10 years...

This is one of those days I never stop writing on... I've been doing it for ten years and it served both  as a catharsis, you know, just another drop in the Ocean of grief that was September 11, 2001... as much as an experiment on personal perception, on how my views about something so earth shattering could change in time, if possible based upon the turns of the world around it.

 Writing is something personal, and it is tainted or blessed by the imprint of the soul of the person who puts his or her thoughts on paper. Today I am sober, introspective; physical pain does that to you.  Perhaps if I were not going through a flareup, my musings might be a little brighter, cheerful even. That I'll never know. Whatever comes out, I can assure you this is the one day I rather not be cynical, or bitter, or try to be a smart ass.

Some  ten years ago I was sleeping late. I worked the graveyard shift in Capital One's Collections Department... (whenever we go to sleep in the East Coast, there are people in the West Coast that are coming home and deserve to be pestered with phone calls just like everybody else). Lee woke me up and I was not in my best mood. She told me a plane had crashed against one of the Twins and I answered "Oh Geez, poor plane, I mean those buildings can stand up to a 727" and she told me "I think is something bigger."

We sat in front of the TV and honestly I can't recall much on the whereabouts of the other people in my family. Instead of being one of those days everyone was just there, mom and dad were working and so was Lysania. Kenken at four years old was doing what she still does best- drawing - lost in a world of color and imagination, safe from it all by virtue of innocence. I remember Lee. My middle sister and I, we have never been too touchy feely, though we love each other dearly. I remember her hands, intertwined with mine and how we were both slightly trembling. Lee saw the second plane coming before the people who were covering the news noticed. i remember her nails digging in my arms as she pointed to the screen. She had barely screamed "another" when the man in the news echoed her. It was obvious then ans all I could say was "Mercy."

In a matter of minutes we had to internalize witnessing an event that was meant to change the world as we knew it and when KenKen asked why we were crying we were dismissive, after all what has a child to do with terror. Lee held her and told her "There was a big fire in New York." Kenken tilted her head, like most little kids do when they are trying to fit in something, it is almost comical, the tilt of the head and the meeting of the eyebrows... "but I love New York"- as if her statement could keep the city safe from harm. We all did baby, in fact the world entire were New Yorkers at the end of that crisp September day.

As names and possible culprits rose from the ashes, as heroes served and died in the blink of an eye, as the greatest strike to touch American soil since Pearl Harbor took shape, I remember being angry. Very angry. I've always been a fan girl of troops and though Osama bin Laden was not a household name to all I did remember the guy being linked to the USS Cole. We had a mastermind and a possible target in Afghanistan and I remember going to bed saying "Boy, they will soon enough change the topography of that fucking country." Some people might say, oh Lynnette that is not the Christian thing to do or say, but I've never been a hypocrite and nor will I rewrite what I said or felt in order to make it look better. If I am really a Christian then God is a witness to all. In His mercy he even cut of some slack for anger. As I prayed that night though, my initial word "mercy" stayed with me, soothed me, healed me, as I prayed for those that soon will be at risk on both sides: our troops and the innocents in the cross fire.

Ten years on and I will venture say the guys upstairs do not understand the scope of what it is to fight this type of war. Some people might say that being a secular government, we are not equipped to deal with religious ideology based violence. well, ten years ago I decided not to be left in the dark. I started with my Bible. I read it with the sole purpose to find the roots of the Arab bitterness. Guess what, I found none. Jewish scripture didn't shed much light either. In fact Ismaelites were quite loving of their brothers, the sons of Isaac, little rascal that he turned out to be and all. The next logical step would be to read the Koran, which I did- study guide and all- so no one can come and tell me about something I don't know. As I read the Bismillah, I cried, because Allah turned out to be merciful and compassionate and it really hit me how a few could turn something beautiful into a weapon of hate... Ten years on, we are to recognize it happens everywhere. The man who took it upon himself to execute the Norway massacre had, after all, a Bible among his possessions. Don't you dare to blame a book, nor a religion, let alone God for the actions of twisted minds. The sons and daughter of mercy shall prevail. Peace be with you, Shalom, as Salaam Alaykum, they all mean the same, you know.

Heroes. If anything that day, all who died, including those who were born in foreign soil, were considered American Martyrs and everyone who rose to the occasion was dubbed, without a second thought, an American hero. As my heart goes out to the first response workers, the fire fighters and the police that day, to the troops gone and hurt in the killing fields of Afghanistan and Iraq and through the world... it is flight 93 the one I rather write about today.

They didn't have to do it. They could have stayed placed in their seats, saying one last prayer, calling a loved one, asking why me... however these group of people, who comprised a random sample of America, took a stand that kept a bigger tragedy at bay. At that moment, they didn't stop to analyze in depth whether  to include God in a brief prayer offended the sensibilities of those around them, nor did they took count of how many Republicans/Democrats were on the flight or whether or not they could reach a deal that will bring over the other in their objective. When Todd Beamer pronounced that "Let's Roll" that has been sketched in America's psyche, he didn't stop to question Mark Bingham's sexual orientation or whether or not he deserved certain constitutional rights, nor did the other one refused... they were side by side being men of the same stature. Some people say that death is an automatic passage to exhalation in the eyes of the living, after all I've never met anyone who hasn't been "a wonderful person" upon being laid to rest. However, looking at how we are living our lives today and the petty fights and the dirty politics we all get stuck with; I'll dare say, without hesitation that we lost a sample of our best and our brightest on that flight. I wish we had more people who are willing to do what is needed instead of weighing their personal agendas. Mercy was with them that day, as it takes a lot of love and purpose to lay your life for the sake of another.

Where am I going? I don't know... maybe I just want to remind all this is not a day for politics. It is a day for all of us.

I'm watching my TV screen, getting glimpses of what will be the grand reveal of the memorial tomorrow and I just hope that eventually that place will fill with laughter and vendors and crazy people playing guitar and the occasional colorful and scary bum, you know, 'cause it's New York and the city wouldn't have it any other way. Ten years on, and we still live and learn. Ten years on we are justified, critizised, both the best and the worse country in the world depending on who is asking or who is answering.... and I glimpse at my TV and see bits of green where ashes once stood and man made falls where so many tears were shed, and names, representing lives, carved in what seems endless rows and I know there is something we owe them...

As I type, I'm feeling a lot better, which means the piece, which started gloomy will not be at all cohesive. It is expected for me to go revise what I have written and make it sensical, structured. Not today, not even a spell check I swear. This day has always been dinamic for me, you know the one day I toss it all out the window and ask myself, what can be done for others, how is it that we can manage to live our lives with one degree of separation from one another... ten years on, no one should stand on the sidelines. Get out, donate, give your time, educate your children the best way you can with aims of making them better than you ever were. Never forget, but do forgive and let's go forwards and fix those things we've found are wrong. I know we might be on a rut, but we can rise above it.

Tomorrow I might or not go to church, if I do, my sister Lee will be there and there is a chance that we might hold hands and laugh. And thank for mercy. It will be a wonderful day, I bet.