -- give me goose bumps.

It was not the first time my brother had said, “We are war.” The first time was when we heard about the second plane attack, and we realized that this was no accident. I remember the chill I felt when I saw the look on his face and the realization that he was right.

The next day was our anniversary -- the 12th of September –- and so we took a drive to San Diego to try to distract ourselves. While on the drive, our Cedar Rapids Realtor called to tell us she had an offer on our home that was for sale at the time. This phone call was so surreal, almost like a dream. I am thinking, the U.S. is under attack and someone wants to buy our home?! How bizarre is that? We accepted the offer and went on to San Diego.

Not knowing when we might fly again, we made the decision to drive home that evening. The car rental agency (after several hours on the phone, trying to reach someone) said their management was advising people to do whatever was needed to get to their destination. So we hit the road, spending the first night in Las Vegas (a relatively quiet Las Vegas). We hit the road again the next morning and began a very somber journey back to Iowa, while listening to public radio and noting the quiet, empty sky above us.

Near Grand Junction, Colo., we stopped to get a bite at a restaurant. The parking lot was full with vehicles of every kind, including Ryder, Budget and other rental trucks. People had rented whatever they could to get to their destination. Inside the restaurant, it was packed with people like us, and there was sort of an electricity in the air as people dined and discussed what was to be the beginning of a “new” world for most of us.

We had only one disappointing event, and that was at a hotel outside Denver that we felt was gouging travelers by charging $110 per nite …  for maybe a two-star hotel.

We arrived in Cedar Rapids late Friday evening, dropping our rental off at the airport and stunned to find out that Hertz was adhering to original rental agreements and did not charge for the mileage or the extra days! Eastern Iowa Airport also got a thumbs-up from us as they were charging only for our expected parking time.

As we settled in for the night, I came to the realization that we, the citizens of the United States of America, had a sense of patriotism and camaraderie like nothing I had ever known in my lifetime, maybe anyone's lifetime, and I knew we would survive and be stronger than ever.