I read some inspiring posts regarding 9/11 this week. Sam Lawrence played up an interesting parallel between our need to connect with people then, and our need to connect with people now. Now through socially networked technology. Adam Greenfield, an exceptional writer whom I’ve unfortunately never heard of before, said straight up that Americans are ‘pants-shittingly’ scared and we’re seeing the effects of that shock rise to the surface now. Jeffrey Zeldman perhaps proved the existence of that fear with his observation of 9/11 the following year: “[T]he animated flag on the JumboTron … seemed to proclaim that our enemies may fly our planes into our buildings, but damn it, we have big-screen animation.” It’s the least we could do.
On Being an Outsider
Having been in Canada at the time, I’m still impressed that I heard about the attack before the second plane hit. How did I hear about it? Good old fashioned FM radio.
At the time, my heart sank — I was very concerned that things were going to get a lot worse, and perhaps I still am. Since then… nothing’s happened!
And I think that Adam Greenfield got it right. We’re terrified. I am. I’m scared for my family. I’m scared for my homes (USA and Canada) and I’m scared for the future. I don’t know what’s going to happen and it bothers me to no end. Not only are we facing technological advances that transform the very nature of what it means to be human, but now we have to deal with the malicious fact that we’re vulnerable too.
Paralyzed and Thinking
And this fear, I think, has led to a detrimental stagnation. Months after, I suffered some powerful personal loss of my own and I feel that my recovery is very well in parallel to the country I now call home. The bravado that once saturated us became wounded. We are no longer impenetrable, and we grieve still.
We’ve tensed up and I’ve lived like that for years now. Tense. Nervous. Scared. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even dare to try. On a larger scale, I wonder if that’s how we all feel as we move with the geological swiftness of a glacier to a new place of comfort.
And I’m still healing. The most powerful antidote is the unconditional love of the woman whom I sacrificed everything for. Earlier that year I had already decided to move into the States, and I’ve yet to regret that choice. Many people looked at me incredulously, wondering how could I want to move there with how dangerous it was and I thought “Because I won’t be alone.” I never said that, but I felt it. Only now do I put the pieces together that how I feel and how this country feels are similar.
Divided, we fall. United, we stand.
You are a wonderful writer. This hit home.
But I am not sure “nothing’s happened” – I mean, yes, there have been no more major terrorist attacks in the US, but the war in Iraq and our current economic woes can in some ways be traced to 9/11 and the actions taken afterwards. I think it has been a stated part of Al Qaeda’s plan to bankrupt the US, and they may be succeeding. If we can only face the truth, and start living within our means and helping our government to recover from the Bush years in whatever ways we can (including the “T” word), then I think we’ll truly be on the road to recovery and taking – re-taking – our destinies in our own hands again.
Keep up the thought-provoking posts!
Thanks. I’m really glad you like it, and you’ve made some good points yourself.
Heck of a plan, and we’ve mostly done it to ourselves. On the upside though, I think we’re near the end of the injuries. If we’re nationally going through the five stages of grief, I’d say we’re done teetering on the edge of depression and falling swiftly into it. After that is acceptance, which would see us all settle down and recuperate properly.