9/14/01
Hi everyone,
We are fine. Quite shaken up and upset a bit numb, but we are fine.
Yesterday evening we walked as close to the disaster as we could. The air
got very smoky and the police had cordoned off the area close to the WTC.
It's really shocking. Today they're shutting down Manhattan below 14th
Street. That means we're supposed to stay put. We can come and go, but only
because we're residents.
This is unreal. We're hunkering down at home, watching the news and petting
our cats. It's good to be alive and in one piece. It's such a danger to use
the television as the link to reality. It's so addictive and hard to turn
away from the constant emergent nature of its call. As much as it informs,
it distorts. Of course we hunger for the information and knowledge that it
provides so well. At the same time, it twists our minds by incessant
repetition of the same images--those most violent and horrifying images.
Along with the tremendous fear that is provoked by this situation is another
sense. The spirit of the people is awesome. There is support as everyone is
coming together to address the immediate needs of the crisis. How long this
will last, who knows? But as it moves on, it's significance can not be
overlooked. It shows us just how much we are together as a people. Sadly, it
is because we once again have a common enemy--even if we cannot identify
him.
Living in this war zone, such as it is, is far different than anything I
have ever encountered. There is relative peace here, now. The attack was
swift and over quickly. The ramifications will be ongoing for a long, long
time. Surely the rest of our lives will be marked by this event. Our
complacency was shattered ruthlessly. Lisa and I had made a trip to the top
of the WTC only this past May. We were having a New York Day. With some
nervousness, at both the height of the building and its history as a target
of terrorism, I went up to the top. We had a most enjoyable experience,
eating and having cocktails high above the harbor of New York. It was an
awesome place. From its vantage, I could see all of the city from Staten
Island to the Bronx. Below us, the Brooklyn bridge, once the highest
structure here, looked like a miniature model of itself, bold beautiful and
brick. The rivers wound around the island with boats so tiny that the people
on them were not visible. Cars, the size of a match head could be clearly
seen by the naked eye, their drivers and the pedestrians were mere dots on
the ground.
Now those towering megaliths are gone. Disappeared from the landscape in
seconds after their cores had melted from the intense heat. New York and
America--nay, the world--have forever been changed. There is a different
determination amongst the hawks. A greater camaraderie amongst the people of
prayer and peace. Those people who once held their spiritual practice in
private, are no longer ashamed to bring it into the public. Indeed, more and
more people have to join together to pray and meditate. Healing will be
long. Even our mayor has shined brightly amidst the gloom. He, himself, lost
many close people as the towers crumbled atop the rescuers. So many police
and fire people--hundreds--were crushed as they rushed to the aid of the
victims, becoming victims themselves. O, what a dark day it was.
Friends in Brooklyn watched the papers floating on the breeze across the
east river almost immediately. What a strange site. For me, the dust on the
ground, thick, yellow and gritty was a symbol of this destruction. The
acrid smell that has enveloped all of lower, sometimes even upper Manhattan,
all the way through the subway tunnels is a distinct odor not to be
forgotten. What other ways can we be assaulted. I fear to think.
Even the most peaceable of people have talked of revenge. The signs have
been posted complaining that action is coming too slowly. But I ask, who do
we take action against? We, who live in this great free country, do so
because we agree to certain procedures of law and justice. We dare not
violate the principles by which we stand in order to extract our revenge.
The anger of people who are inconvenienced by the disruption of subway
service, or of traffic problems astounds me. Have they so quickly lost sight
of what wrath has been visited upon so many? Or are they merely finding an
easy excuse to release the pent up rage and fear they cannot otherwise
access?
Oh yes, New Yorkers are an amazing people. I have so often been impressed by
these citizens here. When first I arrived, I was taken aback by how friendly
and outgoing the people here are. At the first sign of confusion, people
approach willing to help a lost traveler find their way or a burdened mother
carry her stroller up the subway steps. There is no question of reaching out
by people here. It is accepted as the way it is for all of us. Of course
there is equal and opposite antagonism. Violence here can erupt quickly and
inexplicably. When it does there's no telling who will be the perpetrator.
It could as easily be the cops as the criminals. But bear in mind that there
are some 13 million people every day on this small island and most of those
condensed into the smaller part of the island, so by proximity alone, there
is much chance for humanity to unveil itself in all its ways.
9/11 was the day everything changed. Strangely enough, at the same time,
everything remains the same. My heart breaks for those people who lost their
loved ones, for those souls ripped untimely from their bodies, and for those
injured so heinously. Those of us here lucky to be alive and in one piece
must reach out to those more directly impacted by this tragedy and help them
heal. Lisa and I are fortunate that as of this writing, we know of no one
missing in this tragedy. So many others were not so lucky.
We're going on. Today, activities are going to start to resemble the normal
lives we once led. Classes go on. Auditions go on. We go on. One of the
hardest things to deal with is the queer sensation of sitting at home eating
steak and drinking wine, while out our door people are dead and suffering,
rescuers are depleting every bit of their energy in an effort that can yield
so little good. The contrast between the life that moves on and the life
that was shattered is hard to grok. Yet, we must go on. We must continue to
laugh, to play, to work, to grieve, to contend with all we have to face in
the days to come.
I've never been at war. And this war is different than any war that came
before. This one is at home. This one is being waged by invisible forces
whose association with any nation are smoky wisps. And unlike other wars,
this one is fought in random attacks separated by years, just long enough
for us to let down our guard. We are the big bear hibernating no more. We
have been woken from our slumbers. But now the damage is done. We will grope
about for a while, and then, I fear, we will strike back with a terrible
force. Perhaps after this we can better understand what the victims of war
feel. For so long we have been sheltered by the oceans separating us from
the rest of the world.
Meanwhile we are safe. We are well. We are together.
Love,
Marc