The headline is a phrase I’ve borrowed from journalist Pete
Hamill. On a recent Lehrer NewsHour, Hamill used it in referring to last
September’s attack on New York City. And it’s the most apt description I’ve
seen.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย I have
sought, over the past few weeks, some insight into the subject of emotional
pain: not the kind that oppresses people with mental illness, but the pain that
those of us a step removed from the World Trade Center, the Pentagon,
Shanksville, Pennsylvania, have experienced since September 11, 2001.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย At this
distance, on the eve of the one-year anniversary of that terrible day, there
has been the luxury of analysis, of putting things into context. And so the
people I have talked to have turned the subject immediately to, well, politics,
of one form or another.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย And
politics, surely, is important. There are many lessons to be learned from
September 11, and one of them is that we must understand why some people hate
this country. We must come to grips with the outrageous discrepancy between
what we say this nation stands for, and what, as a nation, we do in the world.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย And yet,
there is a need to grieve. A year is not nearly enough time to mourn the losses
of September 11. It is not enough time, certainly, for those who directly
suffered those losses. Nor is it enough time for those of us one step removed
from Manhattan, Arlington, and Shanksville.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย I had
thought that we who live in New York State might feel more connected to the
tragedies than people in some other parts of the country. But my sister, a
long-time resident of Atlanta, read every single word of every single one of
those wrenching portraits of the victims in the New York Times. For months. And she continued to weep.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย This week
many of us are reading the media tributes, and watching the television
programs. We still need to face the pain, as we did this week a year ago when
we watched, over and over, the videotapes of the planes flying into the
buildings, the people leaping to their deaths, the firefighters climbing the
stairs, the towers collapsing.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย We have watched, New York Times columnist Verlyn
Klinkenborg wrote last year, “because it feels as if we’re attesting to
history, denouncing a crime, renewing a commitment, and also because to break
off watching feels like a betrayal.”
The September 11
attacks generated a wave of national unity — and not just a united
hostility toward the attackers. There was an outpouring of concern for others.
Rescue workers and donations poured into Manhattan, far, far more than could be
used.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย We know now
that the instinctive response by New York City firefighters and police
officers, with too little coordination, contributed to the devastating loss of
life among those brave public servants.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย On the
NewsHour interview, Pete Hamill told of ironworkers who just showed up at
Ground Zero with their tools the night of September 11. “They had not been
called by any politician,” said Hamill. “They hadn’t been called by union
leaders. There was no plan certainly to say ‘and then the ironworkers’ — they
just showed up, and they said, ‘We cut steel. You’re going to need us.’ And
they went to work that night in the middle of a kind of 19th-century
darkness.'”
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย In the
aftermath of September 11, says a pastor friend of mine, the nation missed a
great opportunity. President Bush could have used Americans’ spirit of unity
and concern to lead us in addressing poverty and other critical national needs.
Instead, the president is intent on unifying us to attack Saddam Hussein.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Maybe the
fact that we still embrace the pain offers hope. Look at the memorial services
being held in this community on this one day: exhibits, worship services, a
candlelight vigil, acts of community service, participation in a worldwide
performance of Mozart’s Requiem.
These are tributes as unique and wrenching as the candles and flowers and
chalked inscriptions placed in countless locations in Manhattan in the days
following 9/11.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย They are
not war-mongering observances. They are events focused on the pain of the
victims, and on the pain of those of us one step removed from the attacks. They
are a testament that despite our short national attention span, we’re still
paying attention to the wound.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย “I think
we’re a better place already,” said Hamill, discussing the changes in New York
City and in New Yorkers, “because of this great wound.”
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย So,
perhaps, is the nation. But, Hamill added, “how we react to the wound is the
thing …that we’re going to be measured by 10 or 15 or 50 years from now.”
This article appears in Sep 11-17, 2002.
