Oh I can't believe the news today
I can't close my eyes and make it go away
How long, how long must we sing this song...
--- U2In the summer of 2004 we took the kids to New York City, my hometown, and the trip of a lifetime. We visited impressive museums, ate wonderful food, met interesting people, and had a great time. And we went walking...
We went left the towers of Midtown and the vast greenery of Central Park to go downtown, past the tenements of the Lower East Side and the cluttered alleys of Chinatown. We wound our way through history, along three hundred year old streets; past the Civic Center where slaves were once hung, through the ghost neighborhood of Five Points with its Irish gangs long descended into respectability (like the city itself), past the Old City Hall, built at what was once thought would be the northern limit of a teeming town. Down Broadway, past the church where Washington prayed, asking the Almighty for strength to lead an experiment in democracy far from certain of success, past the graveyard of patriots and humble citizens, people, like ourselves, who made this republic succeed and thrive, despite our conflicting passions and ideals, despite our fear and greed. We headed west along close streets packed with bike messengers and bureaucrats, food vendors and bond traders; streets just three years before made dark with an opaque cloud of death and destruction. We arrived at a wide open space, now filled with light and construction, at that place I’d visited when I was only four. Where I had once peeked through a fence, held up high by my uncle, to gaze into a great, deep pit…. I stood again with my own family. The pit had returned: Ground Zero.
In many ways it was the same in 2004 as it had been in 1967; a great open space in the dense city, people going about their business, the river flowing nearby, sailboats enjoying the breeze. No longer the place, however, where the sky met the city. Instead, a place where heaven seemed too close and too far, at the same time.
A friend told us that on 9-11-01 she was sitting on the couch in a mental illness facility, waiting to be released. “They told me I was ready to go back into the world,” she related, “but there I was watching planes slam into the towers and thinking maybe the world was crazier than me.”
In Greenwich Village, where I spent 7 summers, we had crossed a wide and familiar intersection. The neighborhood was as I remembered from childhood except for one expected difference; where two huge buildings had overlooked all, I saw the dreaded and utterly shocking emptiness. How do people who live there ever get used to that void? To work, to celebrate, to stroll around while that malignant vacancy looms overhead, a constant reminder of their insecurity. And insecure they are, even on Orange Alert (as it was in the city while we were there) we saw less security than at a Dodgers-Giants game. Somehow, I guess, they must have found ways to look at that empty sky and feel the fullness of life a little more. Those that live near the grim spectacle have no choice but to feel themselves bound to those who’ve been lost, not just here, but everywhere, and therefore make more of the lives they still have to live rather than give in to despair and anxiety. It has to be nerve-wracking to depend more than the average person on faith and hope as tools for living, but you don’t see New York emptying out.
On that early Tuesday morning in September, four years ago, I remember waking to warm sunshine and the quiet sound of NPR. Groggy, I began listening to a quavering voice talk of unfolding horror, then cutting away to somber string music until more could be reported. And, oh God, there was more coming. I lay there for a few moments trying to understand if what I had just heard was true. I looked at the blank TV screen on our dresser and then to the remote nearby. If I turned it on and there was some cheerful newsperson gabbing with a celebrity then I would know it was just some snippet of nightmare as I came awake. But if it was the dark vision I thought I heard, then what? I lay there for a few minutes more, the last minutes of an old world about to vanish. A world I knew deep in my heart was not completely real, too safe, too removed from the world as it is. Dark ravens coming home to roost… I wanted to roll over, hold tight to my love, and pull the covers over my head... but instead I turned on the TV and watched...
I watched my hometown, my capital, my nation, my beliefs attacked. I saw the lovers of death trying to destroy those who embrace life. Evil existed in plain view, on a warm, sunny late-summer day. Evil, so prevalent in our world, had come winging down the river I once sailed, riding our technology (and our freedoms), and created a global-scale carnival of fear. In the place I used to ride my bike and gaze skyward in awe.
I wanted (and still want) to go out and lay waste to those who would do such things to any and all. I wanted to topple their precarious dictatorships, destroy their traditions of cruelty and death, I wanted to shake their foundations with shock and awe, I wanted to pull them from their spider-holes, slit their throats, rip out their black hearts, and feast on their despair. I wanted to scream in anger and wail in anguish and fall to the ground and surrender to all the desolation... no…
NO, I wanted to pull back from the brink and find the better angels even as I grimace in rage.
Besides... our kids had woken up and like the many millions, they too were watching the horror unfold, in real time. I had to be careful, I needed to hold it together. I had to find a way to tell them about what next. We explained and reassured as best as possible, leaning too little on hope and too much on the fact that Eureka is too far away to ever be a target (what kind of reassurance is that in the long run?). It's so hard to calm children when there is nothing to calm yourself (and how that must be a similar problem for so many parents around the world, in places that are very much targets). They were very quiet for a long time, which was the worst part of it. When Kayleigh was small she was nervous in the dark before sleep. We would stay in her bedroom for a while and she would pepper us with questions about things, especially her fears but lots of other things, too, and so we would talk until she was relaxed and ready to sleep. Three months after 9-11 Kay broke down and cried and asked me why it happened, “why does the world have to be like this?!” Evil? Illness? Greed? I held her as she sobbed but I had no real answer this time to another question out of the darkness, another childhood coming to an end.
For a while we all talked about it. I remember my neighbor saying 2001 was the worst year ever, "first Dale Earnhardt dies, then this!" Old heroes fall, new ones rise up, some in the most unlikely places, like Flight 93. A Eureka game warden was on that flight, flying back from his Grandmother's 100th birthday celebration. He was one of the brave who stormed the cockpit. Or the cops and firefighters we all took for granted. We talked about how small a world it really, frightfully, is. The son of a woman in our church had finished cooking school and just obtained a job on the breakfast shift at the Windows on the World Restaurant on top of the WTC. Tuesday was his day off. I recalled how I had bumped into a friend from my HSU dorm during my only visit ever to the roof of WTC. Neither of us had known the other was visiting NY. What are the odds? We all talked about it for a short while after it happened, but then clammed up. It was just too horrifying to contemplate; perhaps, also, we felt some deep collective guilt for whatever it was that our country has actually done to engender such hatred.
Throughout our history there have been passionate & articulate defenses of causes vast numbers of Americans thought just, such as Jim Crow or Isolationism, but we look back now and are dumbfounded that so many could believe in such things. The world seems solidly against much of what we do now and indeed, we may look back someday well within our lifetimes and be struck again by our folly. So what path should we take? I hear much condemnation coming from the same places in the world that look to us for answers but I hear few solutions that stand the test of absolute reality. Most people in the world aren’t interested in concrete solutions but only in opportunities to vent their own frustrations. Eventually, someone has to wade in and try to cut out a cancer with the scalpel of invasive transformation. Terribly risky, yes, and crucial that it be done with caution, but to bemoan the cutting this entails denies the reality of the growing tumor lurking beneath.
I’m not wearing the big cowboy hat and waving the huge foam “#1” finger. America isn’t the best at everything and our problems are many, but for humanity we offer the best overall package of opportunities and with diligence, discipline, and compassion we can improve on that. Walk those streets of New York with me, not just Manhattan but into the boroughs, filled with Jamaicans, Nigerians, Mexicans, Lithuanians, Saudis, Malaysians, Koreans. They didn’t just come here for a job or to get rich, they came for a deeper lungful of oxygen for the spirit with breath of sweaty effort. They didn’t come to be surrounded by Gap or Wal-Mart but to be amid confidence, imagination, hope. Something better, and most wish it would come to the homes and people they left behind. Some, in fact, will try to bring it to them. The opposite of futility, that’s what we have around us; that is what we seek to protect. It’s not swagger or bullying, though some could warp it into that, it’s optimism, the thing most feared by the fanatical enemies of free will and the individual.
FRODO: I can’t do this, Sam.
SAM: I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?
But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.
Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
FRODO: What are we holding on to, Sam?
SAM: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.
--- From “The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers”Many of us don’t realize the true unchanging nature of man; it is volatile and fickle. The best systems of civilization tried to recognize this and seek a way that encouraged the best nature of humanity, instead of denying or recreating it. I think America has made mistakes, some brutally stupid, many selfish, but we are still a place and an idea of hope. A beacon not just of power and might, but a beacon because we call out in invitation to every single person to join the dream, the dream of creating a nation and a world that is not only comfortable but just, open, and noble for every single person. A place where the future matters more than past, and every person can matter more than they think they can. From that vision comes our power, despite all the mistakes that capricious human nature can cause. We believe not in cynicism, but look to the better days to come, and once embraced by the individual, that belief changes his possibilities; once embraced by a society, that belief is protected for the individual, and he or she can thrive.
When we set out to remake a region, and not just by war, we are feared by the locals. Our power makes our higher motives victimized by our own success, and our future success held hostage to our global image. We come and are held to a higher standard because that is what we set for ourselves and what our nation believes can be set for humanity. It’s one we too often fail to achieve, because it is a high standard, and that failure is watched closely by all, though not all are wishing for that failure… indeed more are hoping for our success than most of us know. When we make the inevitable mistakes, such as abusing prisoners, even though that may be routine for the region, there is double outrage at our responsibility, and the locals lose hope, hope they may already be afraid to articulate, let alone act upon, but now become afraid even to consider, because we may turn out to be like everyone else and let them down. It's terribly hard to hold to a higher standard. Ask Gandhi, or Martin Luther King, human beings who called upon the individual to renew hope by living it. Or FDR who saved hope by molding a directionless, despairing nation into action around it. Ask those that sacrificed everything they have so that other might see the future as something to believe in. It’s hard.
All my college studies in history, politics, geography, and all the writing in such subjects I’ve enjoyed since my formal schooling ended ( I’ve actually been a better student since then!) have really helped me gain some grasp of what’s happening in the world, and what might come, and what needs to be done. I’ve never been more grateful for my education, such as it was. But it is a difficult world to understand, with thorny, complex solutions, and no guarantees, of course. Most of us wanted a smaller, freer world, with cheap shoes, big cars, and easy credit. Most of us also want it to be liberal in justice and safe for the planet. The revolution was not televised because we didn’t really want a socialist paradise with walls to keep in dissidents. But consequences come with everything and one of dangers of comfort is ignorance and apathy. You may think it’s ok to just work for yer stuff and not care about much else, but somebody out there cares enough about something bigger and darker, and he’s coming for you. Hopefully there are enough of us around the world to stop him, maybe even change him, eventually. Maybe what motivates him will change us, too. Right now, we have to understand why and how to make that change for the good. Evil always results in changes; good requires more sacrifice for a little transformation. Answers have to be found in our hearts amid the psychic chaos, choices for what to believe and what to learn more about and, hardest of all, solutions for how to make the world a better place for all.
All of this leaves most of us nearly paralyzed by the conflicting notions of what to do, who to believe, and how we got here. And time is passing swiftly… A lot of folks are partly right, some are more correct, but ultimately, of course, the truth must be decided by you, and it must come by looking directly at what’s genuine. So in 2004 we came to the World Trade Center, to pay our respects, and to confront a little more of the truth of our world. To look and not turn away or pretend it isn’t there. This is where all your sympathies have to be confronted, all your doubts & confusion. This is not a place for ambiguity. To cling too dearly to moral relativism in this place is to finally admit your own delusion. This is stark and blunt and real. Absolute reality. Ground Zero.
On 11-9-1989, as Tom Friedman of the NY Times pointed out, young hopeful people broke through a seemingly impenetrable wall of despair and repression, without any violence:
“As I thought about those two dates, it struck me that they each represent a powerful form of imagination at work in the world today. 11-9, the fall of the Berlin Wall, was brought about by people daring to imagine a different and more open world, one where every human being would be free to realize his or her full potential and then summoning the courage to act on that imagination. The imagination of 9-11, of course, is a pessimistic imagination, one that seeks to divide people, one that seeks to erect walls and borders, one that seeks to make the world into a danger zone and America into a ghetto. As a result of it, the world that was your oyster seemed to close up a bit like an oyster's shell."
Friedman goes on to point out that whatever we do, protecting the openness of the ever smaller world, the community of the planet, from those that would seek to rebuild those grey walls of oppression and fear, is our most pressing task. Cooperation, in trade, in health care, in the environment, in justice and democratic principles, and learning to understand each other and our needs and dreams, is the way back from this darkness… Cooperation as the true Center of the World and, sadly, protection against those who reject it and would destroy it. To deny they exist is to deny safety for billions and ultimately, yourself. It is to walk toward the Pit and deny you would fall in. We must stand up to them and their ideology and hunt them down to the ends of the earth.
“
Hold your ground, hold your ground. Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers. I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down, but it is not this day. This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand!” ---- Lord of the Rings: The Two TowersAnd for those in the ends of the earth who have "cast off the old dogmas of socialism and protectionism" and rejected hatred and terror, those who are willing to try to join the world community, we need to pour out all the help we can. Our brethren around the world, not just in Europe, but many of our brave neighbors in Latin America, Aids-ravaged Africa, and, especially right now, the stricken shores of Asia, have given up much, torn down their walls, removed their economic protections, disbanded their juntas, diluted their cultures, and tightened their belts, agreeing to find peace, stability, and comfort on the winding free market road. We need to respect, help, and honor those among them who are building nations based on law and democracy. We can forgive their debts, forget the past trespasses, help them earn their daily bread, and more, and walk with them in deliverance from evil. We can't just expect them to do it all alone because “it's the best system in the world!” any more than they should expect us to do it all for them. But we do have the advantages and the blessings of liberty more secure, and so we can risk more. We need to.
So we spent our time in that place in Lower Manhattan and prayed for answers. Then we headed home, back through the crowded streets filled with riches and no small amount of shadows. Among the thousands of towers that still stand, with new ones underway. Home through the International Airport, past the customs gate unloading the hopeful, the dreamers, the anxious. Home, to what lay next. Our prayers answered with the instruction to go out and remake the world, hoping for the best, with faith in our ability and in those who would join us. Faith in the brighter side of the human spirit.
Frodo: I wish none of this had ever happened…
Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world beside the will of evil….
--- Lord of the Rings, 2001
...to be continued...
Logan turned 13 this summer, our last baby, our last teenager, our only son. His whole life has been spent as an oppressed midget: He Who Has Been Most Denied (“you’re too young for that!”; “stop acting so silly!”). Yet he’s also the kid who lived the least during the years when we considered it a luxury to pay the utility bill on time. He has no memory of the days of 5 of us in a small apartment and few memories of one bathroom (all our homes seemed large to him). He is the Watcher, learning what he needs to know through observation of his older sisters’ battles with us, and as his parents have gotten better at parenting, he has gotten better, too, at maneuvering around the system. While we only grow older and more tired, he grows bigger and stronger, in the flesh and in his unbending will. He knows how to please and he knows how to finagle. Like one of the complicated PS2 games he is so fond of playing, life is filled with intricate detail and many calculations of varying worth. He gathers the tools, fights the ogres (that would be me), and gains strength. Kayleigh takes us on frontally, he battles us through disappointed looks, dragged feet, bitter prophecy (“I guess I’ll NEVER get to have fun!”), and just plain ignoring by remaining in his distant consciousness. But he also knows best how to please us, and for some reason, whatever the motivation, he does want to, so we’re grateful, and glad to part of his plan for world domination.
He is finally in the middle of a growth spurt, in a funny age where so many of those squeaky little boys of birthday parties past are still squeaky, while others have stretched into lanky baritones, galumphing and tripping around like big pups. The ridiculously endearing silliness of Mad Libs made him laugh his head off, which is a real pleasure to watch, but he is quickly becoming a fan of inane Conan O’Brien and the smarmy John Stewart. He’s also enjoying a big box full of my old MAD magazines from the 1970’s; obviously he’s become a huge fan of satire but how he finds a parody of Maude entertaining is beyond me. Knowing how much the middle school experience is lingering innocence, jitterbugging among the coarse and vulgar, while struggling with growing responsibility, it’s great to see he still gets so much joy out of things so ridiculously simple. It’s sad and worrisome to know what he is exposed to daily, but he seems to be holding out against incivility by being a decent, well liked character. His aptitude tests are near the top of the chart, but we keep trying to turn his B’s into more A’s by pushing him to organize and find all that homework mashed down at the bottom of his enormous backpack. Still no ideas about what he wants to do with his life other than survive high school, but we’re steering him into thinking about it.
surfing camp as well as our annual church camp (with Kayleigh). Our course, he went to Colorado with us and hiked to the top of the third highest peak in the state (ok—there was a road up to the top, so he only walked the last 400 yards, but it’s a start!). He and his sister also hiked enormous sand dunes in Death Valley and Great Sand Dunes Nat. Park. The best outdoor moment of the past few years was the long awaited day I finally took him fishing on the Trinity River. We hired a guide and caught a few little guys but Logan capped the day by hauling in, by himself, the only thing that even nibbled his line: a huge 10 pound, 25 inch steelhead. He was so worked up we had to pull him off before he ate it raw in the boat.
For those who don’t have children (and we‘ve known several great, effective, caring people who are not parents), or whose children have grown up, there is always some else we can affect with our spirit, even as we allow them to find their own way. Dealing with kids, people, and society -- the whole maddening bunch can make ya crazy. But, like Tom Hanks’ character in “Cast Away”, not dealing with them can make ya crazier. Still, you have to pull back when necessary and let them find their way, even when you are almost sure they are going to fall on their face. Grab the fishing pole and take some time out to test your faith. People, big and little, will pleasantly surprise you if they know you are rooting for them somewhere in the crowd.
