September 11th, 2001
IN HONOR OF SEPTEMBER 11, 2001:
A DAY THE EARTH WEPT FROM THE LOSS OF IT'S BRAVE CHILDREN.
Terror Hits Home Photo Essay (Ray Stubblebein/Reuters)
Numbness - Kat Dyer
Open letter to Witches, Druids and Magicians - Deborah Lipp
Samhain Poem for Sept 11th - Isha ArrowHawk
A Letter from the Pentagon - Name Withheld
Tolerance Please - Musyc
Spirit Phoenix Rising - DreamDancer
Mabon Letter - Kerr Cuhulain
Poem of Prayer - Calissta
Meagan's Tragedy - Kat Dyer
September 11, 2001: The opinion of someone that lived through it - Antigone
September 11, 2001 - Mystically
Dear Witches, Druids, and Magicians:
As Samhain approaches our thoughts turn to September 11, and what we can do to help. Many plan to ease the transition of the many souls struggling to find their way to the other side, and this is noble and honorable work. But there's another job to be done.
How have things been since 9/11? Setting aside the grief, the rage, the fear, "Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the show?" How has that part of life not directly related to terrorism or war actually been? Here's what I've seen:
Three plane accidents, unrelated to terrorism, in the 4 weeks since the attacks. One train wreck with fatalities, and one crazed killer on a bus, also unrelated. I can't think of any other one-month period that had so many tragedies. A single plane crash used to fill the news media for months on end, now they're coming too fast to follow.
A wave of colds and flu. Not unusual as the weather changes, but notable in massive absenteeism, and my doctor tells me he's had many patients relapsing and coming back for another visit. My first thought was that immune suppression is normal when people are upset, and undoubtedly that's a big part of it. Pet owners tell me that many of their pets are sick, and my kitty, already ill but managing, turned suddenly worse and died, although the vet couldn't say why. Crime is down as people treat one another with an outpouring of human kindness, but accidents and injuries of all kind seem to be way up. (I live in the New York area, things may or may not be worse here.)
What does any of this have to do with terrorism or with Samhain?
One of the principals of magical ritual is that creating a particular kind of energy attracts a particular kind of being (or Being). Prayer and sacrifice brings the gods. Invocation brings the elementals. In my 20-plus years of magical practice, I've also noticed that non-corporeal beings can also be summoned accidentally. For example, a house fire can attract Fire Elementals, so that small fires erupt for weeks thereafter.
On September 11, terrorists did more than attack New York and Washington. They made a blood sacrifice in the name of their deity, sacrificing their own lives and murdering thousands to achieve a "religious" goal of extreme evil. We know that physically, they achieved many of their goals -- the World Trade Center was destroyed. I believe that they succeeded magically as well.
This immense blood sacrifice, this outpouring of evil and death, has opened a gate, and negative energies have poured through that gate. Forces that you might call "demonic" have been drawn to us. They must be sent back!
On Samhain, CLOSE THE GATES. Show the energies of negativity and destruction OUT. They have overstayed their welcome, we don't want them! On Samhain, when the gates are meant to be opened, it's the perfect opportunity to complete the Samhain ritual by closing the door afterwards, first making sure that "The Outsiders," the beings of pain, anguish, terror and blood are absolutely clear that they MUST go through, back to the other side.
Brightest blessings for the New Year,
Deborah Lipp
Samhain Poem in honor of September 11th
By Isha ArrowHawk
Its raining here, the angels are crying,
While in NY thousands are dying.
It all seems like a surrealistic dream,
The explosions, fires and screams.
Trying to live, to their death many leapt,
Horrified onlookers watched and wept.
Hundreds of lifesavers answered the call,
Ready and willing to give their all.
They entered the maelstrom without thinking twice,
And many made the ultimate sacrifice.
Two hijacked planes made New York City shake,
How much more are we supposed to take?!
Why should we all have to live filled with fear.
Wondering, will the next ones crash here?
For those dead, gone to eternal sleep,
We bow our heads, mourn, and weep.
I'm an old-fashioned Patriot, I can still cry,
Every time I see Old Glory pass by.
A favorite song of mine through the years,
'Oh Say Can You See' still moves me to tears.
No matter what Deity you worship above,
Pray now!, for brotherhood and love.
Whether in the US, or along foreign shores,
Pray now!, for peace, not another war.
Let not the terrorists gain the upper hand,
Let freedom ring, and now take a stand.
Fighting a war has too great a cost,
Too many innocent lives are lost.
Let this be a lesson, all make a vow
Let there be peace, let violence stop now.
To quote a great song, I stand now and say,
'I love this land, God Bless The USA.'
A letter from the Pentagon
As you already know by now, all of us in the front office made it out safely after yesterday's attack. I wanted to relate to you something of what we all experienced, from a first-hand perspective.
At 0900, Admirals "G" and "L", all the Aides and EAs, and several AJAGs were in Admiral "G's" office for the weekly AJAG meeting. We were discussing several issues, when word came in that the World Trade Center had been attacked. We turned on the TV in the Admiral's office, and saw live the scene of horror as the second plane smashed into the South Tower.
Everyone in the room let out a collective gasp, and stared in momentary disbelief. After coming to grips with what we were watching, Admiral "G" quickly took control of the meeting. While leaving the TV on, we moved to the next issue for discussion. Several minutes later, with a warm DC sun shining through the windows of what we all considered was the unassailable fortress of our defense establishment, a deafening explosion sounded.
Just as we heard the loud crash, a shock wave ripped through the building, shaking the walls and jarring our bones where we sat. "We're under attack," and "We've been hit," were the first audible responses after a split second of stunned silence as our minds came to terms with what our bodies had just felt. What we were watching on TV in New York had just happened to us.
Sir, you have been in this building. The plane struck the OPPOSITE side from where our spaces are, and still we were battered around with tremendous force. That should give you an indication of the strength of the blast.
Immediately, the word spread through this massive complex to evacuate.
We all left the office, calm mostly because we were still in shock over what was happening. For the most part, the evacuation was orderly. But we heard shouts and screams, voices shouting "Oh my God!" and "Get the hell out! Out! Out!" Panic was spreading through some, many running in all directions through the corridors. One area of the building had lost power, was dark, and black with choking smoke. Word of the fires, and collapsing ceilings and bulkheads were carried throughout. Balls of flame and swarms of debris shot through rings E, D, and C at the affected area, tearing through bulkheads, people, and even the spirits of those anywhere in the building. Through the mass of bodies, pressing against each other from every direction, I found my Admiral up ahead. We had been separated by the sweeping current of blues, greens, and khakis. Fighting through the press, I reached him.
He was calm, and resolved.
As we headed down the ladder well from the 5th deck, he told me to make sure we had everyone out. We had. We finally made it outside, through the river entrance. Crossing the grass yard with thousands of others, we felt the warm sun and saw ahead of us the gleaming white of the Washington Monument across the Potomac. Turning around, I looked upon a war zone. Thousands were still pouring out of the building.
From our angle, it seemed half the building was throwing huge clouds of black smoke into the air, covering much of the sky. After staring at our burning building for a few minutes, it was really setting in that we had been attacked. My mind thought of the trip to Pearl Harbor a few short weeks ago, and our tour of the ARIZONA Memorial.
Was this what those sailors had felt on that day-the shock, confusion, surprise, and then horror at the slow realization that they had been attacked suddenly and without warning? I didn't know, but I imagined it must have been somewhat similar. The crowd assembled stared aghast...the shock was fast turning to anger, and a temporarily impotent desire for vengeance. Then soldiers and sailors were running past the throng, shouting for doctors, medics, and corpsmen. They had turned the North entrance by the POAC into a morgue, triage, and temporary care facility for the injured. There were many of them.
Shortly after the call for medical help went out, word spread that another plane was detected headed straight for the Pentagon. The ETA was 10 minutes. Just as the World Trade Center was hit twice, so were we to be, it seemed. We were too close to the building. Orders were passed to get even farther away. In a scene from a movie, literally thousands of Navy, Marine, Air Force, and Army officers and enlisted ran from the building grounds, hopping bushes and low walls, jumping down steps two and three at a time. Along the river the hill slopes down away from the Pentagon, and it was there, in that natural trench, that thousands threw themselves, hitting the dirt and laying down....taking cover from the imminent second attack. Just as some were screaming, "Why do we have no air cover!?" F-16 fighters out of Andrews AFB, their wings visibly packed with missiles, screamed overhead. They flew in circles over the Pentagon and the District, with word, we were told, to shoot down ANY airliner that came into the area, no matter how many were onboard. I looked up and thought, this indeed was war....Thousands of my fellow citizens were dead in New York, my headquarters was burning and collapsing in smoke and rubble before my eyes, and jet fighters were flying combat air cover over our capital for the first time in history. I myself saw two people collapse outside from apparent heart attacks as we took cover and awaited the imminent second attack. Thankfully, it never came.
Personally, I suspect that that plane that crashed outside of Pittsburgh was headed not for Camp David, as the press had speculated, but for us at the Pentagon.
Sirens from police cars, fire engines, and ambulances screamed everywhere. Helicopters, military and police, filled the sky overhead and deafened our ears. Busses packed with medical personnel brought in from Bethesda and Walter Reed skidded around armed barricades and raced to the center of the carnage. We ran into RADM "Q", the Pentagon spokesman, and he stuck with us for a while. He was as confused as the rest as to what was happening. Dozens of us surrounded a man who had a portable radio, thirsting for ANY news as to what was going on. A report came though, later contradicted, that the State Department and the Treasury had also been hit.
No one knew what was going to happen next, or when the attacks might end. We were gathered outside the Pentagon, watching it burn, still feeling the shock of the blast, and we felt impotent. No one knew what to do. We could only make sure others were safe, help those who were injured, and rage inwardly, pining for a deadly retribution. We had somehow survived a sneak attack while too many others working very close to us had paid with their lives. We would never be the same. Late last night, Admiral "G" called me at home. His message was simple. "Chris, we're going in tomorrow."
"Aye, Sir," I said. We sent the message to the rest of our troops. My apartment building is only a few blocks from the Pentagon, and I walk here to work everyday. This morning, at 0545, in the same uniform I had worn when we were attacked, I headed across the street to my office. Parts of the building were still burning, smoke billowing upward in the pre-dawn hour. Police, military and civilian were everywhere, letting no one near the building without a Pentagon pass.
But DOD workers, military and civilian, were heading in. We were sending a message...."You will not frighten us; you will not stop us, no matter what you do." Passing through security, I entered the south entrance of the building. Smoke and black soot were everywhere, a cloud choking me as I passed through. I walked through the NATO corridor, the end of which I could not see through the smoke. But I was not alone. Others were walking in alongside me, faces grim with determination. No one spoke, no one laughed. Only the echo of footsteps on the ash-covered floors could be heard throughout. Passing through SECDEF corridor, the smoke cleared. I could see through the windows into the inner courtyard, jokingly referred to as "Ground Zero." It was no longer a joke, but had become reality. I stopped in my tracks and stared. Fire engines were in the courtyard. Smoke was still pouring off the roof, and fires still burned on the opposite side. The grassy areas of the courtyard were being turned into makeshift morgues, body bags covering the lawns under the trees laid out in rows like at the national cemetery not far away. They weren't full, but were obviously ready for what the rescue crews would find in our building once the collapsed wreckage was cleared away. All along the walk to our office, corridors were covered in black ash and cordoned off with yellow police tape. But I am here in our spaces, as is the ENTIRE front office. We smell smoke, we have soot all around, and firemen are yelling at us to leave, but we are here for now. It is amazing that we have power in our part of the building. I want to please Sir, ask you to pass on my thanks for all my friends down there who called my home and left messages for me yesterday. I could not return all the calls, and the phone lines in the area are still jammed and not working properly. Please thank everyone for their concern and prayers. May God be with those who yesterday and today gave their lives in this, America's latest war.
Very respectfully,
[Name withheld] LT, JAGC, Aide & Flag Lieutenant
Spirit Phoenix Rising
By DreamDancer
It was the 11th of September, in the year 2001 by the calendar of the land. It was just another warm and sunny late summer day in the island city. The folk rose, as they always did, to start yet another day. The bakers baked, the heralds cried out the days news, the children ate their breakfasts, hugged their mothers, and trudged off to school.
And the guardian towers stood tall and proud above their heads.
Little did they know, no way could they sense, the demon dragons that eyed their shining city with hungry and hateful eyes. Just another day, and they just went about their lives as they always had, and figured that they always would. There's was a strong, powerful, seemingly eternal city.
And they knew, even if in the back of their minds, that the guardian towers stood tall and proud above their heads.
The demon dragons cared not for the lives and happiness of the people of the island . They hated the power they saw in this city , the wealth and prosperity which could be sought by those of will, the strength that projected forth from the shining buildings that stretched forth, reaching for the sky.
And, they hated the guardian towers, standing so tall and proud, seeming to watch over the live of the people of the great city.
A morning like any other, a pleasant day just to be alive, or so the people thought. No hint, no clue, not even a whisper of what was to come were they aware of until it was too late. The demon dragons did strike.
A shadow passing overhead caused the people eyes to seek the skies, but they did not know what it was they saw. With a mighty roar that shook the ground, the first of the dragons descended upon the island city, belly full of the innocents it had consumed to feed its hatred and make it strong. Fiery breath raging out, it struck at the guardian tower, struck a killing blow.
The people stared in awe at the explosion wrought by this dragon, not aware of what had come to pass. They had heard of dragons, true, but the dragons did not live in their bountiful land. They knew not what they saw.
Some fled in fear, some just stood and stared for they could not think in this tragedy of what to do, and some, heroes they hadn't known themselves to be rushed forth to help their fellows in need.
The demon dragons were not satisfied though, and the brother of the first came roaring in his anger down upon the island city, again a fiery scream of rage, and again a tower struck a telling blow. More death, more destruction to salve the dragons hatred.
And yet the guardian towers stood, injured and not so proud, but still standing tall above the peoples of the city.
And the warriors of the city sprang forth to do their duties, to protect and defend the lives of the city folk and their guest. Warriors who battled fire, warriors with shields upon their breasts, warrior men and women who would battle death itself for the people of their city.
Into the towers they raced, intent only to save the lives of their fellow beings. Thoughts not of themselves, but of others in need.
And below and inside of the towers they died, alongside those they had fought to save, for the dragonstrike was too powerful, too terrible to stand against.
And the guardian towers did fall to the ground, wounded too deeply to stand tall and proud, too deeply to stand any longer at all.
And still the dragons hatred knew no bounds. Far to the south, to the capitol of the great land of which the island city was a part they flew. Flew to the very heart of the nations dragon slayers, those who knew of demon dragons and could draw their swords and fight back.
Gorging themselves on more innocent lives to power their hateful flight, the dragons drew near.
Were there those who recognized a dragon in flight? Yes, I believe there were. One dragon, it may be, was fought to a standstill and brought to the ground. Ordinary people with extraordinary heroic might may have brought this demon down, yet his brother flew forth, death to the mighty citadel, the fortress in the star shape, the shape of protection over the land.
The folk of the island city, those of the capitol, the folk of all the land cried and they mourned. Happiness and laughter became strangers to this place.
Hopelessness, sorrow and fear cast a dark, blanketing shadow over the whole of the land.
The demon lord of the dragons sat back and smiled, satiated as he had never been before, gorged beyond measure on the despair he and his like brought forth this dark day. His kind, he knew, we're the strongest, deadliest, most righteous in the world, he and his demon dragon kin.
And yet, and yet, something just did not feel right, though he could not say why. had not the dragons struck deep, into the very hearts of their hated foe? Did not the foe tremble in despair? Did not the foe have their very spirit torn forcefully out?
And yet, and yet, this feeling did grow. What it could be, he was not yet to know.
Far across the world from the demon dragon lords nest, a cry, small and plaintive comes forth from the rubble. Rescuers dig frantically, finally breaking thru to the source. Laughter rings forth, tears of joy wash the dust from tired faces. The rescuers have found one of their own, a warrior thought to have fallen for good.
Unseen by all, a small spark ignites. Not yet another spark from the wreckage, but of a different sort.
The folk of the island city start to cast off their fears. Rushing forth they seek to lend a hand, whatever they can do, be it large or small, to those trapped in the rubble, those harmed by the towers fall. Folk of all colors, who came, or their ancestors did, from many different lands. Differences of politics or race, nor anything it seemed could bar them from this task. A Jew reaches his hand forth and helps a Muslim to his feet. A white banker man who some have called "stuffed shirt" lays his arm on the shoulders of the black lady in jeans, just holding her and letting her cry out her tears. A staunch union man takes one end of a beam, and together with an itinerant day laborer, lifts it high to free someone trapped below.
Too many similar sights for a mere man such as I to ever try to recall.
Folks respond to the call, from near and from far. From the cities attacked, from their neighboring towns, in fact, from all across the land their assistance does flow.
And thousands of tiny flames spark to life.
Fire fighting warriors raise their flag on it's pole, a picture of spirit seen round the world. Flags drape from buildings, from taxis and cars. Their nations flag starts to show, on houses, on clothing, flying on hilltops, and in the valleys below.
A million sparks, then two, they continue to grow.
A man in a church kneels down to pray. Joining him soon are his brothers and sisters, in churches and synagogues, in temples and mosques, in groves and in homes. Any place of the spirit the words and thoughts will pour forth. They speak these things differently, yet their thoughts course straight and true. Christians and Pagans, Muslims and Jews, any religion or belief, it matters not now.
Sparks keep igniting, the flames grow quite strong.
A small tea candle on a windowsill placed. Across the street, more candles shine forth, a family sharing this time on their porch. Down the road just a ways, right around the bend, a small group of strangers gathers together, candles burning in the night, seeking and giving comfort and support.
All thru the city, all thru the land, the candles shine forth, pushing back the darkness, bringing light, showing hope.
Across the the borders the candles flames flow, across the great oceans to far distant lands. The candles they know, are lit just for show, but the flames from inside themselves continue to grow.
A hundred million flames spark forth into life, many more it could be, too many to count. And then a most surprising thing happens, something felt but not seen. From the ashes, from the rubble, a pillar of flames comes forth, reaching to the heavens, spreading far, spreading wide. Like the legendary Phoenix this thing becomes real. From death and destruction comes life, from sadness and fear the flames of hope springs alive.
Fed by the the fires, both of candles and soul, the Phoenix of our Spirit spreads it wings above us, again tall and proud.
And it's wings spread the feeling, all over the land, for we finally remember, that United We Stand.
God/Goddess Bless America and the folks around the world who reached out their hands to us in this time of need.
My Brothers and Sisters:
By Kerr Cuhulain
I had originally planned to write a more humorous piece for Mabon. In light of what has happened, I have set that aside. I've had many e-mails in the past few days. Some have brought me joy, as I have learned that many Wiccan friends or ours in New York and Washington, DC, like Phyllis Curott, Air Force Major Tony Gatlin, Tuan,
Nymue, Patrick, David, Ron and Sucubus415 have survived. Some have brought great sadness as Wiccans tell us of friends and family members that have been lost. We've yet to hear from some of you.
Moriath, a Wiccan who was recently sworn in to the NYPD, has not been communicating with us Wiccan cops elsewhere in North America since the tragedy in New York, and we fear the worst. Our hearts go out to you all in this time of need.
Some of you are very angry right now. This is natural and this is good: It hardens our resolve. Let our anger motivate us, not blind us. Let us get it right and hold the real perpetrators to account, rather than striking out blindly at convenient scapegoats. Let's take great care and be sure we know who our real adversaries are. I keep thinking of the Oklahoma City bombing when many originally thought that the Arabs were behind it. Yes, there are people in some countries dancing in celebration in the streets right now. Yet I must tell you that some of my fellow police officers are Arabs and they are weeping. Let us not judge everyone by the thoughtless actions of a few. The Wiccan police officers among us know that the criminal element is small part of our world, but one that has profound effects on the majority. Some of you are sending out healing energy. This is good too, for many out there need it. Yet soon the warriors among us will be called upon to send out destructive energy for the greater good. We must be responsible warriors and strive for the balance between the two. We Pagans, of all people, should be trying to fix the world, not trash it. This is a great opportunity for the Wiccan community to demonstrate to the world by our actions that we are compassionate, supportive people and not the ogres that some zealots on the right make us out to be. Don't just light candles and send out healing energy: Mundane acts like donating blood, volunteer work or organizing fund drives to support the survivors speak louder than words. These are not insignificant acts: They add up to a greater good. They are not less heroic for being small acts: The greatest heroism is that which is done when no one is looking. Peace must be our ultimate objective. Yet we won't achieve it with a single air strike or the killing of a single person, even if he is a leader. It is going to take a sustained effort to turn the mess in the world out there around. We must all pull together. We must change ways of thinking. We must win hearts and minds. The US leaders are right. This is a war. It's going to be painful. It's going to take years. We must be strong and set the example.
Phoenix McFarland and I will be attending a charity ball in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, on 28 October: The Festival of the Huntress Moon. This will raise funds and collect food for survivors of the tragedies in New York as well as for Toys for Tots and the Greater Baton Rouge Food Bank. For details please visit their web site at <http://www.huntressmoon.20m.com/> Llewellyn author Kristin Madden will also be there.
For those of you in the New Orleans area, Phoenix and I will be at Esoterica in the French Quarter between 4 and 5:30 PM on 26 October. We hope that some of you will be able to drop by. We'd be happy to forward any donations that you'd like to make to charity.
Also, for those of you who have been patiently waiting, Llewellyn now tells me that my book, Full Contact Magick, will be out next spring.
Be Glorious!
Kerr Cuhulain
Meagan's Tragedy
By Kat Dyer
Meagan was sad. Many bad things had happened in her country. Many people from all over the world had been killed. She felt funny... it wasn't so much as she was afraid that she would be hurt herself... but that someone she knew would get hurt. Michael pulled down her baby blanket that had been put into her sentimental box. That helped some.
Meagan's family met with the Coven once a week all through September to help send healing energy to the world. Elizabeth told Meagan that there would be a separate children's circle at Samhain... they went out and bought a LOT of tissue... everyone was sad. The whole coven was trying to move on... and many people said that the Samhain ritual would help bring closure... but Meagan still felt funny.
She had helped to raise money for people hurt in the tragedy. She had helped collect food for lost pets and clothes for people who had to leave their homes. Meagan and her friend Cindy made T-shirts to wear that had a picture of the American flag with the words "Peace", "Justice" and "Unity" on them... they made barrettes and hair sticks... they made necklaces and bracelets... but Meagan still felt funny.
One day Cindy came over to visit. Meagan was sitting on the steps feeling lost. "Hey!" shouted Cindy, "Guess what I got from my Girl Scout troop leader?" Meagan looked up, "What is it?" Cindy waved a piece of paper and said, "It's an address we can send cards to..." and she handed Meagan a piece of paper that said:
"If your troop is interested in sending greeting cards to the firefighters in NYC who are still digging through the rubble, you can send them to:
NYC Fire Department
1 Chase Manhattan Plaza
New York, NY 10005"
"Cool!" said Meagan's brother Corwin as he came outside and read the paper over Meagan's shoulder. "I just got some new paper... if you'll let me copy down the address for my friends, I'll let you use some of it for cards." Corwin and the girls spent the rest of the afternoon making cards... they used pretty paper, fancy pens and stamps... they didn't use glitter because they had heard about some very sick people sending powdery stuff in the mail that sometimes made people ill. When they were done, Elizabeth gave them a ride down to the post office so they could mail them. They dropped off Cindy on the way home.
Later that night, the family lit another stick of incense and another candle for everyone in the world, that there be peace and healing. Soon Meagan was yawning and went up to bed... she snuggled in with Starweaver. She still felt scared... and sad... but every day she was feeling better and better...
As I hope the world is...
So Mote It Be
September 11, 2001: The opinion of someone that lived through it.
By Antigone
Writer's Notes: I wrote this several weeks after that tragic day. I don't know that it makes a whole lot of sense, but I thought I should say something after the get-well wishes I received. Thank you to everyone that did - it's nice to know that nobody is truly alone in this world.
I was there. It was like any other day. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
I was there visiting with friends. I used to work there. Then the lights and computers flickered on and off. The building seemed to shake.
A few minutes later we were told to stay where we were, for our own safety. Everything was under control. We would be informed of when we could peacefully exit the complex.
I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me to get the hell out of there as fast as I possibly could.
So I took off running. Men in uniform ran after me, threatening to put me under arrest. All I remember is that I didn't care, and kept running down the stairs. Eventually, I was running alone, and they had given up trying to stop me.
I got to the main entrance and ran out. And that's all that I can remember.
I'm told that I got out just in time because the tower came crashing down after literally seconds of my running out of the doors. I had a concussion after being hit by falling debris. I woke up a few days later in a hospital. My friends and family couldn't find me. I had no identification on me. My mother found me after going to a few different hospitals. Somehow, she knew that I was alive.
All of my friends died that day; Fifteen of them altogether.
I was supposed to go to a concert with 3 of them in February. Now I have 4 tickets to a concert that I can't bring myself to go to.
This country has its many perks. We have freedoms and luxuries that many people don't even have a clue about. And we take many of these things for granted. It's one of the many reasons why these tragic events took place. A friend and I have always claimed to hate this country. In many aspects, we both still do. We're all too preoccupied with ourselves than with things that matter. We care about appearance, we care what people think of us, we care what kind of house or car we have or how much money we make. For a few days, people remembered how important it is to spend time with loved ones, whether it is family or friends. Then all of a sudden, waving a flag in front of your house or in your car was supposed to show support and caring.
But it's all bull, isn't it? People are "proudly" waving flags around, but how many of these people know what it truly means to display an American flag? Where the hell were those flags before September 11th? Why didn't you cry and laugh and make love to your family and friends and partner before this all happened?
No, now we're back to our old selves. We go to work, we ignore our loved ones, and we revel in our luxuries. We don't have time for anything anymore.
But, we wave those damned flags around in honor of pride and support and remembrance. Like any of us is forgiven for being such poor excuses for human beings.
Does it make you feel better to donate money for the greater good? Do you feel guilt free after hanging a big American flag out of your car or front door?
I don't defend the bastards that killed my friends. I don't even try to understand why. But the sudden collective peace, love and happiness oozing out of people that really believe they are being genuine . THAT makes me ill.
God Bless America.
September 11, 2001
By Mystically
The morning of 9.11.2001 started off like any other day. I was exhausted from working the night before, but was on my way back to the hospital. My uncle and grandfather would be heading into Manhattan to meet with the Philippine Consulate, but other than that, nothing was out of the ordinary.
A little before 9 am, the phone rang at the hospital. I was in the middle of treating our patients and I figured it would be the doctor on the phone calling to make sure everything was running smoothly so far. Instead, it was the doctor's sister, asking if we'd heard about the plane that had crashed into one of the Twin Towers.
No, I hadn't. Without thinking, I even asked if anybody had been hurt. (Goes to show just how alert I was that early in the morning.) She replied "I imagine every passenger on that plane is dead, but no word yet on people in the building or on the ground."
I turned the radio on after I hung up the phone and listened to the coverage. People were speculating that the crash wasn't just a freak accident, but an act of terrorism. At that point, we knew absolutely nothing.
Then the second plane hit the other Tower. After that, there was no doubt in every reporter's minds that it had been an act of terrorism. The doctor still had her doubts; I hadn't begun to function just yet, so I had no opinion.
The person reporting the news on the radio was in the middle of dictating what was going on when she started to panic. She reported as she watched the first tower collapse. It was very obvious just how traumatized this woman was at witnessing this tragedy.
The hospital began to receive many phone calls. We were closed that day, but our answering service had ceased operations because they were located in the city and communications were disrupted. Cell phones as well as regular phone service stopped working.
Then I realized that my uncle and grandfather could possibly be stuck in the city. After a few frantic phone calls, I received word that they had been stuck in traffic when the planes hit and were forced to turn around to go back home. We were numb. We were speechless! How could this happen? This stuff doesn't happen in our country. So without realizing just how real it was, I went on to my usual routine at work, but I couldn't bring myself to turn off the radio either.
It hit me after 3 hours had passed, and I realized that many of my friends could very well had been in or around the vicinity of The World Trade Center.
I suffer from a panic disorder. I have major anxiety attacks. When I realized that several of my friends could be victims, I felt the stabbing pain in my chest as my heart began to race, and my breathing became labored.
Believe it or not, this wasn't a major attack for me. I think a part of me believed for sure that nobody could possibly be hurt from all of this.
As soon as I got home, I sent out emails and made phone calls. I had several messages on my answering machines from friends and family checking up on us to make sure that we were OK.
Throughout the day, many of those that I had tried to contact had checked in to assure me that they were OK. It wasn't until the next day that I realized that Antigone, a writer here and a close personal friend of mine, could have been there. That's when a panic attack became paralyzing.
I got a hold of her cousin, who happens to be my best friend. The tone of his voice said it all: they were also scared, because they hadn't heard from her and she hadn't returned to her apartment in SoHo in several days.
All we could do was sit tight and wait by the phone while her mother went out looking for her.
They finally found her recovering in the hospital with a concussion.
That was the closest I came to the WTC tragedy.
I live on Long Island. It's close enough to NYC to affect us but far enough away that we were sheltered from it. From the veterinary clinic that I work at, we could see the smoke coming from the towers.
I can only imagine what it was like for anybody that was there and lived through it. I can't possibly understand or know what it's like to have lived through it, and to be trying to move on from it. I can only offer my thoughts: a view of the tragedy from a distance. I can report what the general reaction of Long Islanders was and is. I can tell you about all of the flags hanging in front of people's houses and the flag stickers in most cars. It's the only thing that most people know how to do, even if they don't have a clue as to the true meaning of it. Some can donate money to help victims and their families, but many don't have the money to do it. Many no longer have jobs thanks to these events. We all feel the affects of 9.11 in one form or another, and I am sure that people in other states and countries feel it too. Emotions have been heightened because of this. Whether or not they are genuine is a different story, but the fact remains: we as a country need to figure out what's important and what's not. I, for one, realized that I need to figure out my priorities and reorganize my life, so that I can make more time available with Astartes, my love, and our friends (and cats!)
Please visit
the above site (wolfphotography.com), and see the beautiful graphics they have for sale. They
are beautiful, and it's a wonderful cause; rebuilding New York City and other
area ravaged by this exchange. For updates and information you can visit the September
11th fund site. Also check the Red
Cross and the Salvation Army,
to give aid. Please check the validity of organizations before sending
donations as there are those among us making money from our grief, and they will
find Karma is a bitch who knows no mercy. And that bitch of retribution
reaches generations!
Midnight Grey Wolfpup ~ Owner/Publisher of Cauldrons and Broomsticks