5 Years of Repair
At this time 5 years ago, I was rushing around in a panic preparing to propose to my girlfriend for life (what I called my current wife at the time). We had a flight booked for September 26th, which would whisk us away us to my favourite old haunt - the calming, inspirational and aura-drenched city of Amsterdam. As the day approached, I withstood waves of anxiety and excitement intermittently and carried on my day to day business with my feet barely touching the ground. I even bought a ring.
Then came that Tuesday morning. By the time I got to work at around 8:55 am, everyone was gathered around the nerve centre of my office at the time- the TV. Over the course of the next few hours, I stood with the others wide-mouthed as buildings fell, thousands died and the Pentagon was attacked. We were there, if only as impotent spectators. All planes headed to America were diverted- many of which were rerouted to Canadian airports. My colleagues and I scanned the azure skies as we smoked cigarettes and imagined planes dropping from out of the the blue all over our city, because clearly North America was under attack. Who knew how many would-be assassins were now going to take out whomever they could since their US targets were now unreachable?
Needless to say, I spent the next two weeks before our flight to Amsterdam in constant anxiety. Many people we knew were cancelling their flight plans. Musing with my friends about the philosophical similarities between getting married and going down in a fiery wreck did little to ease my heavy mind. However, despite our trepidation, in a small act of bravery, we got on that plane two weeks after 9-11. This all happened notwithstanding the fact that our carrier- Air Transat had experienced a complete loss of engine power and crash-landed one of their planes on a similar trans-Atlantic flight just before 9-11. Talk about stress: The emotional rollercoaster of getting engaged; mass panic about the possibility of further suicide attacks using commercial airliners; and flying a carrier that had experienced a recent extremely serious mid-air mishap. The sheer weight of what had transpired back in North America hung over our European trip on a daily basis. Though the actual proposition - with the aid of a great dinner, several strong Belgian brews in Brussels and a beautiful woman and partner- was picturesque.
We flew into New York City four months later. There we visited a dear Japanese friend, who worked close to the towers, who we had called numerous times on the day of the attacks to make sure she was safe. Obviously, she was. I recall the profoundly eerie calm we experienced walking slowly towards ground zero, as hawkers sold pictures and T-shirts bearing the fiery images of burning skyscrapers on the streets of lower Manhattan- just mere blocks from that gaping grave in the ground. Testimonials, prayers and pictures of loved ones plastered the long wall that lined the street from the church to where the towers once stood. As I watched from the side of the road, staring at workers still clearing tons of rubble, there were no politics, religion or hate on my mind. I felt like crying but I couldn't. It just seemed too insignificant to do so at that moment, while I stared something greater than I could comprehend in its ugly, anonymous face.
For months following, every time I emerged from the subway in the morning I half-expected the CN Tower, which unfailingly looms over Toronto's trees and buildings, to be cut in half or simply to not be there. Or at my desk, every time I heard sirens, there was that spector in my head saying "could this be our turn". These things still happen every so often. One might think that the survivors in New York, or anyone touched by the event around the world may forever be sentenced to fear and painful memories of the dark past. While my memories may not be as painful by degree as those of others, I believe one thing is certain: human souls repair themselves. If not completely here and now, then in a next life.
Then came that Tuesday morning. By the time I got to work at around 8:55 am, everyone was gathered around the nerve centre of my office at the time- the TV. Over the course of the next few hours, I stood with the others wide-mouthed as buildings fell, thousands died and the Pentagon was attacked. We were there, if only as impotent spectators. All planes headed to America were diverted- many of which were rerouted to Canadian airports. My colleagues and I scanned the azure skies as we smoked cigarettes and imagined planes dropping from out of the the blue all over our city, because clearly North America was under attack. Who knew how many would-be assassins were now going to take out whomever they could since their US targets were now unreachable?
Needless to say, I spent the next two weeks before our flight to Amsterdam in constant anxiety. Many people we knew were cancelling their flight plans. Musing with my friends about the philosophical similarities between getting married and going down in a fiery wreck did little to ease my heavy mind. However, despite our trepidation, in a small act of bravery, we got on that plane two weeks after 9-11. This all happened notwithstanding the fact that our carrier- Air Transat had experienced a complete loss of engine power and crash-landed one of their planes on a similar trans-Atlantic flight just before 9-11. Talk about stress: The emotional rollercoaster of getting engaged; mass panic about the possibility of further suicide attacks using commercial airliners; and flying a carrier that had experienced a recent extremely serious mid-air mishap. The sheer weight of what had transpired back in North America hung over our European trip on a daily basis. Though the actual proposition - with the aid of a great dinner, several strong Belgian brews in Brussels and a beautiful woman and partner- was picturesque.
We flew into New York City four months later. There we visited a dear Japanese friend, who worked close to the towers, who we had called numerous times on the day of the attacks to make sure she was safe. Obviously, she was. I recall the profoundly eerie calm we experienced walking slowly towards ground zero, as hawkers sold pictures and T-shirts bearing the fiery images of burning skyscrapers on the streets of lower Manhattan- just mere blocks from that gaping grave in the ground. Testimonials, prayers and pictures of loved ones plastered the long wall that lined the street from the church to where the towers once stood. As I watched from the side of the road, staring at workers still clearing tons of rubble, there were no politics, religion or hate on my mind. I felt like crying but I couldn't. It just seemed too insignificant to do so at that moment, while I stared something greater than I could comprehend in its ugly, anonymous face.
For months following, every time I emerged from the subway in the morning I half-expected the CN Tower, which unfailingly looms over Toronto's trees and buildings, to be cut in half or simply to not be there. Or at my desk, every time I heard sirens, there was that spector in my head saying "could this be our turn". These things still happen every so often. One might think that the survivors in New York, or anyone touched by the event around the world may forever be sentenced to fear and painful memories of the dark past. While my memories may not be as painful by degree as those of others, I believe one thing is certain: human souls repair themselves. If not completely here and now, then in a next life.
Labels: Philosophy, Urban Anecdotes, War
13 Comments:
I was at the Marriott at TS... just waking up from a serious drunk the night before. Flicked the TV on and thought I was still asleep having a nightmare. I had just lunched on 106 only the day before.
Fate is fricken weird... no doubt of that.
I'll always miss those towers in the skyline... they were ugly, but they said "Fuck-you, you ain't the boss of me" to the world in fine fashion.
Great post K-Dough. A month before that surreal incident, I figured I had conquered the world by scoring a lunch date in NYC with the head of marketing for USA Networks as one of their distinguished trade show contractors. Now it was all pathetically insignificant.
I often wish I could hang on to that feeling of humbleness in my daily activities, but like all people, I get caught up in the triviality of everydayness.
We're a strange breed.
I was at work that day, in a busy clinic. We had CBC on the piped-in radio, and I was so confused. A plane crashed into the WTC? How could that happen? It was very busy, with patients listening and everyone scared and sick. The prick Dr in the office got pissed and turned off speakers. It was so unreal.I think we all wanted to leave and pick up our kids and hide. You are right, K-Dough, about having faith. We could all hide and not fly, or take the subway, or go to events that are potential targets. I wouldn't want that life for me or my family. But I have to admit, when I'm boarding a plane or in a busy place, every now and again I wonder. Are we safe? No. But I'm not afraid.
Leather: But we need the trivial and everyday experiences to provide a sense of security. Without them, we would be faltering on the edge- staring into a void of nothingness.
There is no retail outlet, price tag or user guide for faith. You just have to have it. From wherever it springs and whatever its constitution, it is as essential to human existence as water and nourishment.
Pam- None of us are safe, regardless of which country we live in or what creed we follow. All we can rely on is the kindness of strangers, not to kill us.
Killing in the name of killing is futile.
This may sound a little cheesy, but one of the reasons I'm so enamoured of the arts, and still make music, is because I want to be a part of something that survives; something that transcends the everydayness. That feeling of the right brain being fully engaged is one of the few times I get a glimpse of some kind of overall purpose, or "meaning." It vanishes just as quickly.
Oh yeah, it's the wife's birthday today. Poor girl.
Leather- Awww- it's her b-day? Give her a big .....kiss for me won't ya?
Cheesy re: the arts? I think not. That, to me, is the sole underlying purpose of creation- it's a feeble attempt to escape the cruel limitations of "this mortal coil". Other than that music and expression is like meditation in motion for me.
By the way, I'm really into the Djembe right now. I am seriously considering taking the hand drum thing a bit further and hook up with ethnic players and do some group/live stuff.
Awesome K. Then you can be filed under "World music" and get the crap played out of you on CBC.
Seriously though, nothing more powerful than a multi piece percussion ensemble. Hits people on a visceral level.
Word.
I watched the 2nd plane hit and the towers collapse at home, on day 2 of an educational leave from work that I really needed because I was burnt out from too much biz travel.
My mother called in tears thanking me for being at home and that she actually knew where I was and that I was safe.
Took the day off work today and golfed in a tournament to raise funds for a condition so rare only 100 documented cases exist.
Was a good way to spend today, away from the melodramic emotional mush of the anniversary-o-thon.
faith and hope.
a friend had a meeting that early morning at the twin towers. he slept in. he never sleeps in. my cousin was at a meeting in a building across from the pentagon and watched in full colour as that plane crashed.
we had just sailed in from keats island after being amongst seals, eagles and otters....a friend told us when we docked. we were glued to the tv.
this year i went to physio, popped into a friends and almost said, 'happy 911' (don't ask me!!!), went for a walk, didn't do any 'serious reflection' on it. mind just couldn't go there and remain sane. just had to be amongst nature.
elder's meditation for yesterday:
"Listen to all the teachers in the woods. Watch the trees, the animals and all living things - you'll learn more from them than from books."
--Joe Coyhis, STOCKBRIDGE-MUNSEE
Nature is a living example of how communities live in harmony. If you go into the forest or mountain and sit still and watch, ask yourself, what lessons are being taught? Then watch how the animals conduct themselves. The trees could represent diversity. The flowers could represent people. Notice how everything in nature assists one another. See how balance works. See how conflict is handled. Can you see acts of forgiveness? Can you spot respect? Nature is full of wisdom if wee will only consider her to be our teacher.
My Creator, today let me learn from nature.
Scout- I like your message. Problem is that killing is also an integral part of nature. Although technology and our brains have evolved to the point where killing is a useless echo of our evolutionary past, we continue to find more complicated ways and reasons for doing it.
Peace dude.
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