Learning to Walk

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The campus reopened the next morning, but everyone was obviously preoccupied with yesterday’s events. Upon investigation, it had been discovered that one of the attackers had flown into New York from Portland. The fact that he was under our very noses terrified people. During the cold war, things were different. We knew who the enemy was and the only thing we had to worry about was nuclear war. Now, we faced an enemy that seemed to be hiding in plain sight. They were nearly invisible, yet seemed to be everywhere. What was worse was the fact that they - whoever ‘they’ were also attempted to attack the Pentagon, as a small plane was flown into the side of the building. Coincidentally, another jet had crashed in western Pennsylvania and although there were no survivors, it had been determined that it had been hijacked and into turning back towards D.C. leading some to believe that the White House was the next target. I wondered how someone could get that close to us. How long had they been here? How long had they been watching and planning? And if they were under government surveillance, why weren’t they stopped? Everyone seemed to be affected for days. Different people expressed different emotions about it. Some were tearful and depressed while others became angry and vengeful. Personally, I didn’t quite know how to feel. Maybe I was trying to make some sense out of something that was clearly senseless. I guess I just wanted to know why.

The media, of course, did what they do best - take a story and drive it into the ground. Not that the events of yesterday didn’t deserve our fullest attention, but the rapid onset of media overkill was enough that some people just tuned out. They just wanted to forget and that was okay for them, but many people would not let it go. They wanted to do something. But what can you do in the wake of so much death and destruction? It seemed that the only thing people could do was to be there for each other. Naturally, the media had to report and over report the cleanup as well. Bodies could be seen being taken inside for identification. Occasionally, a cell phone would ring as someone tried to reach out in an attempt to locate a family member. Rescuers were ordered never to answer them, that families would be notified in an orderly respectful manner and as the names of the dead were listed over the next few days, it was found that a graduate of this university had been killed in the attack. This brought the events of nine eleven much closer to home and some students organized a small memorial service for them.

Everyone wanted to do something. Donations were made to a nine eleven fund that would go toward the victim’s families. Bake sales were held. Raffles and charity auctions also became common. But people wanted to do more and putting up a memorial website didn’t even come close. Of course, this marked the beginning of other problems. Once it was uncovered that an Arab terrorist group took responsibility for the attack on the World Trade Center, people began giving the Arabic community a second look. Obviously, we have better things to do than focus on the color of people’s skin when there are so many problems in the world. However, another side of this prejudice developed and people became vigilant, even if out of paranoia. In time, those with ties to terrorist groups would be apprehended. The existence of ‘sleeper cells’ would also be discovered. These were loose groups of people who had already been living here. Some had been here for years. They had jobs, families and were educated in American colleges. As it would turn out, they would be found as highly trained killers taught to blend seamlessly into our population and culture. On the fourth of July, they could be seen waving the American flag, but in secret, they were tinkering with electronics and mercury switches. They were drafting up plans for dirty bombs, studying maps of the country’s largest cities and acquiring architectural drawings of buildings they considered to be potential targets. The only thing they were waiting for were orders. Apparently, they had been planning this for quite some time.

Now, I found myself in a position where I wanted to do something. But in grad school, there wasn’t time to do anything outside of studying. Many lined up at recruiting offices and joined the military. It looked like the same kind of reaction that swept the country during World War Two. People suddenly became patriotic and it needed to seem to matter if they were fighting terrorists or Nazis. As far as everyone was concerned, they both fell into the same category - cowards. I found arrogance nauseating, but cowardice enraged me. I try to accept people for who they are, in spite of their flaws and imperfections, but there’s nothing worse than a coward, the asshole with a g*n who would use a woman or a child as a human shield. Now, there seems to be another kind of coward and this one goes by the word ‘terrorist’. And yes, it did cross my mind to enlist in the military.

Several weeks went by and it was getting close to midterms and no matter how much time I spent studying, it seemed like it just wasn’t enough. I was confident that I’d get through it, but secretly I was terrified. I suppose it was a bit comforting to know that more than a few of my fellow students felt the same way and like them, stopped watching the news and read the newspaper but only for the comics section. After September eleventh, it seemed like a little humor was in order. The media was still broadcasting footage of the attacks. I felt bad for the families of the victims, but the constant news coverage put me into media overload. We get it already. It happened and nothing would make it go away, but enough is enough! As if that wasn’t bad enough, there was a marketing frenzy of products designed to play on people’s grief. There were coins, collector’s plates, wall posters, T-shirts and a myriad of other items that were being pitched as ‘memorial products’, or ‘in remembrance of’. I found it incredible that companies run by human beings would stoop so low as to try to make a few bucks at the expense of so much pain and grief. One night, I became so angered by one of these commercials that I picked up a coffee mug and threw it at my television, shattering the screen. I'd had enough. It was time for me to get off my a*s and do something, and I was fairly certain what that would be.