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Now playing: Bette Midler - From a Distance
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It is September 10th 2008. My historical memories are seperated by what came before 9/11/2001 and after. Like no other time, the memory of what I was doing on that morning is so deeply burned into my consciousness, it is burnished on me now like the the physical scars that mark my body.
Memories,
Responsibilities pressing:
First class of the semester sophomore poetry at Carver Center for Arts and Technology in Towson. We had started the class in my usual fashion, making a little music. We were just digging into the reading for the day, the first a piece by Ginsburg,talking about the poet's body being vulnerable to all manner of things.
We all were startled by the interruption of the PA the announcement of the first plane crashing, I watched the students some cried, some went to the office in a panic worried about parents who might have been near the crash, some were not really bothered, said that the monolithic America probably brought it upon herself, with all her shady deeds in the world. I remember feeling like the breath was knocked out of me as I looked into these kids faces, and knew that life as we knew it would be altered forever by those men that took so many lives.
The drive home was endless, lines of cars filled with people who were going no where fast. I remember moving through that weird, extremely painful, disembodied sense of non reality, while being force fed a new vocabulary - I kept telling myself and anyone who would listen - it wasn't supposed to be like this.
Not after all we've been through as a country to gain and understand the value of independence and equality for all people and pursuing happiness. Granted we weren't quite where we needed to be yet,we'd made a lot of mistakes along the way, and there was still a lot to sort out as a culture but in the scheme of things - all this wasn't what I was thinking I'd grow old living with -
this celebrated new mediocrity
this President from the school of Running the Country for Dummies
this Dubya without a clue,
this thirst for war,
this new normal,
this hunt for Bin Ladin,
this extremist group Al Quiada,
this menacing jihad,
these roadside bombers
these suicidal sacrificial lambs,
this us and them,
this crew from Blackwater,
this innocent citizens targeted,
this acceptable civilian loss,
this grief bigger than most can bare,
this homeland security, this code orange -
this soldiers pulling down an effigy of Saddam Hussein in Baghdad,
this forgetting the first war for the glory of the second,
this wondering when Johnny will march home again,
this televising live the faces of their worst war dead,
this talk of insurgents, this talk of resolve,
this daily talk of resolve
this keeping war alive
this fighting terror,
this forgetting the needs of the nation's people
this loss of a truthful democracy,
this fabricating new things to fear.
Like I said I didn't think it would be like this, I was looking forward to the New Age of cultural and technological evolution, looking forward to learning some new ways to play out my role on this stage of American Dreams, but since September 11, 2001, vI've been feeling a sense atrophy. While looking for the best, I more often than I would like see the worst. I think people have become so much more self absorbed since the intensity of the threat of harm to nation and person has grown/groan...
I recently met a couple from New York who were visiting in my area. The guy said in absolute astonishment to me that "everyone around her speaks and they're so nice. Where we live no one wants to look at you. They just keep on going." I felt sad for him and hopeful - yes people in my neck of the woods are pretty outgoing and those closer to my age and older seem to have a bit of an awareness that transcends mediocrity so because of that, I'll still keep looking for the best in folks and praying.
There's so much sinking and swimming going on.
So much wishing and hoping - waiting to see -
holding breaths - picking up pieces -
trying to move forward- just holding on.
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