September 11, 2009

I have a tattoo of the Twin Towers on my right arm—fairly prominent, about 3 1/2 inches high. Often, strangers stop me to talk about my tattoos, and usually, since 9/11, this is the one they notice. The most common question I get is "Did you lose somebody?"

This used to surprise me. We all lost somebody. We all lost every one of the victims. I hope it takes nothing away from the people who lost spouses, partners, children, parents, and beloved friends and relatives, to say that the collective loss is profound.

We all lost somebody.

People had all sorts of reactions: Fear, rage, panic, numbness. I was, and remain, deeply sad. The hole in Ground Zero remains a hole in my heart.

My all those who lost their lives that day be at peace. May their loved ones be comforted. Let all those who sacrificed so much, physically and emotionally, in rescue and recovery efforts, be acknowledged and healed. May all of us pause for a moment to reflect upon all that we take for granted, and how swiftly it can change.

(Cross-posted in memorium)

At a Loss for Words

It's September 11 again. September 11 will come around once every year for the rest of time, and I suppose as long as I'm blogging, I'll want to commemorate it. Last year, the 5th anniversary lent itself to eloquence, but when I look back on what I wrote that day, I'm most impressed by the clarity of my memory.

9YOD came home from school yesterday with the assignment to write three sentences about 9/11. Given that she was three in 2001, she needed to pick my brain for information. I started to tell her about my recollections of the day – and found details that were so clear just 365 days ago are now blurred and faded. This past year has been a long ride of loss and grief, and earth-shaking world events have paled in importance to getting through a day, and then two, and then a few more without bursting into tears at the slightest provocation.

The people who lost family and friends on 9/11 must have felt somewhat the same. Stunned by grief, exhausted by the sheer necessity of getting up every morning and doing the minimum that had to be done to keep those who remained from falling apart. Desperate to find some meaning in the horror of pain and death. Struggling to explain to uncomprehending children why the loved one wouldn’t be coming home again. And forced to do all those things under the microscope of the national media. Judged by those detached souls who provide social commentary, some of whom started out with sympathy but, when faced with diverse, unexpected, or “inappropriate” responses to loss, turned on the survivors.

Six years on, those survivors have been joined by even greater numbers (Americans, Iraqis, and others) whose spouses, parents, siblings, friends have been taken from them by the ravages of an ill-conceived and poorly managed war. And those who now care for loved ones whose minds and bodies will never recover from their injuries. Iraq’s infrastructure has been severely damaged, and the purported “rebuilding” is in the hands of private contractors whose primary, perhaps only, goal is taking the US government for every cent they can steal. Osama bin Laden is apparently still free to broadcast videos around the world and gloat over his crimes. The Taliban is alive and kicking in Afghanistan.

And our leaders are moving the goalposts yet again, telling us, 4½ years in, that they need just a little more time to “win” a war they assured us would take six weeks to six months. The light at the end of the proverbial tunnel is just a mirage.

When I sat down to write this post, I thought I was at a loss for words. I’m not. I’m just at a loss. Period.

Uploaded by watsonsinelgin
November 20, 2000

(Re-posted from last year; more photos there.)

September 11, 2007

As I listen to the radio this morning, I am reminded of the date. And the more I listen, the more it becomes clear: No one knows what to say.

Arthur's school calendar has today marked as "The Day We Will Never Forget." Okay. If we'll never forget, why do we have to mark it? There's something so self-serving, so bombastic, about the statement. Never forgetting is internal, but marking the calendar with a big Twin Towers graphic overlaid by those word says "We'll never forget motherfucker."

And certainly rage is as appropriate a reaction as sorrow (which is where I tend to live with it), but graphic arts bombast I can do without.

We have been abused and taken advantage of by our government. Our love of country has been manipulated, our grief has been played like a violin. Osama bin Laden is still free and our troops were prevented from capturing him, and no one who actually had anything to do with the attacks of September 11 has been brought to justice. More American troops have died in Iraq, a war cynically sold to us as having 'something' to do with September 11, than actually died on September 11, 2001.

Our civil liberties have been eroded past the point of horror in the name of fighting back, and yet, we have not really fought back. There is no evidence that the PATRIOT Act or the illegal wiretappings have captured any terrorists.

The city of New York itself has been treated with cynicism and gross disregard. Respiratory disease among clean-up workers is rampant. Giuliani bears a great deal of blame for refusing to allow OSHA to run the safety show at Ground Zero, while the federal government is accountable for a false EPA report declaring the area safe, and yanking away money promised to survivors and rescuers.

And I could go on.

So today's memorials focus on grief, because the rage that once was directed at bin Laden alone is now directed inward, towards our own government, and that is unbearable.

And about grief, there is so little to say.

(A note to my IIRTZ readers: I live about 20 miles from Ground Zero, so the memorials and such are local events. Cross-posted.)