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I awoke to my clock radio, and when they broke into whatever was playing to say that something had happened in New York, I jumped up and turned on the TV. It was an eerie sight, one for which I could not not yet feel the horror, since it seemed so unreal, and not unlike what I had seen on various action movies, but this time there was no mood music, and this was on CNN, and the voices of the commentators were hushed.

Adding to the eerie feeling was that this was for me, the morning that I was to get the results of my prostate biopsy, and I had spent the past month looking at the precious vlaue of life, and most specifically, my family (2 children and a wife) and what I felt called to do with my life, and how much time was there left for any of that? And now this, thousands of people instantly faced with a sudden shocking, senseless end.

The doctor called. Good News. The words sounded strange in this context. Strange that I hoped for them while all the while realizing that many hopes and dreams had just been wiped out. But at the moment he said "Good News", I was relieved, exuberant, but echoing the doctor's sentiments when he said "It's good to have some good news on a day like today". I walked outside my front door, let out an almost sports-enthusiast-like "Yes!!!!", tooks ome deep breaths, and walked back inside where the TV continued to show the twin towers burning, and in just a few minutes, crumble to the ground , one after the other.

Good news. Bad News. What does this mean?




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