On September 11 at school
The kids I teach were mostly 10 or 11 on September 11, 2001. Mostly the accounts they gave today in class recollected the news accounts of "an airplane that flew into the World Trade Center." Some saw the events unfold on televisions in classrooms. Others apparently didn't find out until they got home later that day.
One young lady was very concerned for a family member currently serving in Iraq. Another Still believes strongly that George W. Bush has done good things for the country, though she couldn't say exactly what those were.
Look, politics aside - you know what I think about Mr. Bush - none of these kids had any point of reference for understanding how exactly that tragedy changed their world.
They don't have a reference or awareness yet of the USA PATRIOT ACT. They also don't have any understanding of the ferocity of the people who want to kill Americans.
These kids don't know who their true enemies are. They don't yet understand that billions of people around the world would like to have what they have. They sit in a classroom in suburban Ohio not realizing what's in store for them.
2 comments:
Great column, Brian. Great to see that you're writing and writing what's on your mind. Oh, and I totally agree. Keep up the good work. I'd leave my contact info, but I'm scared of spam. If you want to get in touch with me, go to savannahnow.com and search for contact. Hope to hear from you soon. Take care.
Your friend,
John Stoehr
My writing about 9/11
Sleeping under the same big sky…
It began with a phone call from a friend. Turn on the t.v. No one ever phones that early. This was important. I was already watching stunned and concerned because my daughter worked in NYC!!! Bloody hell….
The weather shifts in September, oh-so-slightly. It's a softer version of August. Sun's more golden than yellow, it slides in at a distinct slant in the mornings. That sly, reticent dawn, I never can forget this slant of light, this particular angle. It's etched into my mind like scent or song. I got in my car around noon. The streets were utterly devoid of traffic. So quiet. The sun still seemed to be at that strange, oblique angle, as if it never really came up that day.
Do you ever feel like everything has changed? That people changed? We've struggled together and wept together, one nation under God or (Your God) or (No God), and we gave ourselves a big pat on the back. Go us! We're united, we have heroes. Because ... why? Because we behaved like decent human beings when we should have.
The smoke cleared. And then everyone went separate ways again.
One day, a prominent sociologist will write about the effects trauma has when inflicted on and witnessed by an entire country. We might know then, how it's drawn us together in some ways, but also how it has been a divisive force in the collective human psyche. There's a question you sometimes hear, like the kind that went around the work break room. If you knew the world was going to end in two days, how would you spend your time? Listen to the answers, how people want to pack it all in. Would you go to Jamaica and get drunk on the beach? Empty your bank account, buy a pile of coke and hire a high-priced escort? Would you take every prescription medication in the house and hope that ushered you into oblivion? Obliterate the reality of pain?
It's September 11, 2008. Many people still struggle amongst the rubble to distinguish themselves in some notable fashion, because this has become important, to make the mark before the buildings fall. We are enclaves rather than societies. I sometimes wonder if we've stopped thinking about a future. Seven years ago, I felt the momentum, that steady "go" slowdown and stop on the decline. The soft heartbeat of mortal persistence slowed. There is only this moment, and it lingers on and on, pausing only for a disco nap. Sex, drugs, big cars, big vacations, crams life into every moment frenetically. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die?
We don't love just one, because ...
(We say they're going to be all right.)
On January 28, 1986, a white titanium bird splintered in the sky as seven intrepid souls looked into the ethers. This wasn't supposed to happen. Nothing remained but the winnowing line of smoke that slowly dissipated into the blue. All of our hope went into the journey, as we reached into the ethers with them -- us space age sentimentalists. It's different when it all comes crashing down around you. When these are just people trying to live through another workday, like you and me. You see the debris, you pick through the flesh that's fallen from the sky. All of us did it, even though we weren't even there. This wasn't supposed to happen, either. Cry for our fallen. Cry for how we've fallen.
Don't forget who you were before this day seven years ago, either. You're still in there somewhere. Like the song says…We are all sleeping under the same great big sky…..
Sigh...
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