I really wasn't planning on writing a 9/11 diary. Honestly, I feel like that I, having not lost a loved one in the attacks, not having been anywhere near the World Trade Center or the Pentagon - I would be on the verge of bloviating self-styled homilies in the face of people who endured real loss on that day. There's something larger here, though, and it bears some attention.
And here's the point, I think of the big picture with the perspective of having lived through history: Yogi Berra, linguistically challenged sage, once said, "When you come to a fork in the road take it."
I think life presents us with forks in our roads, and it's not necessarily between paths, but a choice of how we build out the path as we tread down it that matters. In short, Yogi was right. And 9/11 was truly a moment that brought us - as a society and individually - to one of those forks.
My life's lowest point coincided with this horrible moment in America's life. The morning of 9/11 I was unemployed, a victim of the .com implosion, recently seperated and on my way to divorce (after the tragic loss of triplets born far too soon, but not soon enough to be a miscarriage), recovering from the psychological scars of the abusive behavior of my soon to be ex-wife, still reeling from my grief, trying to figure out who I was, and - on top of the rest of it - trying to figure out what to do with alot of unpaid debt and even bounced checks (another result of her tragically bizarre behavior), and trying to fix my finances with unemployment checks. I was, frankly and understandably, a mess. I was, to continue the metaphor, in the midst of choosing my path down my own fork in the road.
I was living in Mystic, Connecticut - which is a very small town. Small enough that lots of local people knew what my wife had done, how she was, and - oddly - nobody had ever said anything to me about it.
I was, however, emerging from a cocoon of self-isolation. I had reconnected with old friends in the previous few months, friends who had shunned myself and my very publically abusive wife, because they couldn't stand her and how she was treating me. And so we come to my connection with 9/11's victims. I had been at a wedding that weekend with two good friends at the time, Bill and Lauren. There were lots of guests there I didn't know but briefly met there. Two of them a toddler and her mother, would be on the American Airlines flight from Boston that struck the twin towers that Tuesday morning.
The wedding party wasn't that huge, and I remember the fun this little girl was having in her elegant dress, playing with other kids, dancing around. I sang "Danny Boy," (I am a musician by hobby) to her grandmother. Her granddaughter was sitting on her lap at the time. She was an adorable little girl. A life cut short so very soon. That was on Sunday.
Tuesday morning, I was coming out of Rent-a-Center, where I had just made the last payment on my rented washing machine (which I now owned). And I was celebrating the moment. In fact, that was what my life was like at the time - lots of sundry victories that made me feel like I was righting a badly listing life onto an even keel. Getting rid of a badly conceived debt. Going on a date with a woman that interested me. Attending a wedding with my friends, and not having to fear public retribution for something I didn't see coming or didn't understand. Things like that. It was a time in my life to be quite self-involved, but - at least - for the right reasons.
And I got into my car. I was out errand running early, because I had a full day of job hunting ahead of me. I had dedicated myself to the premise that looking for a job is a full time job. I was determined not to be unemployed, but the state of the online industry was fighting me tooth and nail.
I had the radio on, and was listening to WCBS on in NYC - I'm from there and I always enjoy listening to local news from home - and it was just when they were beginning to cover the first strike on the Twin Towers.
And so it went. I spent the day riveted to CNN. I heard from my sister, who was working in New Jersey and was fine. She was worried about my mother, who worked in the Bronx. I was sure she was also fine. It turned out my mom was stuck in the longest traffic jam ever, when they closed the George Washington Bridge.
Somewhere before the towers actually came down the phone rang again. It was my crazy, estranged wife with a typical self-centered move. Where was Ken? I didn't even know who Ken was (although he turned out to be a guy she was cheating on me with). What should she do? He worked downtown. I asked where. She told me it was in the 20's somewhere in Chelsea. I told her not to worry - that's not where the world trade center was. Then she yelled at me - how typical - that I should care more. Seriously.
About 2 minutes after I hung up, the phone rang again. Caller ID said it was a 646 number, a NYC cellular phone prefix, with a very long last name that looked Sri Lankan. I picked up the phone and was greeted by the beeps that indicate a broken connection. Just as I was hanging up I looked at CNN and the first tower to collapse had just come down.
It occured to me - and I think about it to this day - who was that phone call from? Was that somebody in the World Trade Center who was making the last phone call of their life - and they got the wrong number? Was it somebody else who was just nervous, had the wrong number, and hung up?
I found about that poor little girl and her mother later that evening. That was when I met my friends at one of the only local bars that was open. A drink together was necessary - we needed to share some opinions and get a bit numb. Especially poor Bill. The happiest day of his life was immediately overshadowed by the worst day in the history of modern America.
One of the waitresses there was Indian - a Hindu Indian as indicated by the traditional markings on her forehead. One of the guys at the bar was an idiot, as indicated by him referring to her as a "towel head" and blaming her for the attacks. He would have been an idiot had she been a Muslim, but he was twice the asshat for being factually wrong, not just culturally a bigot. It scared her. We all walked her home after we helped close the bar.
There is one more: A few days later, I learned from a good friend of mine that had worked for me in 1998 (we worked together) had lost her fiance in the towers (he was an employee at Cantor Fitzgerald). I had lost track of her, and he gave me her e-mail address. His reasoning was that I had recently had a tragic loss, and perhaps I could help her deal with her grief.
I e-mailed her that day. We went back and forth for some time. How did I managed to get out of bed every day? What did I do when I found the grief was too overwhelming? What did I do when it seemed like a relatively good day, but then - all of the sudden - my grief would hit me in the middle of a conversation? How do you apologize to somebody who doesn't know you that your grief was too much to bear at just the moment you were talking to them, and assure them it wasn't their fault?
I'd like to think I helped her in some small way. After 6 months I never heard from her again. She later resurfaced as one of the women who was involved with Tiger Woods.
And so I come to the title of my post. I have thought about humanity, politics, and these four people a great deal this month. For all of us individually, for America as a country, for our political parties, indeed for the world - Yogi Berra's mistatement rings true: We came to a fork in the road and we took it.
I was in the middle of my fork on 9/11. My life is completely different now. I have wonderful, healthy children and I wife that I love and love me (although there are challenges). My career took off. I feel very complete. 9/11 brushed by me - more profoundly than other events, but brushed by me it did. It was not the cause of the fork in my road.
Although I have not spoken to my friend and former colleague, it seems pretty clear from the publicity around her that her fork in the road has led her down a difficult path. She was a bright young woman when I knew her, with her future ahead of her and an the beginning of an incredible media career, and producing radio news when tragedy struck. Her loss was one she could not recover from. She quit that job and that career, and made changes to her path at the fork - and we know the rest of that story.
She is judged quite a bit by people, but not by me. I knew her before her future was ripped from her. She was a lovely, smart, woman with a good heart. I have known loss as profound, and as wrong, and as devestating as she has. And just because my path was not a self-destructive one, who am I pass judgement on her?
In a sense, I feel George W. Bush kind of did the same thing. But he had no profound loss, so I feel no shame in judging him. He had a moment unpredecented in modern political history. That brief, shining opportunity when tragedy met resolve, and we all stood united in the face of it. And he ran with it in the right direction for about 5 political minutes before he completely and utterly blew it.
As President, he built his path (and therefore the country's), and - seemingly - melded self-interest into the face of adversity. Frankly, he did more damage to our country in the decision making that followed the invasion of Afghanistan (which I agreed with) than any other President has ever done. His legacy could have been one like Lincoln and Roosevelt, who saw us through trying times with resolute strength and unity of purpose.
No, not George. He brought us to financial ruin, and squandered all the good will of the immediate aftermath of immense tragedy. Insted of keeping us together, he hewed new ways to use the tragedy of terrorism to yank us apart. And divide us from our international allies. And destroy our prosperity. All this because 9/11 gave him the need to irresponsibly tilt at his own windmills.
But all of this is old news.
Now, I wonder, what will we be like on the 15th anniversary of 9/11, or the 20th? I will be older, grayer, and - one assumes - filled with wisdom I don't have now. And, I wonder, what will the 9/11 generation be like once they have arrived in the halls of power? If we are smarter, stronger and more open to differences - perhaps that will show the world that when we took our collective fork in the road, it turned out to be a right decision after all.