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Aftermath
The people of America have just experienced a disaster the likes of which we
as a people, in our history have not seen or lived through, a horror we had
convinced ourselves could never happen. I am, of course, talking about the
hijacking of 4 commercial airplanes by a group of reported religious zealots,
and the subsequent use of three of those planes to attack two major focal points
of every day life in the USA.
To begin, my heart goes out to all those innocent victims who are or will be
counted among the dead, and my sincerest, tear-strewn condolences for those
surviving friends or relatives who have to carry on with their lives after their
loss, and my deepest sympathies, too deep to accurately express with a keyboard
and a column, to those alive who have not heard word, one way or another, about
a friend, a son, a daughter, a brother, a sister, a father, a mother, or simply
an acquaintance that they know was in the area. These people will receive a
nation's worth of support from what I've seen. Even further, love, caring and
donations of every sort have been brought in on an international basis. We are
New Yorkers, and Americans. We are borne of the strengths of people from whose
roots span the globe, and in this moment when an enemy has chosen to hit us
harder than any has had in the past, we take our strength from our diversity,
pour it into our love and caring for brethren in need, and we held them up high,
proving almost effortlessly that we are an indomitable people, for we stand
united. Perhaps there is a lesson in this, an incentive to work for a greater
peace around the world.
But I digress, these are thoughts that every journalist will reiterate
endless times until we have healed the physical wounds left from the attacks,
and I do not wish to take up much space with thoughts that have been better
expressed by the professionals.
I wish to use my column this week to speak of another tragedy brought about
by the greater one, I wish to speak on a matter that I am experiencing myself
that I am sure others are as well, a matter not yet sufficiently addressed by
the media.
I'm speaking of a unique form of survivor's guilt that I am having a
difficult time coping with, and I'm sure I'm not the only one.
*sigh*
I stepped out of the subway on my way to work just moments after the second
plane had collided into the South Tower. At first, I thought the crowd that had
gathered around the open area of the North end of Union Square Park (which
extends from 14th to 17th streets, between Broadway and Park Avenue, to give a
proper frame of reference) was watching the filming of a commercial, TV. show,
movie or what have you, which is a common occurrence in this part of the city.
When I looked the first time, I could not see anything of importance or interest
enough to draw such a large crowd.
Curiosity drove me to look a second time as I walked north toward the 21st
and Broadway office that I worked in this. This time, I lifted my head to bring
my eyesight up above the normal horizon line the bill of my cap forces upon me.
The south tower on the left had a visible fire encompassing a floor or two on
the left most side of the north face, from my vantage point. The upper 5th or so
of the north tower, on the right, was completely obstructed by hideous black,
billowing smoke.
'Holy shit!' was the first thing out of my mouth, mainly because I was
thoroughly taken by surprise. But even then, I had no idea of what had caused
the fires, and so I was not at all worried. I'm sure a number of people can
identify with the thought that ran through my mind next; 'oh, it's just a fire.
They've survived a massive bombing at their base, they'll be ok.'
So I made my way to my favorite deli to pick up my usual ham'n'egg-on-a-roll
sandwich for breakfast, and learn during a casual conversation with the chef at
the grill that a plane had crashed into the buildings. Now, I've heard some
pretty wild stories and that one about topped it. 'No kidding!' It gave me a
chuckle, mainly because the likelihood of such a thing happening was enormously
small. I simply didn't believe it. So I left, spending a few more moments
marveling at the smoke and fire, wondering when the fires were going to be put
out.
My alphanumeric pager begins to lose it's mind at this point, as I received
six pages in the span of 45 seconds. I barely had time to read one when the next
one was coming in. My significant other, suffering with me through a
long-distance relationship, had seen the news and was dreadfully worried for my
well being, while a few friends of mine, who knew I probably hadn't heard the
news yet, sent me messages. By the end of those five minutes, I had received
some confirmation of what the guy in the deli had said, and I began to feel a
little worried. My friends weren't the sort to toss such fanciful rumors around
like that.
Finally, I made it to the office.
It was like walking into a busy ant-farm or something. People were scurrying
every-where with frazzled, worried, or shocked looks on their faces. This is
when I get confirmation of just what the hell had happened.
I was stunned. One plane might have been an accident, and I believe we were
all prepared to swallow that without question. But two planes? No way.
Absolutely not, only the most unimaginable of circumstances might have lead to
two commercial jets colliding with buildings that would have been so far out of
their normal flight path.
Someone orchestrated an attack on New York City on such a grand level?
GodDAMN, that's unbelievable. I wondered if I was dreaming, still asleep in my
bed, or worse, on the train, having nodded off between stops on my ride in.
Then news of the plane crash into the Pentagon gets to me, and I find myself
not only realizing that I was very much indeed awake, but that every ounce of
security that I had so righteously wrapped myself in had crumbled like a hard
cookie crushed under the weight of an enormous anvil. My city, my country, was
under attack, and there wasn't any real safe place to be. What was worse, we
didn't know who the attackers are, so there wasn't even the thought of
retaliation, until we could put a name to the actions.
Rumors and false reports began to trickle in, making things worse and
heightening paranoia. First, the Washington Monument was hit. Then the
Smithsonian. Then we learn that a plane went down in western Pennsylvania, and
the government testing labs out there are suddenly in danger. More confusion,
more worry, more fear.
At about a quarter to 11am, the south tower collapses. Good lord in heaven,
the south tower collapsed. I felt my heart sink at the sight that I saw on the
television. The sound of the reporter's shaken, disbelieving voice, the quiet
gasps and silent worrying of my co-workers as we all piled into our employer's
room for vantage of the only good TV in the office…
But it was ok. There was still one more tower. We would survive this, scarred
a bit, but intact and whole. We were hit, but not beaten. It would be ok in the
end.
And the second one fell, my heart right along with it.
I have an emotional bond with the city, the sort of thing I don't really know
if anyone else might understand. Anthony Keides and the Red Hot Chili Peppers
put to words a very, very accurate description of my feelings for New York City;
"Sometimes I feel like my only friend is the city I live in…"
I have walked through nearly every neighborhood, experienced many of the
sites and sounds that Manhattan and parts every borough had to offer during my
short span of life on this Earth. I have smelled the smells, tasted the foods,
and felt the atmosphere that each area had to offer, a mixed, hodge-podge
collection of buildings and people of every size, shape, color, and demeanor. I
had become infinitely familiar with much of these things, the way two people
become familiar with each other as they become the best of friends.
Watching the south, then the north tower of the Twin Towers of the World
Trade Center collapse so horrifically was like watching my best friend get his
arm ripped off while I was totally helpless to stop it.
That was just my initial reaction. The loss of human life hadn't quite hit me
just yet, that wouldn't be for another few hours.
The city has started to scramble by this point. Among the feared dead were
the rescuers who had arrived on the scene when the fires had been started, and
again when the first building had collapsed, but still the folks in Blue, and
the gentlemen in the fire-retardant gear, and the EMT's and the volunteer
helpers continued to arrive and do what they could for those that needed it. The
city, and nation, responded. Airports shut down. All bridges leading to and from
Manhattan were closed. No subway service. Free busses, if you could squeeze on
to one. Suddenly, it became clear, we had to get the hell out of there and get
to our children, before anything else happened. So, with no real means of rapid
transportation, I gathered together with a number of friends and we marched 3
hours to the Bronx, where I could get to my son and my Mother, make some quick
calls and emails to let all of my dear, wonderful friends across the country
know that I was alive and well.
Had I not been a parent, I might have felt it imperative to stay and help in
any way I could. However my child's safety was paramount in my mind and I felt
it necessary to move us to a safer place, one that was less likely to be
targeted for another attack. So, I took off for a day, watching the news from a
hotel room in Binghamton, waiting for the next wave of attack.
It never came. More buildings fell in NYC, the struck portion of the Pentagon
collapsed, but the worst of it was over. Now all that was to be done was find
out who did this, pull out the survivors, mourn those that didn't, and rebuild.
Fuck me if that wasn't the worst part.
But we plow ahead, and get it done. The Pentagon opened on Friday. It fucking
opened!@#$. If that's not a testament to the spirit of Americans, then I don't
know what is. Attack our buildings, we'll work IN them to find your ass.
The rescue attempts continue, even as more and more information begins to
pour in. We learn of the bravery of the passengers on the doomed flight that had
crashed outside Pittsburgh, and how they might have saved another site in
Washington DC from the fate that the Pentagon and the WTC had suffered. We learn
of the bravery of them countless workers at both sights, working with bloody
hands and breathing in potentially lethal dust to save just one more life…
And there are those of us who have a burning urge to help… and who cannot.
There are more volunteers at the WTC sight than they know how to use, and so
they have been steadily turning AWAY people. So we're left to donations. Some
who can, donate blood. Most of us donate money to one cause or another. Some of
with the time and presence of mind and heart have gone shopping to get the
supplies so badly needed by the rescuers, such as toiletries, and changes of
clothing, etc.
I find myself in a strange position, however, one that I'm sure someone else
finds themselves in as well, but so far I've not heard mention of it.
I had no close family or friends in the building. Those that I knew who
worked in the area of the WTC got out pretty much unscathed, physically. I am
not waiting to hear with baited breath about someone that I knew in one or both
of the towers. I have plenty of friends who are in such a position, but I don't
have to live with that same kind of angst. I've given where and when I could,
I've gone out of my way to look at every poster of a missing person that I could
spot, hoping to maybe get to know someone, in some small way, that was in the
building. Because I feel this odd sense of guilt that all this sorry and pain
and angst is going on around me and I really don't have a foot in it.
Don't get me wrong, I feel horrible for what has happened. As I said, I have
friends who are going nuts waiting to hear word of someone they knew and loved
in the area. I nearly break down into tears when I see visuals of the area, and
think of what has happened. But somehow, I have been spared the worst of all of
this. I might as well have been living up in Canada for all that this has
affected me, when people around me are trying to keep themselves together.
I really don't know what to do about this. I've been lending support where
it's been accepted, but it's no compensation. I feel bad that I don't feel as
bad as everyone else around me. Even my friends outside of the state who were
worried that I was hurt or injured seem to be more shaken about this than I am,
and I had front row tickets to the whole thing. Well, ok, maybe closer to
nosebleed seating… but I was here, and there are those that weren't that are
losing sleep.
I don't feel numb, and I don't think I'm in any real sort of denial. As I
said, watching the news is very emotional for me. Walking along 5th Avenue and
not seeing those two familiar shapes is heartbreaking. There is an ache in my
heart from all of this, but it's such a small feeling compared to the level of
sorrow that I've seen in the eyes of those truly stricken to the core by what
has happened. I do what I can, but it doesn't seem to be enough.
So what am I supposed to do?
And while I have assumed that there are others who feel as I do, I don't
really know for sure. What are they doing? How are they coping? I'd like to
know, perhaps there can be something to be gained by the shared experience.
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Shock.
Remember the Alamo?
Remember the Maine?
Remember Pearl Harbor?
We thought that expression was for times ago. Sixty years ago come December
7th, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in what they thought was a strategic
Military Strike. It was horrible, it was Shocking to our nation how dare they
bomb US. Even Yamamoto the man who planned Pearl Harbor said afterwards "We have
woken a sleeping giant…"
Then…last week, out of a dead sleep I was awoken by my roommate at 10 to 9 in
the morning. "MINDY WAKE UP YOU ARE GOING TO WANT TO SEE THIS". Quickly jumping
out of bed, running to her room, looking at the television… we all know what
happened next. Her mother being a reporter for one of the papers out here in
Ohio found out as fast as the other newscasters did when it came over the AP
wire and called my roommate.
About 15 minutes after waking up on a Tuesday morning, I watched as we went
to war.
Horrific.
Watching as the early morning unfolded, not only the realization of war hits,
the knowledge of the innocents, instantly killed. Then it happened, again, this
time outside DC. On a military target…then in PA…
My friends are dead, my cousin worked in that military target, my city is
burning.
Anger.
WHO THE FUCK IS WATCHING THE GATE????
Hell I just flew to NY from
Cleveland To Dulles To New York, I didn't feel like spending a grand to go
direct and didn't book early enough, and every bag, my coat, and my pockets
everything got turned out. And then, a week later I flew back the same way. So,
me miss "Would never bring a weapon on a plane even in stowage," has her pockets
turned out. But SOMEHOW these ASSHOLES get knifes and box cutters on the plane.
What the Fuck?! Was Ray Charles watching the x-ray machine that day?!
Shock take two.
Then, watching a live shot, NJ Burkett, the towers…the police and
firefighters who we all know ran up as the towers emptied. The people who put
their lives on the line for ours…poof…then the other one went…
Anger take two.
WHO THE HELL DO THESE ANIMALS THINK THEY ARE?!
Insert many non-politically
correct terms here for a person of Arab or Muslim race and creed. Now
understand, I don't hate ALL Arabs, and I don't hate ALL Muslims. Most are
decent hard working, honest individuals, who truly believe in Islam. These
Fuckers who did this? They aren't Muslims, they are blasphemers they take their
God's name in vein, and say "We are having a holy Jihad to wash the planet clean
of your evil ways." Evil bah, they are the epitome of evil. They have no
conscience, they take innocent lives, and say No American is Innocent, they
think they can be jury judge and executioner. They have another thing coming.
Disgust.
Reports of violence against our fellow Americans came to light. Places of
worship vandalized, fellow Americans beaten in the street.
Anger Take Three.
TURN THEM TO GLASS THE WHOLE DAMN PLACE.
When the reports came, that the
primary suspect is Osama Bin Laden I was mad at our country for treating the men
the first time the towers were hit as criminals and not as a group attacking our
country. This time we can't just put the person "in charge" on trial. We have to
smoke every single last one of these radical terrorists, and exterminate them
like the vermin they are. We have to destroy them to such a point that they
realize their God has abandoned them and the only quarter given will be with
through The World as a Whole destroying those that behave in a terroristic
manner.
Hope
Driving down the street, I see flags flying on almost every house. Businesses
have hung giant flags outside their buildings. Flags on poles are flying at
half-mast. People hear me talk and immediately offer condolences on the attack
on my hometown asking if I lost anybody in the blast. I just say, "We all lost
somebody in the bombing whether we knew anybody on a familiar level or not."
Fear
Is an emotion we must not show. We must show we are fearless and move on with
our lives without fear. We should be careful and diligent in order for this not
to happen again, security must be tightened, but fear, no never we are America
do not tread on us.
Resolve
Is something we as Americans have always had. During peace we fight like a
family, bickering and screaming at each other, now…we stand as one, and look at
this enemy to our life and say, "You have just awoken your worst nightmare. We
will find you. And then we will destroy you and all the evils you stand for."
Longing
The want to see the towers stand again where they once stood. To see the
skyline as it stood for 30 years. To make a statement to the people that did
this….
We Are Not Afraid.
To Quote Mr. George M. Cohen…
Over there, over there,
Send the word send the word over there,
That
the Yanks are coming the Yanks are coming
The drums rum-tummin every where
So prepare say a prayer
Send the word send the word to beware
We'll
be over we're coming over
And we won't come back till it's over over
there.
God Bless America
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American
America is well on the road to recovery from that heinous attack by supposed
Islamic extremist. Not even 4 days after the 3rd reported plane had crashed into
it and took out a huge section, the Pentagon was back up and running, business
as close to usual as physically allowable. Less than a week after the
destruction of the World Trade Center towers, the New York Stock Exchange
reopened, not even a stones throw away from the destruction.
We can be hit. This is proven. We can be hithard, where it hurts, although we
never could have imagined just how hard until that Tuesday. We might, for the
shortest instant, bend at the knee. But we will never go down. We will always
stand firm against our enemies, even if we need support from a friend from time
to time.
We are AMERICANS. By our very nature, we are strong and indomitable.
That's not just a statement based solely on nationalistic pride; there is a
core of fact and logic behind it. Take a close look at your family history, your
S/O's family history, that of your neighbors and coworkers, and a pattern will
emerge.
The vast majority of 'Americans', myself included, can trace their roots to
some other country; in fact, many of us often refer to that nation of origin as
part of their identity. Tony says he's Italian, although he was born in
Brooklyn. Chris says she's Irish when she's never been outside of Boston.
My own family tree is well branched and covers a good portion of the globe.
My family has never seen the bounds of skin tone, but has judged only what lies
within a person's heart. This was the example that I grew up with. My lessons in
hate weren't the 'normal' sort. "Don't play with Jimmy, he ain't one of us" is
the typical thing one might have heard while being raised by closed-minded
folks. No, my lessons come from stories of abuse and oppression that my family
suffered for being 'them'. By the time I had heard those tales, I had already
learned that that sort of behavior was wrong and intolerable. It would be quite
some time before I learned that my way of looking at people wasn't shared by
nearly as many people as I had imagined.
So we take myself and my slightly skewed view of things and we place me in
New York City, the most liberal place in the world, where odd musings of unusual
things are supported and encouraged. We sit me beside m Jewish brother and my
Chinese sister and my afro-American best friend and my Latino lunchroom buddies
and an odd thing happens.
We, as a group, through our diversity, managed to enrich each other by
sharing our beliefs and ourselves with each other. With that enrichment comes a
better understanding of the world around us. With that understanding comes a
strength unattainable by any other means. Strength as a group, strength as a
people, strength as a nation, through diversity. To steal the Vulcan edict from
Star Trek, 'Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations'. This, in turn, leads
to infinite strength. We are Americans. We are indomitable. We stand on roots
firmly planted throughout the world, and lean on each other in times of rough
weather, but tall and proud will we always stand.
And that's only half of it.
Let's take a look at the whole of American history, and pay close attention
to the people that make up that history.
We have native tribes people, who found their strength by learning from and
becoming one with the land around them, in multiple ways.
Enter into the world a group of Europeans who dared to think differently from
their neighbors when such a thing was intolerable, and had such strength of
character and conviction in what they believed in as to accept exile, either
imposed or otherwise, rather than face continuing persecution and possible
death. The heartiest of these stout people would survive to break new ground in
human history and set a new precedent in principles; stand by and hold fast to
what you hold to be truth.
This paved the way for others who wished to find their own, unique paths when
they could not find suitable ones before them in their own land. To uproot
oneself and leave to make a new home in a new place takes great strength of
character, sometimes quiet, sometimes boisterous.
This portion of our history is marred with the blood spilled by conquerors
who would rape the new land of hope, taking what they pleased with no regard
paid to those who came before.
But even then, under the power that they exerted which again changed our
nation, those of the toughest mettles, both of the native tribes and the
descendants of the settlers who had washed ashore, survived and continued to
contribute to the strength of American as a nation.
This is the stock from which we come. Bravest of the brave. Boldest of the
bold. This, even more than our diversity, is the core of our strength. Our
diversity as a country adds to that strength and reinforces it in ways no other
peoples have seen before.
This is why we shall forever withstand.
This is why we shall never fall
We will bend. We may even break at times.
But we will never be sundered.
We are indomitable.
It is my hope that the horrific tragedy wrought by the evil of terrorism and
the subsequent strength shown to resist, and the wonderfully generous support
given by this nation's allies for our plight begins the process that may steer
us towards an American-style unity on a global scale, so that we, humans, as a
people, will grow into the kind of strength that can maintain our existence, and
maybe the planet as a whole, for all time to come.
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