Playing hooky on a sunny Sunday afternoon I've never before in my life read two books at once. But I did this weekend, especially on a brilliantly sunny Sunday afternoon, the shock waves of the September 11 terrorist attack still reverberating, even in America's heartland. John Byrne's book on GE's legendary Jack Welch, entitled "Jack: Straight from the gut," was my reading matter in one room, Bob Woodward's "Shadow: Five Presidents and the Legacy of Watergate" in another. For those who care to listen, I tell folks my reputation as a know-it-all is exaggerated. The reality is I'm an expert only in (1) political public relations, (2) annual reports to shareholders of publicly held companies and (3) coping with grief. I wrote a book on coping with grief, based on my personal experiences and extensive research. Typifying the male portion of our society, I remember how shocking was the revelation from Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, in her groundbreaking book, "On Death and Dying": "Not a question of if—only when we're going to die." As I recall, she wrote that most men consider themselves invincible, have never considered that some day we'll die. Women know they're all destined to die. For me, that revelation from the much-maligned Dr. Kubler-Ross was, well, startling. Point of all this is that we all seek our own ways of coping with grief. In my case, I'm guessing, the subconscious technique of this past weekend was to overwhelm myself, to blot out the horrible truth and memories by reading two books at a time. (Among a myriad of other activities, including attending church.) For others, it's donating blood, as I also did; I won't say, "Try it you'll like it," but it wasn't half bad, once you got past the authoritative volunteer at the desk. ("What time is your appointment? You have no appointment? You have to have an appointment. If not, you'll just have to wait.") (The wait took fewer than 15 minutes. No one was waiting when I finished.) Others make jewelry in the likeness of our flag. Some take up collections for the poor or homeless, especially those suffering souls in New York City and environs. Many of us drop a buck or two in a canister to aid the Red Cross in its efforts. And the lucky ones get a chance to talk about their fears with friends. That, or a professional counselor. Not to talk about how they're reacting to the terrorist attacks—well, that's, then, not to heal...certainly not so quickly, if at all. As I tell audiences: "The healing will wait until the grieving person is able to handle healing." One person whose opinions I admire is guessing that the unspoken-for-many grief will result in huge numbers of persons suffering illnesses in the months to come, especially over the year-end holidays. I think she's right. She experiences nightmares, if imprecise, vague. One friend said he felt bad because his kids were seeing his extreme anger at the terrorist attack. "They're handling it a lot better than I am," he confessed, introspectively. Bottom line: We're all grieving; with some, it's more apparent than others. But the grieving will wait until each of us is able to address it. Know that nobody's immune from the terrible trauma that has befallen our nation. Not little kids. Not their parents. Nobody. Will we "get over it"? Never, ever. The September 11 terrorist attacks are with us forever. But will most us be able to handle it? The good news is affirmative. But pretending trauma doesn't exist isn't the solution. I know that to be true. Sid Cato 10/3/2001

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