Life's journey takes a musical turn

Have you ever been stalked by a song?

I know it sounds strange, but bear with me and you'll see what I'm talking about. Really!

It started last fall when I went to see one of my favorite 80s bands perform at Hersheypark Stadium. A reunited Journey, with Arnel Pineda on lead vocals, played an awesome concert.

Despite the absence of the band's original lead singer, Steve Perry, they sounded amazingly like the original band. And they played all my favorites - Lights (gotta love those San Fransisco nights), Wheel in the Sky (love the words), Send Her My Love, Separate Ways, Faithfully, Who's Cryin' Now, Open Arms (classic 80s) and Don't Stop Believing.

The music took me back to my college days and a brief stint as a disc jockey on WRLC 91.7. For three years, I spun records every Thursday night from 9 p.m. to 1 a.m. In those days, new releases by bands such as Journey, Styx, Survivor, Foreigner, Duran Duran, Dream Academy and other 80s bands made up the play lists. It was an awesome time to be a disc jockey.

Fast forward to New Year's Eve 2008. As the final moments of the old year ticked away, I felt especially reminiscent knowing that my days as a weekly community newspaper editor were numbered. Our staff had been informed just days before Christmas that our office was slated for closure as our struggling parent company attempted to retrench.

As I stood in the middle of thousands of people, feeling quite alone and uncertain about the future, the band launched into the Journey song, Don't Stop Believing. A chill ran up my spine as the final song of 2008 echoed through the center of ChocolateTown and brought a fleeting feeling of hope to my restless soul.

In the days and months that followed, the song would follow me as I searched for work and to find my new identity. Prior to or immediately following several interviews, the distinctive piano intro to the song would speak to me again and again, most of the time over the car radio, but occasionally in restaurants and department stores.

I'm still unsure what the song is telling me, though I normally hear it prior to or after job interviews. Usually it means I'm not getting the job. So I'm taking it as a sign that the position was not the right fit and that I should continue to believe there's something better out there for me.

The most unusual occurrence happened in early August. I was back at Hersheypark Stadium, this time to hear the punk band, Blink 182 play. Just prior to Blink taking the stage, the Fall Out Boys played a jammin' warm up set. At one point, the lead singer shouted to the audience, "Want to hear something new or retro?" The overwhelming response came back: RETRO. With that, you guessed it, that familiar piano intro of "Don't Stop Believing" filled the stadium as another chill ran down my spine.

To put this in perspective for anyone unfamiliar with punk concerts, hearing a cut from Journey would be like hearing a Beatles tune during a Bach concert. That's how unusual this was. But the crowd went wild, loving every minute of it. I just stood there in disbelief.

It happened to me yet again this week when I attended a pig roast at a former co-worker's house. Finding myself alone in a sea of strangers, I commandeered an open seat and just hung for an hour, enjoying the food and the music coming from a satellite radio channel. By now you have probably guessed - the familiar piano intro began to play, echoing through the side yard of tents and tables. It was Journey's Don't Stop Believing. I sat there and smiled to myself, singing the words under my breath.

I still don't know what to make of it - whether it's a message or just coincidence. I hope it's a message, that something is out there for me, somewhere. So we'll see where this Journey goes. I hope it's to a better place where I can again believe.

Always remember ... never forget the innocent lives lost on September 11, 2001

There’s a place I like to go around Sept. 11. It reminds me of what that day should be about – the strength of the human spirit to survive and turn the horrid ugliness of hate into a shining beacon of hope.
The place is the Garden of Reflection, Pennsylvania’s official Sept. 11, 2001 memorial located in a quiet field in suburban Philadelphia, just an hour and a half’s drive from Ground Zero.
The memorial was built on the tears of grief, shed by Pennsylvania families who lost the people they held most dear, and stands testament to a story of how a group of people, suffering from great loss, channeled their grief into a lasting, emotionally-moving tribute.
Twisted beams from the World Trade Center mark the entrance to the garden and the beginning of a journey that takes visitors on a spiral walk from the darkness of 9-11 into the arms of eternity. Along Remembrance Walk, you pass thousands of names, each with its own story, etched into a series of glass panels. The journey ends at the heart of the memorial, where twin 20-foot fountains gush toward the heavens, symbolizing rebirth and new life.
I was there in Sept. 2006 for the emotionally-stirring dedication ceremony as the twin fountains were turned on for the first time and family members walked through the entrance of the garden for the first time, hand-in-hand, arm-in-arm.
It was a scene I won’t soon forget as gentle tears of rain fell from the sky and the strains of “You’ll Never Walk Alone” filled the autumn air.
And there was Ellen Saracini, a pillar of strength, standing amid the crowd, sharing hugs and tears with family and friends. And not far away was Grace, Tara, Clara and the Kellys, all of whom suffered tremendous loss.
“September 11, 2001 was our darkest day. Today - September 30th, 2006 -- will forever be remembered as one of our brightest,” said Saracini, her words echoing through the fields.
Ellen’s husband, Captain Victor Saracini, was in the cockpit with first officer Michael Horrocks when United Flight 175 was hijacked and flown into the World Trade Center. Horrocks is a graduate of Hershey High School where he was a stand-out athlete and member of the football team.
I met Ellen a few months after the attacks of 9-11 when she, and other 9-11 family members, joined a grassroots effort to design and build a memorial in Lower Makefield not only to remember, but also to reflect.
Ellen was joined on the committee by Grace Godshalk, a member of the Lower Makefield Board of Supervisors, whose son, Michael, was killed at Ground Zero, and Tara Bane, also a resident of Lower Makefield, who lost her husband, Michael, in the attack.
For the next five years, I documented their efforts in the pages of the local newspaper, from design, through fund-raising and eventually to reality. They raised more than $2 million for the project, from schools, businesses and community groups, capped off with a hefty grant from the U.S. government.
I remember early on in the process getting a call from Grace Godshalk. She was inviting me to join the families as they visited potential sites for the memorial. I grabbed my camera and joined her as she drove me to an open field on Woodside Road, where we met Tara, Ellen and Fiona Havlish, whose husband was killed at the World Trade Center.
As we walked through the open fields, I recall Ellen remarking about the serenity of the place as a stiff, cold wind blew across the brown landscape of late winter.
As the group walked the site, wondering whether this was the place or not, they stumbled upon a tattered American flag, twisted in a row of weeds lining a small stream that flowed through the site. It was a sure sign to them that they had found the right place.
Over the ensuing years, as they channeled their grief into a lasting memorial, I developed a deep friendship with them as they allowed me into their lives and to share their story with the community. They paid me the deepest honor when they asked me to serve on the dedication committee.
“This garden is all about life,” Ellen once told me. “We wanted it to be personal. We wanted it to be a peaceful and contemplative place where everyone, not just family members, can find solitude and a sense of reflection.”
The days that immediately followed 9-11 were among the hardest of my career. Calling grieving family members and asking them for an interview was not something I relished. But somehow I garnered enough energy to dial the phone.
What I found surprising is that the strength that exuded from the family members. It was something I didn’t expect and would come to admire, especially in Grace, Ellen and Tara.
In all, 18 people from Bucks County, including nine from Lower Makefield, were killed that day at the World Trade Center and on Flight 95.
I can’t imagine the utter pain and the emptiness they felt as they watched the towers collapse or heard the last voices on Flight 95. There’s nothing to say to them that will ever make it go away or make it any better. And, for them, there will always be an emptiness.
The families chose the theme, “After Darkness, Light,” as the theme of the dedication. In three simple words, they encapsulated their own story as well as a nation’s.
Let’s always remember and never forget the people who died that day. Say a prayer, make a donation, remember the families on Sept. 11th. And if you have the opportunity, take a ride to Bucks County and visit the 9-11 memorial or visit it on line at http://www.9-11memorialgarden.org/.

NOTE: Thank you to my friend and photographer Jeff Goldberg for the above photographs depicting the twin fountains, Ellen Saracini and the beams from the World Trade Center.