Unsuppressing

So, on Monday, there was this overexploited anniversary that I got tired of hearing about by the Thursday prior. It's been five years since some people decided to take a truly nasty swipe at what they percieve is wrong with the world -- the US and it's capitalism. I did not realize how mixed my emotions were about that time and the anniversary of that moment until everytime they played yet another heart wrenching moment of "what life would be like if only my (insert personal relation/spouse/unknown parent) had not died that day" I began to cry. I am about to use this space to attempt some catharsis about that day, so feel free to ignore it or change the channel, or whatever you need to do.

To begin with, I watched, live, as both planes hit the WTC towers when I came into my everyday life of work. I was waiting for a coworker to arrive so we could get coffee. I honestly cannot remember if we ever got it. However, it was not going to be an everyday day, and for a long time afterwards it wasn't going to be normal.

After watching the towers get hit, and thinking how badly the air traffic controllers had f-ed up, I did not turn off theTV and instead watched as a reporter was giving an update from the Pentagon when there were muted explosions, not just on TV but in the real world as well. Soon, it was obvious that the Pentagon had been hit as well. Various reports claimed five to ten flights that were still flying but their locations were unknown. Speculation ran rampent as to what other targets were left to be attacked and how much chaos was going on in the city of DC.

Working on Capitol Hill I was both very close to an expected target, yet not really that near danger. I did not work in the Capitol Building, nor did I, at that time, go over there often. But, I still felt like I was a target, because I worked for the government. The response of my office left a lot to be desired, but that's a different rant that I have since dealt, and no one really knew if we should even leave the building. After sitting on pins and needles glued to the television reports of chaos, riots, and attacks in the subway, one alert staffer noticed that a line on the front desk phone that never rang before was ringing. It was settled by the Capitol Police, we were to get the f- out the building. What in my mind was hours of watching the news and trying in multiple calls to calm my mother down, who had awoken to the news that I might be under a terrorist attack, we were told that we were still at risk and we should leave. It was less then an hour, in reality.

As we evacuated, in a calm and orderly fashion, as we were one of the few offices that had not left yet, it was eeriely quiet on the street. However, there were still signs of an unaltered life out there. As were were walking to a coworker's apartment, a FedEx truck was making deliveries. The driver allowed the rolling rear door to slam shut with a bang, and that's when I realized just how damn scared I was. I thought it was an explosion and my heart stopped beating for a long moment.

Those of us who went to the coworkers house sat together trying to piece together what was being reported, what we could and could not do -- could not take the metro, could not make phone calls because all the circuits were busy, could only sit and watch and listen as the military jets scrambled over our heads. It was a time devoid of anything but a cold, clammy intensity sitting and the bottom of my stomach wishing someone could tell me what was really going on.

Eventually, I went home, where my friends slowly gathered bringing with them copious amounts of beer and alcohol. Some of us drank in front of the television slowly trying to figure out who knew what and what really was going on. Others had to get out and be active to shut out all of the emotions that were brewing in a weird and unknown way. I have no idea what all we talked about or how long we were there, but eventually, we made for the bar, a haven of normalcy in a time of the unknown.

Some went to the back to try to find a seat -- I don't remember if I was with them, but even if I wasn't I lived it through them -- and saw the Presidential helicopters fly by in their three formation -- a memory that would haunt them for a moment later as they returned to the back patio on a subsequent visit. Through the whole day, the question remained -- what if --.

As more unfolded, over the days and weeks following, I started feeling very lucky about where I was and that a few people were willing to take on terrorists to prevent anymore people from dieing. I truly doubt that I would have been in a building that would have been hit if all had gone by the terrorists plan, but it might have happened. That it didn't was a blessing from some people somewhere who never met me or anyone I worked with.

On a broader scale, I saw something that could have been great -- a bringing together of a nation -- that eventually turned to something uglier then I have seen before -- a devisive political environment where no policy can truly be good because there is no compromise or debate or thought -- and I am truly disheartened. We started a war in Afghanistan that is barely even mentioned in the news. The "bad guys," those that have become figureheads for a movement that masterminds, trains, and encourages attacks like those we have gone through are still out there, no longer pursued with all due diligence because we are focused on another part of the world that had nothing to do with what happened.

Instead, we are fighting so many different battles -- not just those that are being fought by the soliders -- around the world. We are trying to do so much with the rationalization that has something to do with those four planes and those thousands of peoples lives lost, and no of it will actually stop the river, instead, they're causing the damn to leak more and more. And more and more bloodshed, hatred, and ideology get born without a moment's thought to why.

Why do those people seek us out to hate and destroy? Why do we continue to allow them to win the hearts of potential allies by pandering to war instead of development? How is it that our foreign policy remains so much in the hands of those that would burn bridges to keep the enemy outside that it fails to realized that their are others on the other side of the bridge that may some day might wish to cross it? Not to mention we are simply finding only outside problems and solutions, when there are those inside who create just as much damage.

And then we have the exploitation of the grief, anger, pain, and horror as another anniversary roles through. We look back and try to determine what has and hasn't changed. Find that it is the appropriate time to trot out those that have lost persons most dear and listen without hearing their stories. Where are the people still working to fix what is still wrong for those people? Why is the sound byte and dramatic flag shot on a single day more imporatant than the needs of those still reeling from a world turned upside down? What do we do everyday to make those that lost whole -- at least as much as can be done? Why is it that the children who do not know thier fathers are more important a story then those children of the military men in Afghanistan who will not know their fathers?

The President called 9/11 the greatest threat our nation has faced, but a Professor just put that into perspective by pointing out that just over a hundred years ago, we fought a civil war that redefined people's rights and self that cost more American lives, money, and time then 9/11. And we're still dealing with the fall out from that.

I know that for myself, I have never really examined all the emotions that I experience in watching thousands of people die or thinking that it could just have easily been me as anyone of them. I know that I cannot yet confront the memories when the TV tells me to. I know that I still need something to help me get to that place. I don't know what that something is, but I am certain that CBS, ABC, or NBC cannot provide it, nor can an abandonment of reason to bloodlust, nor can acquiescence to a leader who chooses to expand the problem instead of finding a solution to the one at hand. Poltics, arguing, and pandering do not help or move us anywhere.

I don't know what does, but I hope that someday we can find out what can, together.