CityMama™

Remembering (with hope)

I wrote this post three years ago, and I've been reposting it on this day ever since. This year, for the first time since writing this post, I actually feel a glimmer, be it ever-so-tiny, of hope.

*****

For my girls in rememberance of Heather Ho.

On September 11, 2001, I was one month away from conceiving you, Bunny. My biggest priority at that time was creating our family because we had tried for almost a year to get pregnant with you. Who knew that during a time of such immense sorrow, when people everywhere retreated to the safe, warm cocoons of their homes, we would create you?

Up until that day, your father and I and everyone else in the world was living in a dream. When I say "dream" I don't mean that everyone's life was full of lollipops and rainbows and that there was no sadness and no one struggled. I say a dream because now, seven years after that day, the world is a very difference place. I'm sad about this. I might always be, a little bit. It's because I mourn what happened on that day, but I also mourn times past. The world wasn't always like this. Our lives, all of our lives, will never be the same again.

Something very bad happened on that day.

I'm not trying to scare you, my loves. I want you both to know that your father and I will try to shelter and protect you from evil, bad things for as long as we can. But soon you will be big, and you will begin to understand the world around you. We hope that you will look at it and always see the potential for good. Bunny and Wallie, it's up to you and those of your generation to forge ahead and try to mend this shattered world. Or least pick where we left off.

Our broken world wasn't always like this.

There was once a time when I could sit on a plane without furtively scanning the faces of everyone boarding, feeling nothing but shame for doing so.

In fact, there was a time when we never had to take off our shoes to get on a plane and we could take all manner of liquids and gels on board.  Also, pilots used to sometimes come out of the cockpits and walk up and down the aisles to stretch their legs. I used to love seeing them, and I especially loved when one of them was a woman.

There was once a time when I would be able to sit in a crowded theater and not think, "Look at all the people in here...together, in one place...  What if...?"

There was once a time when I could walk into my favorite restaurant and didn't have to watch the owners regarding me with sadness behind their eyes, wondering if I was one of those people that thought they were bad.

There was a time when I didn't have to be the first person to walk up to the woman wearing a hijab and abaya at Back-to-School night and give her a warm handshake and tickle her baby's toes (something I would have done anyway) to distract her from the rude stares and whispering.

There was a time when I didn't have images of big planes flying into big buildings and people holding hands falling from windows and distraught loved-ones clutching photos and pregnant widows etched into my memory forever. Who could even imagine such horror?

There was a time when I didn't have to think about what the last moments of a talented pastry chef who just moved to New York from San Francisco to work in a restaurant high in the sky must have been like.

There was a time when 2,700+ people from 90 countries were alive and well and their families and friends were whole.

There was time when I didn't worry so much.

That time ended seven years ago today.  That time—no matter how hard times were—was like a beautiful dream to me. And, girls, I so wish you could have known it.

For my girls in rememberance of Heather Ho.

On September 11, 2001, I was one month away from conceiving you, Bunny. My biggest priority at that time was creating our family because we had tried for almost a year to get pregnant with you. Who knew that during a time of such immense sorrow, when people everywhere retreated to the safe, warm cocoons of their homes, we would create you?

Up until that day, your father and I and everyone else in the world was living in a dream. When I say "dream" I don't mean that everyone's life was full of lollipops and rainbows and that there was no sadness and no one struggled. I say a dream because now, seven years after that day, the world is a very difference place. I'm sad about this. I might always be, a little bit. It's because I mourn what happened on that day, but I also mourn times past. The world wasn't always like this. Our lives, all of our lives, will never be the same again.

Something very bad happened on that day.

I'm not trying to scare you, my loves. I want you both to know that your father and I will try to shelter and protect you from evil, bad things for as long as we can. But soon you will be big, and you will begin to understand the world around you. We hope that you will look at it and always see the potential for good. Bunny and Wallie, it's up to you and those of your generation to forge ahead and try to mend this shattered world. Or least pick where we left off.

Our broken world wasn't always like this.

There was once a time when I could sit on a plane without furtively scanning the faces of everyone boarding, feeling nothing but shame for doing so.

In fact, there was a time when we never had to take off our shoes to get on a plane and we could take all manner of liquids and gels on board.  Also, pilots used to sometimes come out of the cockpits and walk up and down the aisles to stretch their legs. I used to love seeing them, and I especially loved when one of them was a woman.

There was once a time when I would be able to sit in a crowded theater and not think, "Look at all the people in here...together, in one place...  What if...?"

There was once a time when I could walk into my favorite restaurant and didn't have to watch the owners regarding me with sadness behind their eyes, wondering if I was one of those people that thought they were bad.

There was a time when I didn't have to be the first person to walk up to the woman wearing a hijab and abaya at Back-to-School night and give her a warm handshake and tickle her baby's toes (something I would have done anyway) to distract her from the rude stares and whispering.

There was a time when I didn't have images of big planes flying into big buildings and people holding hands falling from windows and distraught loved-ones clutching photos and pregnant widows etched into my memory forever. Who could even imagine such horror?

There was a time when I didn't have to think about what the last moments of a talented pastry chef who just moved to New York from San Francisco to work in a restaurant high in the sky must have been like.

There was a time when 2,700+ people from 90 countries were alive and well and their families and friends were whole.

There was time when I didn't worry so much.

That time ended seven years ago today.  That time—no matter how hard times were—was like a beautiful dream to me. And, girls, I so wish you could have known it.

Remembering, as always

This is what I wrote in remembrance of 9/11 last year. Though we are now six years away from the tragedy instead of five, the sentiment remains the same. Our world seems so broken right now. I don't how it will ever the same again.

Peace at any cost?

(Updated to add another video link, see below)

Or, at what cost?

Over the Christmas holidays, my brother enlightened me to the fact that people (let's just say "people") were posting videos of American soldiers getting killed in Iraq on YouTube and other places. And, not just that, but videos of suicide bombers blowing themselves up as the "highlight" of their martyr video. Is this the best that we as a people can do?

We have a friend that works at YouTube reviewing video footage and he says, quite matter-of-factly, that he doesn't have much faith in humanity after doing a job like that.

I don't know why I hadn't thought about the internet being used in this way before. I suppose if a beheading of a captured journalist or a cell phone video of Saddam Hussein's hanging can reach the entire world hours after it happened, then of course there would be much more terrible and extreme videos out there ready to be viewed. And on a daily basis, too. Most of the time I think advances in technology are a good thing. This is not one of those times.

Today, my brother sent me a link to a sniper picking off US soldiers.  I have not watched the the video and I warn you that if you click the link you are probably in for a very graphic experience.

I emailed my brother a one sentence response, "I can't watch that. I can't watch people dying."

He responded, "Just pretend it's a tv show. It's pretty intense. No wonder they don't show this stuff on the news.  What's interesting is all the 'jihad' production stuff that is cut in between frames.  Martyr stuff and the music...It's creepy because every time someone gets shot, there's a sneaky camera recording the scene.  US guys are totally vulnerable, it wouldn't surprise me if the casualty rate was 3x what is being reported."

My heart sank into my stomach.  I mean, there's being "anti-war" and then there is this.

I emailed back, "I can't because I try not to watch violent tv shows, too. I haven't watched it, but does the video clip you sent to me have that stuff in between the frames?  So someone gets shot and something celebratory is there?"

What kind of human being could celebrate killing another human being? Any human being?

"It's pretty eye opening stuff," Bro wrote. "You'll see a soldier take a bite of a candy bar and a split second later he is slumped over. It's not like the movies at all. The IED videos are unreal.  Yeah, they celebrate between clips. Really creepy stuff."

"Don't watch any more of that stuff." I implored. "It's not good for your soul. Once you have those images etched in your memory you can never return to time when they weren't there."

"Seeing this helps to put this ridiculous war into perspective," he countered.

It's a hard thing to admit, but I think he's right. If they showed this footage on the news, think of what a powerful anti-war message that would send. (Just as how televising deaths by lethal injection might change people's minds about capital punishment in this country.) How could anyone agree to send more troops to Iraq after seeing how vulnerable our soldiers are.

Remember Farenheit 9/11? That was a movie I was sure would galvanize people into action, and here we are four years later. Perhaps Michael Moore should add some footage of real soldiers being killed into his next movie.

George W. Bush is sending our brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, fathers, mother, daughters, and sons into hell. He knows it and yet he does it. How can he fucking sleep at night. I wish we could rewind his entire presidency and have a do-over.  I wish I had protested harder, spread the word more, I wish I had stopped strangers in the street and tried to convince them that this war was going to be a mistake of epic proportions.

While I can't watch the "recorded evidence" of someone purposely watching someone else being killed, I can't help but feel that these types of videos are the most powerful tool the anti-war movement has at its disposal. How agonizingly, soul-destroyingly sad is that?

Update: Today my brother sends this (to listen to)—"This doesn't have any violence (visible violence anyway) because the camera is with a marine unit that is taking cover from incoming fire.  As the fire comes closer, some of the guys really start to lose it.  This will give you a sense of how brave these guys are...You can hear one guy saying over and over..."Please Lord, let it pass..."

Let's end this war now before anyone else has to be that scared brave.

No words

Remembering all 2,996.

Remembering

For my girls in rememberance of Heather Ho.

On September 11, 2001, I was one month away from conceiving you, Bunny. My biggest priority at that time was creating our family because we had tried for almost a year to get pregnant with you. Who knew that during a time of such immense sorrow, when people everywhere retreated to the safe, warm cocoons of their homes, we would create you?

Up until that day, your father and I and everyone else in the world was living in a dream. When I say "dream" I don't mean that everyone's life was full of lollipops and rainbows and that there was no sadness and no one struggled. I say a dream because now, five years after that day, the world is a very difference place. I'm sad about this. I might always be, a little bit. It's because I mourn what happened on that day, but I also mourn times past. The world wasn't always like this. Our lives, all of our lives, will never be the same again.

Something very bad happened on that day.

I'm not trying to scare you, my loves. I want you both to know that your father and I will try to shelter and protect you from evil, bad things for as long as we can. But soon you will be big, and you will begin to understand the world around you. We hope that you will look at it and always see the potential for good. Bunny and Wallie, it's up to you and those of your generation to forge ahead and try to mend this shattered world. Or least pick where we left off.

Our broken world wasn't always like this.

There was once a time when I could sit on a plane without furtively scanning the faces of everyone boarding, feeling nothing but shame for doing so.

In fact, there was a time when we never had to take off our shoes to get on a plane and we could take all manner of liquids and gels on board.  Also, pilots used to sometimes come out of the cockpits and walk up and down the aisles to stretch their legs. I used to love seeing them, and I especially loved when one of them was a woman.

There was once a time when I would be able to sit in a crowded theater and not think, "Look at all the people in here...together, in one place...  What if...?"

There was once a time when I could walk into my favorite restaurant and didn't have to watch the owners regarding me with sadness behind their eyes, wondering if I was one of those people that thought they were bad.

There was a time when I didn't have to be the first person to walk up to the woman wearing a hijab and abaya at Back-to-School night and give her a warm handshake and tickle her baby's toes (something I would have done anyway) to distract her from the rude stares and whispering.

There was a time when I didn't have images of big planes flying into big buildings and people holding hands falling from windows and distraught loved-ones clutching photos and pregnant widows etched into my memory forever. Who could even imagine such horror?

There was a time when I didn't have to think about what the last moments of a talented pastry chef who just moved to New York from San Francisco to work in a restaurant high in the sky must have been like.

There was a time when 2,700+ people from 90 countries were alive and well and their families and friends were whole.

There was time when I didn't worry so much.

That time ended five years ago today.  That time—no matter how hard times were—was like a beautiful dream to me. And, girls, I so wish you could have known it.