EXCLUSIVE! It is time to start writing again ... by Mark Hartley, editor, RDH

It�s the evening of September 20, and I�m going to do something I haven�t done in a while � write. At some point before 9 a.m. EST Tuesday, September 11, I wrote something. But I don�t remember what it was. All I know is that I haven�t written a thing since the terrorist attacks.

This is not some sort of record for me. No one is keeping a tally on the longest streak of when I failed to write a single word. The record, though, is probably longer than the nine days since the tragedies in Washington and New York. When my mother died, there was a week of bereavement leave. Since she suffered from an agonizing illness, I didn�t write during the days immediately before her death either. So if I had to guess at the record number of days in my life where I didn�t write a single word, that was probably it.

I have been pretty speechless, though, during the past nine days. As far as I know, my silence is OK. I have been just reading and listening for a change. Much of what has been written has been very moving on a spiritual level. And I am, of course, talking about more than just the journalists who reported on the events. I�m also talking about the Internet communities and personal expressions that have flooded our country. I�m glad Americans have expressed themselves. It has been very heartening to realize the extent of our love for each other. By love, I�m referring to the support, sympathy, and loyalty that we convey to each other.

I was just angry during the nine days. I didn�t experience fear or grief that much. I just seethed, although I think that emotion was tinged by sadness for obvious reasons. I put the flag up on the front porch. But I didn�t drive with my headlights on. I just forwarded one of the many inspirational e-mails that I received. I didn�t light a candle and step out in the front yard to grieve alongside neighbors. I didn�t wear any ribbons, jewelry, or special apparel. And, probably most shamefully, I didn�t write anything.

My patriotism was limited to bottled-up anger. If I was a dog, you would have just heard a steady, low, menacing growling for five days or so. Nothing too violent, but the rage was there. I did pray, but I don�t think praying when you�re angry is a particularly good idea. In fact, there�s a long list of things you shouldn�t do while angry, and writing is definitely one of them. I believe when you�re consumed with anger, you say things you end up regretting.

The bottom line is that I�m sure more than a few psychologists would find fault with my anger management techniques. If I had written for Hartley�s Corner or RDH during the last nine days, I probably would have growled too much in inappropriate ways.

There�s never been a situation where so many of us had to find a way to return to "normal" at the same time. I hope you have found better ways to deal with your emotions than I did.

Two events broke down my anger to a manageable level. I played golf on the sixth day after the tragedy. I played better than I normally do, and my golfing partner � who could fill up an encyclopedia with descriptions of my truly horrible shots � commented afterwards that my concentration on the game successfully took my mind off the anger. He�s right, I think � at least I didn�t keep watching the news on television. By the way, you really shouldn�t play golf while angry too, so I think something good happened on Monday, September 17.

But it�s silly to pretend golf cures all ills. The second thing that happened was an argument with my wife over charity, of all things. We were discussing a donation to the Red Cross when suddenly I started venting by uttering the most illogical statements. By way of explanation, I should point out two things. First of all, the Red Cross snubbed my father when he was a young man before I was born. So it turned into one of those sons listening to fathers about who had wronged the family. I�ve never donated money to the Red Cross, just blood. Secondly, I was confused while trying to outwardly show patience. The chaos after the attacks indicated that help from all Americans would be needed. But, as they sorted through the debris in the desperate effort to find survivors, an immediate outburst of charity, I thought, was not demonstrating patience. I felt that we needed to wait to see what charitable funds were needed before we started throwing money out the window in an emotional spasm.

Needless to say, I finally lost my patience and bickered with my wife about it. She left the room, and I turned to face the television. The television anchor was concluding one report and was launching into the next one. The story that appeared on the screen was a detailed description of what exactly the Red Cross needed donations for. It was one of those eerie moments when I realize that God pays more attention to me than I think He is.

I went into the other room, apologized to my wife, and we quickly agreed on what our donation would entail.

So I�m OK now; the anger is still there, but I can manage it. I think I can start writing again. I just wanted to start off by saying two things:

1. Please excuse my silence.

2. And thank you for taking my place in so eloquently describing what Americans are all about.