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Carolina Mourns

Quietly, reverently with 10,000 others, I departed Polk Place. Such a peaceful, silent adjournment of so many from this otherwise vibrant, active space was surreal, but then that which prompted this gathering of the University community was even more surreal.

I am referencing the poignant responses to the tragic events of Sept. 11. Standing with others, holding hands, listening to the comforting words of our chancellor, our student body president, a campus minister, a professor and others, my mind raced. The tragedies that brought us together and the size of the gathering prompted me to recall a spring 1970 Polk Place vigil in the aftermath of the deaths of four students at Kent State subsequent to the U.S. incursion into Cambodia as the war in Vietnam raged.

Outside Old East, I happened upon our older son, and we chatted about his reactions and thoughts. He had been in touch with a friend and UNC alumnus who works for a U.S. senator; one of his roommates shared reactions from friends in Israel.

In the Alumni Center, the day of the attack we connected with the two alumni tours traveling in Europe, prepared to open our online alumni directory to all alumni, students and others connected to Carolina who visited our Web site (not just Carolina Alumni members) and began to put together a panel of UNC faculty for a Thursday evening GAA program titled “Understanding the Attack on America: A Public Forum.” And we waited.

We waited for that which we knew would follow but which we wished our Carolina family could be spared. We waited to learn the names of former Carolina students who perished on Sept. 11. All too soon we learned that two of our graduates died aboard two separate flights, and in the following days we learned that four more Carolina alumni were victims in the World Trade Center.

As we learned their identities, we marveled at the courage of firefighters, police officers, rescue workers and others in New York and at the Pentagon and of the bravery of passengers aboard United Flight 93 who denied terrorists a fourth target.

That which haunted me in the early hours and days after the attack remains unshakable. Time and again I have flashed back to June 1, 1965. On that bright, Friday afternoon, a cab driver delivered a telegram to my mother at our Fayetteville home. That telegram conveyed the tragic news that my dad had been shot and killed in an ambush near Pleiku, South Vietnam. Later that afternoon, at age 17, I shared this news with the youngest two of my four younger brothers. That single bullet forever changed the lives of my mother and each of her five young sons.

On Sept. 11, all of our lives changed. And while we understandably will continue to search for answers and seek to determine the implications for our country and the world, for now we continue to ache for the sons and daughters, husbands and wives, parents and grandparents who lost family members. Without warning, without a telegram, with the entire world watching, these families received horrific news, which immediately changed their lives forever.

It was not until I accompanied our own sons as they visited other campuses before choosing to come to Carolina that I remembered that my dad was unable to take me on any campus tours. That made these trips very special for me. My dad never met my wife nor his grandchildren. Dad was not around to share in my accomplishments or to console me in my disappointments. And now an estimated 10,000 children are without a parent as a result of the attacks of Sept. 11 .

For nearly 20 years I have written this column, and no column has been more difficult to write. I convey these personal reactions because I think each of us is dealing with the events of Sept. 11 on a personal basis.

We should be proud that our Carolina community again came together and continues to provide an environment for the expression of all views and opinions during this national tragedy. This is the Carolina way.

As we mourn the loss of Karleton Douglas Beye Fyfe ’92, Mary Lou Hague ’96, Andrew Marshall King ’83, Ryan Ashley Kohart ’98, Dora Menchaca ’78 (MSPH) and Christopher Quackenbush ’79, I share the lines sung by me Loreleis, Carolina’s women’s a cappella group, that concluded the gathering on Polk Place as well as our GAA forum:

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me, to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes . …

You said you’d comfort me in times like these, and now I need you

Now I need you, and you are gone …

Yours at Carolina,

Doug signature

 

 

 

Douglas S. Dibbert ’70

doug_dibbert@unc.edu

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