I found myself this morning in that state of semi-consciousness when every sound in your bedroom makes its way into your dreams. The click on the wall from our new electronic thermostat clicks, waking me and the heat pump into action. Well, the heat pump is more alive than I at this hour, actually. Then I hear a strange whining noise coming from the thermostat, which is not a welcome sound at 5:15 on a cold autumn morning.

The thermostat is one of these new-fangled contraptions with all the new features. We don't even have to set it on “heat” or “cool” if we don't want to. Just set it to “auto” and depending on which way the thermometer is headed, the heat or air conditioning will click on to keep the interior degrees at 72 or whatever the setting. One of my favorite features is the button to let me know the temperature outside.

The whining gets louder and evolves to a high pitch outcry, like a baby, which awakes me even more as I remember we actually have a baby in the other room. Could it be…? Yes, the little one is calling out for her morning fix. I feel a little relieved, since that means my new air unit, which I installed in the attic, isn't falling apart. It's just a hungry baby. My male reasoning figures a bad thermostat can cost a couple hundred dollars to fix with the service call and replaced part. Baby feedings only cost lost sleep – primarily my wife's, but, selfishly I think, that's her problem. I gently nudge my betrothed to prepare her for the impending onslaught of the “milk drunk” as we affectionately call this child, and stumble into the nursery to retrieve the lactation wino. On the way out the bedroom door, I check the outdoor temp – it's about 38F. Brrrr.

You would think the feeding would end our sleep interruption, but about the time she finishes her early morning appetizer, the dogs begin their request for a potty break. It's now 5:30 a.m.

It's a bit worse these days as we have two cockapoos holed up in kennels in the basement during what is called the “breeding season.” The female is in season – but she's not the real problem. It's the male who has this innate drive to mark his spot around the community and let all other males know that his female counterpart is not open for courting. When I was a kid, we lived in the country and now I recall, we always had a female dog. I never really understood what the owners of male dogs went through during the breeding season. Since we were in the country, they handled it the best they could – they let their four-legged gigolos out the backdoor, where they hit the beaten path to our doorstep.

Meanwhile, 30 years later in suburbia, I get up to let walk them, but my loving wife is as awake as I by now, with a sleeping infant between us, and offers to walk them herself, since my impending schedule is full for the day. I thank her, hug her and promise a diamond earring set for Christmas. Right now Toby is at my side, looking through the French doors at Sandy, whining and pawing the door for access – and I don't mean just the other room.

It's another day in middle-America. We're at home, where we feel secure; but that's becoming a distant memory each day as we hear about more attacks against freedom-loving citizens around the world. Sept. 11 changed everything as far as the American Way of life. Americans, however, don't hold a monopoly on feeling threatened at home. The Australians gulped down a horrible taste of terrorism with the attack on Bali just a few days ago. Bali is to Australia as the Bahamas are to East Coast America. Even the working man can afford a trip to Bali – and so far, of the nearly 200 dead, 33 are from the island country – but 144 Australians are still missing.

Article after article describes the families of survivors and victims trying to bring their relatives – dead or alive – home. Home is where the heart is and in the midst of all the uncertainty around us, home is where we still feel safe.

In the Washington, D.C. area, a new threat of terror lingers at every corner with a sniper on the loose. It brings to the collective forefront of our minds how quickly life can change. In just a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, our lives can change. One person in the metropolitan area of 3 million is causing mayhem, distrust and fear, having murdered nine people in 11 attempts (at least at this writing). Open air events are canceled, children locked down at school and mundane tasks now cause anxiety. Fortunately, one thing remains the same – the security of home.

People run home during disaster to whatever home is – an apartment or a mansion. It doesn't matter on the value of your house, the amenities it offers, the features left behind by the builder. The sticks, bricks and mortar really don't count for much in times of danger and uncertainty. We want to be with family, friends and familiarity.

Unfortunately, there are those in our midst and around the world who would use God – or their 'god' – to spread death, destruction and a twisted value system. One of the worst things that could happen here is if they were able to take their message of death and drive a wedge between us and our neighbors. Reach out at this time. If you're going to be home, be home with some neighbors. Have a dinner party, microwave some popcorn and watch a movie together or invite several households over for some dessert and fellowship.

In the midst of these trying times, don't turn inward in fear, instead, turn your heart toward home.

Published: October 25, 2002

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