I was in my office building in Times Square this morning (thankfully a few miles from the World Trade Center) when I heard from my friend, Tom Nichols, that an airplane had crashed into the WTC. I also feared that David Harris, who frequents a coffee shop downtown in the mornings for breakfast, was near the scene of the disaster. I took a subway as far downtown as possible (fortunately, still 5-6 blocks from the site of the catastrophe, but in hindsight much too close for comfort). I eventually learned that, thankfully, David was not in Manhattan this morning, but rather in Connecticut for the day, where he remains at this time.

In any event, the scene downtown seemed more fitting for a horror movie than for real life. The towers, which were still standing at the time, were engulfed in flame and dark black smoke, and people were running in a near panic in every direction. Shortly thereafter, the police suspended all forms of transportation (busses, subways, and all routes into and out of the city), which meant the only way back to my office was by foot (and as quickly as possible). Fortunately, I had been walking (and sprinting at times) for 10-15 minutes up 6th Avenue when the towers collapsed. I turned around at one point to see the surreal image of one, instead of two, towers standing, and turned back around several minutes to see the second tower crumbling to the ground in a mass of gray dust and smoke.

By now, each of us has undoubtedly seen this event replayed on the news channels throughout the day. All I can say is that seeing this tragedy unfold in person was, to say the least, a sight that will be forever etched in my memory as long as I live.

My heart and deepest sympathies go out to those whose lives were touched, and indeed forever changed, by the tragic events that unfolded today.

When I got the phone call last Wednesday to perform a concert for RTOS in place of my colleague and friend, Lew Williams, the only thing I could think about was how an artist could have the state of mind necessary to give any sort of quality performance under these circumstances. The horrific events of the past week have exacted a huge emotional toll on so many of us, which has been amplified by my personal proximity to the events in NYC.

Nevertheless, at the conclusion of my program in Rochester (and I am certain it was the same at the other venues), many of the attendees made it a point to mention how much they really needed the outlet of going to a concert and listening to familiar (and at times highly patriotic) music, and that the concert was a welcome change of pace from the constant influx of unsettling images from news media.

I would be remiss, however, if I didn't go on the record to state that getting away from NYC for the weekend and giving the concert was exactly what I needed under these circumstances as well. The positive, enthusiastic, and supportive response of the attendees not only made the program the most memorable of my life, but also gave me reason to think that I was in some way contributing to the healing process that we must all go through.

On a more personal level, giving the concert helped me as an artist, a New Yorker, and an American to start to come to grips with everything that has happened.

For that, I thank you.