This
being the 12th year since the horrific events of September 11, 2001,
I thought I would take a moment and write about things that have
changed personally, rather than globally. This is actually the 3rd
year I have posted the main body of this post describing the events
from my perspective. But since so very much has changed in ways I
never expected, I thought it might be interesting (well, to me at any
rate) to go over some of the particulars.
On
the day of September 11, 2001, I was married, to He Who Shall Not BeNamed. I was also still sighted and able to drive. I worked at
Verizon but played viola and violin and traveled all over the
Southeast of Florida. We had just bought 2 acres of prime land and
were putting a house on that land. My mother was still alive. I still
had all of my pets; Trotsky, Boots, Rusty and Eric. There was no
reason to believe that anything would change.
Then,
in May of 2002, my mother died. I had noticed shortly before her
death, that I was having a bit of a problem with swelling feet and
although I could see, my brain was registering 2 of everything, but
in typical Mary fashion, I ignored all of that. I settled her affairs
and came back to Tampa and thought that things would go as they
always had, but my husband had other ideas. He decided that he wanted
to “save” the world, I guess, so he quit his high-dollar job and
got a Bachelor of Science in Social Work and went back to working at
9.00 an hour jobs. Meanwhile, I noticed I was having trouble with my
breathing and I was going blind. The rest, they say is history.
I
cannot say if I had not gone through all of that if I would be the
person I am today. I know I am compassionate. I am also brave, and
tough as hell and honest. I had to go through all of that shit to get
here. Is it fair? Most certainly not; something I helped obtain is
not being shared with me, but it's only things we're talking about,
not values. I can say, that there is limitless love and compassion in
dealing with those less fortunate than I and that is beyond price.
I've also learned that we cannot allow ourselves to get caught up
into “situational ethics.” That is pure, unmitigated horseshit.
It's either right, or it's wrong.
“Requiem
in Time of War” by Ärvo Part is actually a very personal piece of
music, and was written in honor of Benjamin Britten. I've cited it many times, but will set it aside for now.
Although, the section I cite is so powerful, it is deeply personal,
and the tragedy that occurred on 9/11, was felt globally. I have many
Muslim friends who mourn this. What human would not? Any faith is
based on principles of doing right, and in any cosmology, it is
generally a given that the universe is infinite, therefore, we can
allow for infinite faiths, as long as we're not bashing each other
over the head about God.
Samuel
Barber, who was an American composer originally wrote a string
quartet, that contains the famous “Adagio for Strings.” It is
used in time of mourning, and for music nerds, has a most
interesting notation, not 4/4, but 8/8. It is heart-breaking and I
have played it many, many times. It never fails to move me, but it is
tragedy on a larger scale than that of Part's. The quartet itself was
written in 1936, but the Adagio is the most frequently played
movement, and generally with huge string orchestras.
Leonard Bernstein conducting; this is probably the best rendition and one of the finest performances I have ever heard. Naturally, I've played it countless times and adore this piece.
When
I first started this, I wasn’t sure I would post it, it seemed too
personal and maybe banal, but it is heartfelt and events of this
scope can make us remember again why we cherish life, love and each
other, even after all these years. Also, it had nothing to do with
homelessness. Well, maybe figuratively; if you think about it long
enough, maybe we are all rootless. I still feel the dystonia of that
event and as if I’ve lost my already somewhat tenuous anchor as a
citizen to this country. Maybe with all the events from September 11,
2001 until now, I just feel betrayed.
In
a way, this is a sort of re-post. I’ve left some of the original
material from last year’s post, “Untitled,” including some of
the events that occurred on September 11,2001, but have included some
new; too much has happened since then, in my life and in the world
around us. My writing style has changed somewhat as well, which is to
be expected, I guess.
“On
Tuesday, September 11, 2001 I was working at Verizon, in the
Southeast Region Tech Center, up around North Tampa. I worked in the
complex that houses the CERT (Computer Emergency Response Team) for
the entire southeast region. I was also just home from a quick junket
to teach a software application class developed in-house by Verizon
and our fabulous in-house Software Development department, or
whatever we called ourselves back in the day.
“By
2001, I had worn many hats at Verizon; platform support/network
support specialist (fancy babble for “reset idiots’ Unix, IBM
5250 and Win passwords,”) Lotus Notes support (which should have
been run on an OS/2 platform, hence the constant garble of WinNotes
Email, and effed up Data Bases) and managed to supervise 95 floor
technicians, who on any given day, were “hosting” giant “parties”
of “Doom” and hoping I wouldn’t hear/see their multi-player
raids. I caught them occasionally, but far be it from me to bitch and
report. They got a lash with a wet noodle, unless I was in-game on my
work computer, then they got ignored. Just kidding, but I am a Clan
Elder in Runescape. . . never mind.
“I
had kicked around in PC Support and Mainframe Support at Verizon and
IBM and was driving around the Southeast, playing gigs and fixing
customer’s computer bullshit from my hotel rooms at night. No
wonder my marriage collapsed. I had gotten bored and stale with Tech
Support and was offered a position in Development/Implementation.
Much more fun was to be had installing and teaching classes in our
software at various Verizon-type places for about a year before the
Trade Center attack.
“On
the Wednesday before the planes hit the World Trade Center, I had
flown over them at sunset, courtesy of Delta Airlines and Verizon. I
had just finished a 3 day teaching gig at the old Bell Labs up just
north of Boston, Massachusetts. I remember the Towers; clear, lambent
and vivid still. They were molten gold and bronze. Coppers and greens
glinted off the glass surfaces. The argent light made them appear
almost live and to move as we flew over them. They looked to be
so permanent and so monumental. I thought they would be there always.
I was given a gift from God that day. Beautiful and breathtaking they
were and of course later, heart-breaking. I was flying home to
Verizon to the Tech Data Center where I was based.
“The
following Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I was on driving to our Tech
Data Center to teach a teleconference via Communications Bridge. You
know, the “conference” call where twenty-five people all get on a
phone call and holler at one another for four-hour stints at once to
“learn” the newest, hottest application of bug patches from
Development. Some are playing rap in the background, some are eating
their lunches. Most are anywhere on their PCs but where I have asked
them to be, so they can “follow along” with the gibberish I’m
trying to impart.
“I
left my house in Central Tampa at about 20 minutes to 9 that morning.
It’s about 20 to 25 minutes from the Verizon Tech Center. As I was
motoring up Nebraska Avenue, I turned on 970 WFLA. I tended to listen
to talk radio when I drove, because I play so much music. The morning
show is good; local personalities. I avoid Rush, Glenn (shame on
Tampa for giving him a boost) but I love the morning folks.
“I
tuned in on the middle of an interview with some guy who was living
less than six blocks from the WTC. I just caught the end about the
plane hitting one tower. I thought, “Geeze, those poor towers.
Flown into again? Bad luck, yadda-yadda.” In truth, I can’t
remember specifics, but that was my general feeling. Then I heard
this huge roar and people screaming. The radio interviewer lost his
composure and the guy being interviewed was completely hysterical.
Then, the radio feed was lost. I knew we were under attack.
“My
speed went from 30 to 90 in less than two minutes. I ran red lights.
There were sirens, but I never saw police, never saw fire trucks. I
dodged other motorists, missing them I’m sure, by inches. I had to
get to Verizon and in my Center before they shut it down. I parked in
Visitor Parking and grabbed Wolf out of my back seat. It had taken me
about seven minutes from the time I heard the second tower impact
while on Nebraska Avenue to get to work in North Tampa. Wolf, or
rather his case, weighs a ton. I schlepped viola and self up the
drive and got to the walkway. The damn doors were closing. I took off
my heels and sprinted. Squeaked just into the main area and ran up to
the third floor, my lair. My cubby hole sat above all the Mainframes
and Communications hardware for the Southeast, that were housed on
the first and second floors. Wondered if we were a target.
“We
had huge plasma monitors covering two walls in a room that houses
about 150 people. This place was never quiet. I could always hear the
phones, people talking on Bridge calls, technicians asking questions,
laughing and brainstorming. The hardware guys would be lugging stuff
around, installing and un-installing stuff and adding to the din.
This center is a hub for all sorts of telecommunications support, not
just in the Continental U.S., but in Europe, Central America and
parts of the Pacific.
“It
was always a noisy mess, but I loved the noisy mess part of it, as
much as anything else in the job. The Center was funereal on that
day. No phones ringing, no conversations, no hardware being shunted
around. There were probably 80 or 90 people just standing, watching
the monitors. The Towers were still standing. No one spoke. No one
moved. I stood beside my boss, Kat Torres. An aside; Kat was the
first person I met at IBM. I went to Verizon about two years after
she left IBM for Verizon to work. Kat is my dear, dear friend. I am
god-mother to her daughter. She and I stood there silent, crying. I
have no idea how many hours we stood side by side. We left only to
try and contact our loved ones.
“The
class was never officially canceled. I rescheduled a new time for the
following Tuesday, but it would be almost a month before I gathered
my people for another one. There were seven people from Verizon on
the roof or roofs that day. I do not know the specifics, but I do
know that some of the lines and routers continued to emit
“handshakes” for a long time after that day. We could trace their
IP signatures via the mainframes. I am not a hardware person. My
expertise lies in software and networking, so I am unfamiliar with
why this would be so. I used to monitor the transmittals regularly
until they ceased. Why, I don’t know, but I felt compelled to see
them, to make sure they were there. Maybe I hoped that against all
reason, the people were still there. Most certainly I was mourning;
for all of us and dreading what I knew we were going to become.
For
us to go from that time to this and look back is probably no more
compelling than looking back at any great national tragedy. There are
still things that beg the question “why?” Since then and now, our
new marches into Folly, Iraq, and Afghanistan, that Graveyard of
Empires and countless other Geo-political messes, we’ve had the
so-called small disasters, the Aurora shootings, American Nazis
killing Sikhs and countless other hatreds. The casual and not so
casual cruelties, the fanatical hatred, vitriol, spite and venom that
we spew and use to cause destruction just baffles me. I can think of
no reason to justify any of this. Not political ideology, religion,
patrimony; none of it is justified.
This
is one of those days when I feel unable to state or sum up with any
clarity how it can be overcome. The only thing I can do, as my own
small confuse-a-what self, is to do what I’ve been doing. Go on my
way. Doing what I do. Sow my confusion, along with my bit of hope,
love, inspiration, caring and laughter.
