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A month ago, terrorist members of Osama bin Laden's Al-Qaeda organization hijacked three commercial airplanes full of passengers, and flew them straight into the World Trade Center towers, and the Pentagon. A fourth plane had targeted the White House, but was brought down before it could reach its target by the heroic effort of some of the passengers on board. As I write this, we are beginning the second week of our retaliatory bombings of Afghanistan, and things here in the States are starting to get back to normal - or at least as normal as things will be from now on. The Markets have picked up. The patriotic flags are becoming less conspicuous. Our leaders in Washington are cautiously returning to partisan bickering. And those God-awful celebrity fund-raisers for the victims are over with. Or at least, we all pray that they are. But for the families of the almost 7,000 people lost on that day, things will never return to normal. There will always be that gaping hole where a loved one was - a son or daughter, brother or sister, husband, wife, lover, father, mother, friend. And soon, many people are going to have to reevaluate what it means to live "normally" - especially the families of the brave women and men who have gone off to fight overseas, perhaps to sacrifice their lives in this noble war against terrorism. When I saw the footage of the towers coming down, and the people digging through the rubble, desperately searching for survivors - I was stunned, horrified, fearful, and immensely saddened. After I heard that all of my friends and family were alright - a great number of Hellenion members live in the New York and Washington, D.C. areas, and I have grown quite fond of them - it began to lose its immediacy. It started to fade into the background. Continued viewing of the attacks, and the constant assurances of the talking heads on television further desensitized me to it, until it seemed like something from a movie to me - completely unreal, and unconnected to my life. But in the days that followed, I soon learned how this had touched the lives of us all. For you see, I have several friends in the reserves. They had served their time in the Armed Forces, and had gotten out - but for something like six months to a year afterwards the Military can call you back if they have need of you again. And that is precisely what George W. Bush did. Several days later, he activated 5,000 members of the reserves. Thankfully, my friends have not received a call - but they still might. I know that I was on pins and needles worrying about it, because they are so dear to me, and had just come into my life. And here they might have been taken back out again, just as swiftly as they had come into it. I can only imagine how horrible it was for them, not knowing if each phone call might be The One, wondering if they'd be called to leave their lives, friends and family, to serve their country once more, perhaps even to fight in the desert in a real war. I also have some friends who are 16, 17, and 18. I wondered what would happen to them, if the Draft was reinstated. These young women and men - just kids, really - who would be snatched up and forced to go off and fight for their country. And no matter how good and just and necessary this war was - I didn't want my friends to have to do that. I wanted to keep them close to me, hug them, and not let anything bad happen to them ever. As it is, I lost a dear friend. She was moved by her deep convictions and a sense of duty and patriotism to join up with the Marines, and do everything in her power to defend the freedoms so dear to us. I miss her so much. I have no idea what is going on in her life now. I haven't talked to her since she told me of her decision. I'm not sure if she followed through with it. If she's in boot camp right now. What's going to happen to her, where she's going to go, how she's going to serve. I only know that she's no longer in my life, and I'm sad for my loss - even though I am incredibly proud of her decision. There were a lot of things that happened in the days and weeks after the attacks that filled my heart with a sense of pride and love for my country. The first, and perhaps the saddest, was the hundreds of police and firefighters who lost their lives when the second tower collapsed. They had chosen to go in there and help evacuate people from the burning building - knowing full well that it could collapse at any moment. That kind of selfless bravery, that courage and strength of heart serves as a shining example for us all. But it wasn't just police and firefighters who did noble things that day. I heard about a man who worked in the building, and had a friend who was paralyzed, and consequently had to be in a wheelchair. When the planes struck, and everyone began fleeing the building, the man stayed with his friend, to help him along, and simply to be with him as they waited for the firefighters. Had he left behind his friend, he no doubt would have survived. But he stuck by him - even at the cost of his own life. Soon after the attack, the call went out for blood. The hospitals were swamped with survivors, and their blood supply was quickly depleted. No sooner had the call gone out, then thousands of women and men flocked down to their local blood centers to donate blood. And not just in New York - but all across the country. Everywhere, there were lines stretching around city blocks. People would wait there for hours - just to give blood. It was a small thing - but it was something they could do. Soon, the hospitals and blood banks were deluged with donations, and they had to turn away people, because they had given too much. People gave clothing, food, supplies, and money as well. Huge amounts of money were raised for the victims and the rebuilding of the towers. Because that is the American spirit - it is generous and self-sacrificing, and it will not give up. In a thousand tiny acts of kindness, we have demonstrated that. Here, in my own city, I witnessed one such act. Fear that the imminent war might cause an increase in oil, gas prices began to rise all across the country. But our neighborhood gas station - owned and operated by several very nice Pakistani gentlemen - actually lowered its prices as a sign of solidarity and support for our community. They didn't have to - and yet they did. I wish that I could say that everyone in our country rose to the occasion, and that there were none who lashed out in blind hatred at innocent people - just because of their religion, or the color of their skin, or their choice in clothing. But just as the news reported every night on how communities were coming together, and trying to help those in need, they also told us sad and dark stories. Across the country, many Mosques were burned down. Arab and Moslem businesses were vandalized. A Pakistani store owner was shot and killed. Women were assaulted on the street because of the traditional veils they wore. And a general sense of unease and low hatred floated around. I felt this first hand. I'm a dark skinned fellow, with a thick beard and black hair. To many I appear to be of Arab or Jewish descent - although I am really American Indian and Sicilian. As I walked to the library a couple days after the attacks, I received a couple hostile or curious stares, as if they suspected that I carried a bomb in my back-pack, and one person in a pickup truck, flying a giant full-sized flag out of the back of his truck hollered, "Why don't you go back where you came from?" Had it occurred at another time, I might have found it humorous. I mean - I'm Native American. We were here first, you pale-skinned fuck-rat. But at the time I found it threatening, and a little saddening, and I understood that much more what our Moslem sisters and brothers are going through. No matter how much I wanted to escape the nightmare that had been unleashed on our world, I wasn't able to. During the first couple days, it was everywhere, on every channel, the same bit of footage, the same talking heads, saying the same stunned and vaguely conciliatory things. When that got to be too much, I shut off the television for the radio - only to find the same exact content. Only, in between the constant updates, they were playing these sickening patriotic songs. It wasn't that the songs were sickening - though they were - it was the hypocrisy of the stations that played them. Days before, they had been some of the most vocal critics of President Bush - calling him a bumbling idiot who had stolen the election - and now they were cow-towing to him. I guess they saw it as coming together and being supportive in our time of need, rallying behind the President. I just saw it as a little too .... conspicuous, a little too easy. People that change their allegiances that quick just aren't to be trusted in my book. Plus, alternative rock radio stations really shouldn't be playing God Bless America. They just shouldn't. There's something really creepy about that. Though admittedly not as creepy as the celebrities who got together to do a remake of Marvin Gaye's What's Goin On to benefit the victims. That's a song that never should have been allowed to be covered by the likes of Fred Durst, Pink, and the Backstreet Boys. Never. So, I turned off the television, turned off the radio, and dug out some of my old favorite CDs, and spent a lot of time on-line. Apparently, many people had the same idea, since the chats were full, and the message boards and lists busy. But instead of escaping the tragedy, we were constantly forced to address it. Someone would come into a chat, and make a small comment, and it would spark another round of violent debate. It was the main focus for every single list I was on - including some rather odd ones. On the Gay Pagan Bears list, they had been sharing photos in the days leading up to the attack. And, quite rightly, I thought, they continued doing so after the fact. Well, one member complained, saying that it was inappropriate to be looking at beautiful men during such a time of intense tragedy. Remember - this is a list for Pagans who like big hairy men. And he's expecting some kind of deep analyses of the situation. Seemed odd to me. But I guess we all found our ways to cope after the incident - his, perhaps, was lashing out at people. That seemed to be a rather common means of handling it. Many of my lists erupted in open warfare, culminating in a number of mass exoduses, and at least one list closing as a result of it. But for the most part, the people that left were annoying, so I don't really mind that they're gone. There's so much more I could say. So much has happened
since then - we live in a different world now. From now on,
you'll always remember where you were on 9-11. Our lives
will be chopped up, with that day serving as the dividing
line. Before WTC, and after WTC. I have no idea where we're
going as a nation. What we'll be facing. I know it looks
grim at times. For instance, the cases of contact with
anthrax have risen to 12 - will it spread much further? Will
some other biological or chemical agent be released against
us? What about the nukes? Will we have to use them against
our enemies? Will they use them against us? I'm only 24 -
will I be called in on the Draft? So many questions, and I
have no answers for any of them. But I do know this. There
is something special about America - something great about
the American spirit. And we will survive. No matter what
they throw at us, no matter what dark path we are led down,
we will come out of this a better, and truer nation, and our
ideals will shine brightly for the rest of the world to see.
I have no doubt of that whatsoever. |
