How to remember
September 11th, that was yesterday.
Today I read an account of the memorial in NYC that occurred yesterday in the rain, not at Ground Zero, but in a plaza some blocks away. I read that several hundred were there for the first hour and by the end of the ceremony there were... sixty people present. Sixty people, out of a city of millions.
At first, I was a bit appalled, to think that only sixty people found the need to commemorate the day at the ceremony. It seems that in our time, we are all having a hard time knowing how to respect sad days. Do we have a parade and wave our flags? Do we light candles? Do we read names? Do we listen to politicians' speeches, saying for the 500th time "we shall not forget" and "we'll never let this happen again"?
I don't know the answer and honestly don't have an opinion. I do know that we must remember. But we must remember like we remember the Holocaust, from a place of true respect for both the victims of the nightmare and the reasons why it happened. But how to do that?
I'm treading on thin ice here, but I'll admit, I get a weird feeling when those of us with no connection whatsoever to the World Trade Center, the Pentagon or the flight that went down in Pennsylvania discuss that horrible day. When those with no connections get all patriotic and relate it to September 11th, it starts to feel more like a badge of honor than an expression of shared grief. It feels trite. Someone I worked with at the time went to NYC with the Red Cross in the days after the attacks. She wrote, "Off to Ground Zero!" on our sign-in board like she was going on safari. I was glad she could go to render her services, but it felt like she was grandstanding more than grieving.
I can not imagine the awful-ness that day brought to the entire eastern seaboard, but especially places like Manhattan and DC and Boston... and I do want to remember and respect that day, but in a way that feels right and not just some simplistic flag-waving and yellow-ribbon wearing. I love my country, and I do fly my flag. I completely respect and admire people who are willing to leave their families and lives and fight under bad conditions. I know I couldn't do that. But September 11th itself doesn't mean the military to me.
That day can mean whatever you want it to mean for you, but for me, it means two huge buildings falling, it means a plane exploding in a field, it means terrified onlookers seeing a government building struck. It means trying to figure out what kind of story my favorite morning show was reading on the news and why they weren't being funny that day. It means arriving at work, sitting motionless with my coworkers trying to comprehend what was unfolding around us. Watching my most professional and intelligent colleague hold her head in her hands and sob. It means going to one of my patients' rooms just to watch the news with him. Witnessing one of my favorite doctors defend his Indian background to an insensitive coworker. Trying to explain for the 5th time to a patient with dementia that he was watching the news, not the Sci-Fi Channel.
I myself feel like an outsider looking in on someone else's horror. But there must be a way for all of us to be witnesses to this event, to acknowledge it for what it is and what it did to our country. There must be better words we can use. A word that means horror, sorrow, shock and disbelief. A word that means "offering support" when there is not a thing we can actually do. Something meaning respect, remembrance and honor for victims of senseless tragedy that has only brought more tragedy. I don't know what that word is, I don't know what kind of memorial there should be, I don't know what kind of ceremony. But I'd use the word, visit the memorial and attend the ceremony. Because I don't want to forget.
Today I read an account of the memorial in NYC that occurred yesterday in the rain, not at Ground Zero, but in a plaza some blocks away. I read that several hundred were there for the first hour and by the end of the ceremony there were... sixty people present. Sixty people, out of a city of millions.
At first, I was a bit appalled, to think that only sixty people found the need to commemorate the day at the ceremony. It seems that in our time, we are all having a hard time knowing how to respect sad days. Do we have a parade and wave our flags? Do we light candles? Do we read names? Do we listen to politicians' speeches, saying for the 500th time "we shall not forget" and "we'll never let this happen again"?
I don't know the answer and honestly don't have an opinion. I do know that we must remember. But we must remember like we remember the Holocaust, from a place of true respect for both the victims of the nightmare and the reasons why it happened. But how to do that?
I'm treading on thin ice here, but I'll admit, I get a weird feeling when those of us with no connection whatsoever to the World Trade Center, the Pentagon or the flight that went down in Pennsylvania discuss that horrible day. When those with no connections get all patriotic and relate it to September 11th, it starts to feel more like a badge of honor than an expression of shared grief. It feels trite. Someone I worked with at the time went to NYC with the Red Cross in the days after the attacks. She wrote, "Off to Ground Zero!" on our sign-in board like she was going on safari. I was glad she could go to render her services, but it felt like she was grandstanding more than grieving.
I can not imagine the awful-ness that day brought to the entire eastern seaboard, but especially places like Manhattan and DC and Boston... and I do want to remember and respect that day, but in a way that feels right and not just some simplistic flag-waving and yellow-ribbon wearing. I love my country, and I do fly my flag. I completely respect and admire people who are willing to leave their families and lives and fight under bad conditions. I know I couldn't do that. But September 11th itself doesn't mean the military to me.
That day can mean whatever you want it to mean for you, but for me, it means two huge buildings falling, it means a plane exploding in a field, it means terrified onlookers seeing a government building struck. It means trying to figure out what kind of story my favorite morning show was reading on the news and why they weren't being funny that day. It means arriving at work, sitting motionless with my coworkers trying to comprehend what was unfolding around us. Watching my most professional and intelligent colleague hold her head in her hands and sob. It means going to one of my patients' rooms just to watch the news with him. Witnessing one of my favorite doctors defend his Indian background to an insensitive coworker. Trying to explain for the 5th time to a patient with dementia that he was watching the news, not the Sci-Fi Channel.
I myself feel like an outsider looking in on someone else's horror. But there must be a way for all of us to be witnesses to this event, to acknowledge it for what it is and what it did to our country. There must be better words we can use. A word that means horror, sorrow, shock and disbelief. A word that means "offering support" when there is not a thing we can actually do. Something meaning respect, remembrance and honor for victims of senseless tragedy that has only brought more tragedy. I don't know what that word is, I don't know what kind of memorial there should be, I don't know what kind of ceremony. But I'd use the word, visit the memorial and attend the ceremony. Because I don't want to forget.
posted by Left Coast Sister at 12:43 PM
3 Comments:
I think you should come up with that word.
And that was a great post, by the way. Very well-written once again.
I agree. There's no doubt who's the smartest sister in this lot--and a fabulous writer to boot. Thanks for articulating some of the mixed emotions I have on Sept. 11.
Thank you for writing so well the feelings in my own heart this past week.
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