Six years ago, the attacks on September 11, 2001 threw my emotions in a blender and hit frappé.
I was fortunate to have been one degree removed from losing a loved one that day but just as we all felt connected as Americans, I felt connected to all the victims. I felt obligated to ache for their families for months. No smiling, no laughing. No fun. Those privileges were violently stripped from so many people and suddenly I felt that every American was part of my own extended family and I would grieve accordingly. The nightmares of people jumping from the towers, of terrifying plane crashes from a passenger’s perspective, of planes heading for my window, of sickening ash and debris and body parts – those nightmares infected my sleep for too long, fading slowly until they finally ended a little less than two years ago. At least I hope they have ended completely. Yes, that sounds like terror to me but of course I felt other emotions as well.
Anger: Of course I was angry. I wanted to strike back but felt powerless. I thought about changing my career path and getting involved with the CIA or even the armed forces. Obviously I didn’t, but I committed to becoming a “better person,” one more deserving of the precious life I didn’t lose that day. Which brings me to…
Guilt: Those poor people and their families. Why was I so lucky to be spared? I was just a cynical shmoe on a bumbling, unintentional and purposeless path. I have so much to give but I wasn’t. I can do more. I can give my life meaning at the very least by being a more active participant in my existing relationships. Which brings me to…
Love: Everyone who was already important to me became absolutely precious. I was stranded on a business trip that day and all I wanted to do was be home with my loved ones. Ancillary figures in my life grew in meaning to me. Even complete strangers had my attention. We were all connected by the tragedies and where I used to feel indifference toward strangers and figured we probably wouldn’t like each other anyway, now we shared something in common. Which brings me to…
Respect: I remember walking up to a store about a month after the attacks and the door I was aiming at swung open and a woman exited through it. She let it fall closed and as I reached out to stop it, she lunged back, opened and held it for me and gave me a knowing nod. I stood still and looked right into her eyes and we shared a silent moment of respect for each other before I went through the door.
People were more courteous to one another on the roads as well. I remember noticing even on the freeways here in Southern California that people weren’t so self involved with their driving habits. I was cut off less frequently, and we all let each other in and out of lanes and yielded where we should.
Six years later, the anniversary of the attacks falls on a Tuesday for the first time. I expected an eerier feeling this morning than I felt.
What does Never Forget mean?
It seems like people are back to normal. Sure, some things have changed like airport security, civil liberties and political attitudes, but people? We seem to have lost our connection. I had hoped that “never forget” would mean more than hanging a flag and remembering victims and heroes on the date of the anniversary of the attacks. I wish that respectful togetherness would have been more lasting. We’re bickering and divided. Apathy, corruption, hate, intolerance and violence are back. Perhaps with a vengeance. Freeways or life, we’re driving like selfish pricks again.
I’m still committed to being a better person but obviously my cynicism is back. I still cherish my loved ones and I hope I show it enough. Maybe that’s what Never Forget means to me. In addition to remembering the victims, heroic action and the feelings of the time, never forget how precious this short life is and make the moments count. If not to the country, to the people important in my life. Never forget to respect the people around me, even the strangers. Remember that blind, ignorant acceptance is not respectful. Benefit of the doubt is only a starting point. Love, and think.
On a golf note
Golfers have an understanding similar to that connection I mentioned above. As golfers, we get paired up with strangers all the time and there is always a level of respect regardless of any differences that may exist. I have met some wonderful people on the golf course and have made some profound connections. I have met some misogynist pigs as well but we tolerate each other and get through the round. I am so glad I have golf in my life now.
I believe golf is great for one’s mental health. Six years ago, I was not a golfer. When the blender stopped, my psyche was more fragile than I care to admit (yet here I am blogging about it). Had I been a golfer back then, I’m not sure if I would have been able to play in the months following September 11, but I think it would have been great therapy. It is today, and I truly believe it is a stabilizing factor in my life now. Today, I remember. Tomorrow, I remember and play golf.
I can’t even beat Annika in my dreams!
I often dream about golf. Don’t we all?
Last night’s dream was exhilarating and frustrating at the same time. Apparently, I’m an underachiever when I’m sleeping.
The first part was imaginative and ambitious in that I was a good enough golfer to even be competing with Annika Sorenstam in the first place. I wasn’t a pro, but we were playing against each other in some kind of exhibition match.
We were down to the 18th hole and I had a real chance to win. Annika was already on the green (ha – I guess I outdrove her) so I needed to stick one close. My approach shot went long and ended up in a really tricky lie in a strange tuft of grass behind the green. I didn’t have any bunkers to deal with and I had plenty of green to use, but the lie was unpredictable. I needed to hole it out to secure a win or put it in tap-in distance and hope she missed her putt to push a tie-breaker. I ran it by about 15 feet. She missed her first putt and finished off with par. Now I had to make this putt to force the playoff.
Here’s where it gets psychologically interesting.
When I woke up I was terribly disappointed in myself for letting my mind concede and not winning. Go figure.
But thanks for the game, Annika.
Next post.