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Sep. 12th, 2006 12:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
adrian_turtleWERS played "Suicide is Painless" at 6:00 this morning, when a lot of people would be waking up to it on clock radios. I heard half the song before I was awake enough to recognize it as a new version and realize I liked it more than the familiar one. I like it, and it might be appropriate to the day (for itself, and via MASH), but it's not good for me these days. I was fumbling through my memory for more appropriate songs, but most of what came to mind were songs about war. Even a lot of the antiwar songs are *about* war. They just don't fit.
On my way to the bus stop, the town looked remarkably empty. I wondered if today was a holiday. My company only closes for the main holidays, so I'm accustomed to going to work on Columbus Day or Patriot's Day, when the schools are closed and the buses run limited schedules. The streets were that kind of empty and quiet. When I saw a postal worker going to work, he seemed to be hurrying across an empty town. I wished I had a camera. This town is usually awake by 7 on a workday. It doesn't actually bustle, but there's traffic, people, noise. The streets feel this quiet on holidays, ...but then of course the post office is closed. For a few minutes before I saw the bus, it felt as if September 11 had sponteneously become a public holiday, accumulating some of the sentiment that was once attached to November 11. I'm speculating. I never felt that sentiment around November 11 as a living thing, only heard about it secondhand.
"Why must you go abroad fighting for strangers? When you could be safe at home free from all dangers?"
It doesn't fit because September 11 was such a civilian thing. My company had a general business meeting this morning, just because it's the second Monday of the month. The CEO told the story of the day 5 years ago, connecting the larger history to the company history -- how the sales team were all in Somerville, safe. How they were frantically phoning all the service technicians to find out if they were safe. How lucky we were not to lose anyone. And we all sat quietly for a moment. The CEO didn't call attention to the fact that he ran a little startup company 5 years ago. Of the 140-odd people who work there now, perhaps 30 were there 5 years ago. The prospect of losing my job (especially the uglier ways it could happen) still scares me more than plane crashes or anthrax.
I rejected my government's directions to go shopping in the face of terrorism, to buy lots of fuel and consumer goods. I did not panic on cue or buy plastic sheeting and duct tape. I did what everyone did when things got scary, and called or emailed the people I cared about. My mother phoned me at work, between the impacts of the two planes. I have an uncomfortable conversation with my mother every month or two. But when she heard a plane *from Boston* had crashed in New York, she was frantic with worry that I might be on it. I thought she was being unreasonable. Then a few hours later, the sense of overwhelming worry started to get to me. I realized she had done exactly the right thing. By the next day, I was doing it myself, tracking down people that probably had not been there, but I felt I had to make sure they were ok. Affirming the connection, even if all we said was, "Are you ok?" and "Here I am." and "I heard from so-and-so." There's something important in that.
On my way to the bus stop, the town looked remarkably empty. I wondered if today was a holiday. My company only closes for the main holidays, so I'm accustomed to going to work on Columbus Day or Patriot's Day, when the schools are closed and the buses run limited schedules. The streets were that kind of empty and quiet. When I saw a postal worker going to work, he seemed to be hurrying across an empty town. I wished I had a camera. This town is usually awake by 7 on a workday. It doesn't actually bustle, but there's traffic, people, noise. The streets feel this quiet on holidays, ...but then of course the post office is closed. For a few minutes before I saw the bus, it felt as if September 11 had sponteneously become a public holiday, accumulating some of the sentiment that was once attached to November 11. I'm speculating. I never felt that sentiment around November 11 as a living thing, only heard about it secondhand.
"Why must you go abroad fighting for strangers? When you could be safe at home free from all dangers?"
It doesn't fit because September 11 was such a civilian thing. My company had a general business meeting this morning, just because it's the second Monday of the month. The CEO told the story of the day 5 years ago, connecting the larger history to the company history -- how the sales team were all in Somerville, safe. How they were frantically phoning all the service technicians to find out if they were safe. How lucky we were not to lose anyone. And we all sat quietly for a moment. The CEO didn't call attention to the fact that he ran a little startup company 5 years ago. Of the 140-odd people who work there now, perhaps 30 were there 5 years ago. The prospect of losing my job (especially the uglier ways it could happen) still scares me more than plane crashes or anthrax.
I rejected my government's directions to go shopping in the face of terrorism, to buy lots of fuel and consumer goods. I did not panic on cue or buy plastic sheeting and duct tape. I did what everyone did when things got scary, and called or emailed the people I cared about. My mother phoned me at work, between the impacts of the two planes. I have an uncomfortable conversation with my mother every month or two. But when she heard a plane *from Boston* had crashed in New York, she was frantic with worry that I might be on it. I thought she was being unreasonable. Then a few hours later, the sense of overwhelming worry started to get to me. I realized she had done exactly the right thing. By the next day, I was doing it myself, tracking down people that probably had not been there, but I felt I had to make sure they were ok. Affirming the connection, even if all we said was, "Are you ok?" and "Here I am." and "I heard from so-and-so." There's something important in that.
