The events of the morning of September 11 will forever be with me. You see, I saw the carnage first hand. I’ve told the story too many times to count, in print, on television, via e-mail and first hand. I told it in every awful detail. But yet another terror-stricken detailed eyewitness account is not important here in these pages. You’ve seen the news footage. You’ve probably seen it too often. What’s important now is perspective, something I have been negotiating with myself since September 11.
But to understand my point let me tell you the short version of the story. Here it is. I saw the World Trade Center up close from an Air Canada flight from Toronto at about 9 a.m. on that fateful morning minutes before landing at La Guardia airport. I spent the next three days in the small town of East Hampton absorbing the shock with the locals, listening to their stories and feeling their anguish. Then, with a band of stranded Canadians who were my travel companions that fateful day, we returned home by car, crossing the Rainbow Bridge at Buffalo at 3 a.m. the following Friday morning.
Here’s what I have learned about myself, about Canada and about the human race in the time since. They are simple truths.
This story is not over. Every time I think that it is and I start to heal, I hear yet another tale of terror. For example, Victoria, the property manager of my apartment dropped by a couple of weeks after I returned from New York. Victoria’s friend worked at the Pentagon. She and her unborn baby were killed in the attack.
In fact as the months go by this story will continue to unfold locally, nationally and globally. Steel yourself to that reality. The world has changed. We need to accept that and get on with our lives as best we can.
Since the attacks, I have been glued to the television and to the Internet. I marvel more than ever at technology and at instant communication because I have been able to learn more about the world in these few weeks than I ever learned in my four years at university. I know now who the Taliban are and what they have done to Afghanistan and its people. I know that George W. Bush is the right man, even if his politics don’t always match mine. I have learned to differentiate between a Muslim terrorist and an every day Muslim. The latter are warm God-loving people. They have children and can love and can be afraid. This tragedy is not their fault. Please don’t punish them for the deeds of extremists that fundamentally do not follow the good word of Islam.
We are lucky to have access to a wealth of information. Take advantage of it. When you feel the hate rising in you, educate yourself about the situation. The tools are at your disposal.
I am thankful for America. George W. Bush called Canada America’s “brother”. We are actually its little brother. Yes, we scrap like brothers. Yes, America is bigger and tougher than us. And yes sometimes we are bullied. Nevertheless, like a little brother we hurt when our bigger sibling is hurt. We need to reach out, soothe wounds and offer comfort. Cherish Americans. They are our brothers and sisters.
Canada is a wonderful place. Crossing the border into Canada warmed our spirits, though my co-horts and I were emotionally chilled from our experiences. Driving on the highway by my parents’ place on the way home to my apartment in the city filled my heart with thanks. Canada is a great place to call home.
Our technology-dependent culture is fragile.
In the first hours after the attacks, cellular phones would not always work. My Mastercard would not authenticate when making credit-card calls from America to Canada. The aviation system in North America usually gives me confidence that home is never further than a four-hour flight. That week I felt very far from home. The lesson I learned? Technology makes us feel safe. Our wits and our will keep us safe.
People are the same. While in East Hampton, NY, I went to a candlelight vigil at the local church. Jews, Christians, agnostics, atheists and others gathered together not as individuals with differences, but as humans with a common bond. One young man who works in mid-town New York I spoke to said: “I came with a sense of wanting to be with other people, to share in patriotism, humanism and a sense of spirituality.” Amen to that.
Miracles happen. On the ferry crossing Long Island Sound, I came across a numb fellow who worked as a bond broker. He had been in the building next door to the World Trade Center Tuesday morning. The conference window blew in. He escaped to the street and somehow found his stunned girlfriend outside her office building. They escaped the carnage together. The mayor of East Hampton saw the two towers collapse on TV. He turned to his wife and said “our daughter is in heaven now”. She worked on the 55th floor of one of the towers. As fate would have it, she went to her desk and dropped her purse; then went downstairs for a coffee. Then aircraft stuck the tower. She escaped unharmed.
Big business is not all bad. IBM was my sponsor in New York. They flew us Canadian journalists down for the day. When we became stranded, they found us a hotel, picked up all expenses, and made us feel secure. Then they got us home safely. Thank you, Big Blue.
Laughter is not a cure-all, but it helps. It was hard to have a sense of humour when the world around you is coming apart. It was hard to tell jokes during those fearful days. I learned more than I wanted to know about my fellow travellers. Being with people, even if they are familiar strangers, is a good thing. Laughter always brings people together and humour arrives at the strangest times. At one point a female colleague roused a fellow male traveller by knocking at his hotel door. I learned that an almost naked journalist is funny in almost any situation.
And I learned the value of some maternal wisdom. “Make sure you put on clean underwear” is not a mother’s nag. It’s darn good advice when you’re supposed to be in New York for a day and that day turns into four.
