9/11 redux

So, here I am, adding my $.02 to the probably millions of posts out there regarding the big 9/11 10th anniversary.  Wanna know my take on this in one word?  Here it is: Gak.

Paul Krugman hit the nail painfully on the head when his 9/11 10th anniversary blog post noted the "shame" of politicians wrapping themselves in the debris of Ground Zero to aid their reelection bids, and earned a lot of disapprobation from readers, including one who interestingly said that it would have been appropriate to make the remark, just not on the actual "day."  To which I wonder, why?  Why should people fudge the truth on one day and tell it on another?  I do that. Certainly a famous Nobel Prize winner should be able to do the same.  I actually sent Krugman a keep-up-the-good-work email.  I almost never do that. 
This past weekend I had a good friend come to NYC for some practice and seminars.  As I said in my previous post, turnout sucked (it sucked last year, in mid-December, as well, so I very much doubt that the date had anything to do with anything, except as an additional excuse).  He hesitated a little, but I assured him that the date was not a problem, and it's not because I think that we should "move on" with our busy lives. 

Here's why it was not a problem for me:  NYers don't need special ceremonies to mark this terrible anniversary.  We have enough memories of the event to last those of us who lived here for the rest of our lives.  We all have our stories of where we were, what we were doing, and who we know who was directly affected, one way or another.  And there are eight million of us - that's a lot of stories.  As one person I spoke to at the time put it, "I didn't actually lose anyone there, but I have lived here all my life, so in a way, it was like I lost everybody."  I walked around for weeks with the same physical grief reaction I had when my mom died.  And for the record - it seems to me that only the commuters from New Jersey and upstate, along with newbies who just moved here, were actually scared.  The rest of us just handled it, like New Yorkers always do.

Last Sunday morning, I turned off the endless coverage and switched to "Pride of the Yankees" on TCM before heading off to practice.  I don't need reminders, and I don't need pundits and politicians trying to define the experience for the rest of the country who was Not There.  You Were Not There.  Get over it. 

Here's what I will never forget - going to work and seeing gaping holes in the towers.  Hearing from people standing on the steps at St. Pat's that they just saw one tower collapse, "like it was in a movie."  Sitting at a bar (my office building was evacuated) that had a pay phone, unable to reach my husband and watching the second tower go down on live tv.  The handful of people there, one of whom was furiously trying to email  on his PDA people he and others there knew from the downtown area to see if they were okay (and getting no answers).  A big one: wondering if my husband was alive or dead, and what I would do in case of the latter.  The long, determined trek home on foot with thousands of other people.  The smell that lasted for weeks and weeks.  The relief that my husband made it out of the area okay, contrasted with knowing that other people's husbands and wives did not.  Unplugging the phone at night to ward off curious relatives who, after ascertaining that we were okay, would call at all hours just to "find out what's going on."  My husband's bout with PTS that lasted for years.  I could go on, but the point, I think, is abundantly clear. 

Sunday morning, as I was going to practice on the subway, I saw a large number of firemen in their dress uniforms, many with their wives and children.  Firemen were, and are, part of the emotional backbone of the city.  Those that did not lose family members were barred from the big party downtown, but even if they did not lose "anybody" they did lose everybody.  And they set out to remember them on their own.  I was moved by their low-key response to the slight.  But I was not surprised.

I am hoping that after the big hoopla and the big opening of the big memorial downtown that people will allow New York to do what it has always done - take and absorb everything into the huge canvas that we are, neither forgetting nor grandstanding, but continuing to survive and go our own way.