I wasn't going to say anything about 9/11 until I saw that Selling Sno Cones at the Beach felt the same way I did: what is there to add to what has already been said? But I did have kind of an odd experience yesterday, so I'll share it.
I was at the 9/11 tribute at Lake Harriet last night, not because of some overwhelming sense of patriotism, but because John was playing in the orchestra. I missed the beginning of the concert since I was out on my bike having a lovely ride around Lake Harriet, Lake Calhoun, and Lake of the Isles, so when I sat down to listen to the concert, I couldn't get anywhere near the bandshell. So I chose a spot at the edge of the lawn where I could still hear and settled in, alternately listening and reading a book until the light went completely.
About an hour into the concert, I was approached by a guy toting a camera and a bunch of other equipment. He said he was from Channel 5, and would I be willing to say a few words on camera about my thoughts and feelings on the day? I turned him away, since I didn't think I really had any thoughts -- profound or mundane -- on the day (besides, I looked terrible, having just been on the bike for over an hour). So TV guy moved on to the people sitting next to me, an attractive family with two young children who were happy to speak their minds on camera.
I thought about it, though, after the TV guy left. The weirdest thing about it was how normal everything was. It was concert in the park on a beautiful night, just like any other summer Saturday at Lake Harriet. As usual, passing bikers, skaters, and dog walkers would pause to listen for a little while before going on. Kids ran and played in whatever bits of space they could find around the outskirts of the crowd, occasionally shushed by their parents when the music got quiet. Strangest of all, jets passed overhead on their landing approaches every couple of minutes, and nobody took the slightest notice. Suddenly I became hyper-aware of those jets -- what if one suddenly crashed into the bandshell? I knew that one wouldn't, but I kept imagining it over and over, trying to force myself to comprehend in any real way what it must have been like three years ago for those people in New York and Washington.
I remember being terrified three years ago, even way out here in the middle of the country. I remember agreeing with the conventional wisdom that nothing could ever be the same, because it seemed so obvious at the time. But here we are, the horrors of 2001 having receded (at least for those of us who only saw them on television), and things are the same. Our daily lives haven't substantially changed because of what happened. Sure, it takes a little longer to get on an airplane, but that's minor. We have to go on as we always have, partly because we haven't been given a reasonable alternative, and partly because to do anything else is almost as unthinkable as another attack the magnitude of 2001's.
I had these thoughts, and felt guilty and unpatriotic for having them. But then after the concert, John and I grabbed some food at Famous Dave's in Linden Hills. The server noticed John's t-shirt, emblazoned with the 9/11 tribute logo. She asked him what that was all about, and she said, "You know, it's so weird how far away that feels. Everything seems so normal now, you can't even remember what it was like that day." And I felt better, because I realized that I wasn't the only one experiencing that sense of disconnection from how I felt that day and during the weeks afterward. Is it just the passing of time that causes these rifts, or is there something else going on here?
Posted by Stacie at September 12, 2004 12:14 PMI couldn't figure out why the flags were at half-mast today. "Who died?" I asked John. "Are you serious?" he replied. He explained it was probably due to 9-11. "Duh", I told myself.
I think our lives have been changed in numerous, subtle ways. The Bush Admisistration has used 9-11 to erode some personal freedoms, etc., but it a general sense, life goes on for those of us lucky enough to be alive.
It is a beautiful day.
Posted by: Philip Hunter at September 12, 2004 03:16 PMYeah. I think on some level, you have to block out the horrors (not to mention the possibilities) just so you can function. What good does it do to live in fear? What good does it do to dwell on tragedy? You have to go on -- but it's hard to feel like that's an appropriate response.
Posted by: Stacie at September 14, 2004 07:36 AMI caught a bit of the PBS "Why Buildings Fail", or something like that mid-afternoon 9/11 and my first thought was what an odd time of day to be airing such a program--Saturday afternoon. Another member of my household kindly pointed out the date, and I too, felt horrible and very sad. As if hearing every detail of overheated building materials collapsing on thousands of people wasn't awful enough.
Posted by: Kristi at September 17, 2004 10:09 PM