Six Years On

Six years ago today, I drove through the Lincoln Tunnel on a bright blue morning listening to The Black Crowes and oblivious to the airplane that just struck the World Trade Center. Like so many Americans, I was equally oblivious to the dangers that had been circling us around the world.

Five days later, I sent an email to everyone in my address book expressing my confusion, fear, resolve and doubt. I'm particularly struck by my inclusion of Iraq into a potential list of possibilities. How the hell did that stupid idea get into my head? Why were people talking about Sadam Hussein then? Fucking Dick Cheney.

Anyway, here's what I wrote. I know a lot more today then I did then. I'm not sure how much safer we are. I'm not sure how much we've learned. I'm not sure how many more years we'll only have this one day to remember these 3,000 people killed six years ago.

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My To Do List 9/10/01:

--Fix Sink
--2 Wedding gifts
--Buy new Dylan CD
--Register for New School writing course
--Buy pasta bowl
--Plan Vacation for fall

My To Do List 9/16/01:

--Survive

I don't want to be overly dramatic. But life doesn't get much more dramatic than airplanes slamming into skyscrapers. And I don't know what to expect next. And that's scary.

I'm not necessarily a man of action. I anticipate that the role of most Americans in the coming months and years won't be much more than working in our various, perhaps frivolous industries for nothing more than the expressed purpose of maintaining our economy and tangentially fueling our industrial and military strength through donations and taxes. No. I, like many of you, won't likely be taking any direct action in this newfangled war. And so my way of coping is simply to understand. To empower myself with knowledge of what sacrifices it will take and what life will be like in order to defeat global terrorism. Perhaps much more will be required of me. Since Tuesday, I have joked and smiled and laughed with friends and family--acts of both defiance and necessity. We must not lead morose lives cowed by madmen. Yet, through occasional teary-eyed bouts of helplessness and marvelous pride in this city's character, I ask questions.

Is our sometimes incompetent and often sluggish government capable of ensuring security for thousands of daily domestic commercial flights? If necessary, are we prepared to invade and occupy Afghanistan and Iraq? To squelch any potential revolution and secure the nuclear arsenal in Pakistan as a potential result of their intentions to assist us in apprehending bin Laden? Do we have the capacity to defend our airspace and cities while spreading our military all over Asia? Will our actions polarize the moderate Muslim world against us in the holy war bin Laden clearly wants? How do you measure victory in such a war? Can we anticipate 5 more terrorist attacks in the next year? 50 more? All across the country?

I don't have a clue, and yet I am preparing for the worst. Six days ago, I barely knew a thing about the twisted motivations of Muslim extremists or the precarious nature of geopolitics. But I'm learning. And I'm attaching a few worthwhile articles and editorials that might help you out, if you haven't found them already. They are more difficult to read and digest than some of the fist-pumping jingoistic monologues making their way around through email. As always, we need to pick and choose in order to get any sense of the truth out of the media. I hope these choices serve you well.

Some of you, I may not have spoken to in ages. I can only hope these words find you and your families intact in the midst of this tragedy. And for those that have losses, I can only wish for you to find whatever it is you might seek in your time of grief. For now, I am still here. I feel as though I have so little of real importance to do. I want nothing more than an end to this madness.

This summer, I was concerned with weekend plans or whether the Writers' Guild strike could delay the premier of "The West Wing," whether I'd be able to ever keep a tee shot from launching into the woods, and lamented a hockey team's inability to bring dynastic glory to (of all places) New Jersey. Today, I live in a city of carnage, rubble and heartbreak while I shamelessly nurse an undying nostalgia for our lost frivolity.