Where To Begin?
Last Tuesday the biggest terrorist attack in the history of the world occurred about 50 or so miles from my home. Like every other American, I was terrified and horrified. Like many people around the world, I was numb and in shock. As news came in of the Pentagon being attacked, I feared the worst -- that the entire Eastern Seaboard of the United States would be dotted with explosions, destruction, and death. This is the effect of terrorism; these terrorists were successful.
Eric and I decided we needed to go out as soon as possible and get food, as we didn’t have any in the house. I was terrified to take a shower, because I wasn’t sure if something would happen here, at my home, and I’d be in the shower. I kept thinking Eric would bang on the door and tell me to get out right away.
Before we left the house, a fax came in from Kim Schilling (who wrote Ferrets for Dummies) asking if we were OK because many people don’t realize that we’re not in NYC. I quickly jotted a note and faxed it back to her. I put on all the jewelry that I would want with me if I never got to go back home. This is how I was thinking and feeling. Then we went out to get money, food, gas -- whatever we needed. While driving along, westward, I kept scanning the sky for signs of more fires, explosions. I tried to stay calm and push the panic from me. But there remained a low smoldering that would not leave me for days.
We got our food and money and all that and returned home. There were a few phone calls from people -- friends -- asking if we were OK. There were e-mails from people asking if we were OK. We called friends and family to check on them. My brother Brady is a police officer in Montgomery County, Maryland. A SWAT officer. I was concerned about him being near to DC, being one of the people who would risk his own life to save someone else's. Fortunately, he is fine, which means the citizens around him are fine, too. Well, as fine as can be expected.
Later, we went out again to get water, in case the terrorists decided to poison the water supply (sounds a little extreme until you read the experts’ opinions about the possibility of biochemical warfare). We stopped at my parents’ house for a short time and then went back home. Later still, we went out to eat because sitting in front of the TV was too horrifying and we were too drained and keyed-up to cook. We went to a nearby Bennigan’s. It was all like a dream. When President Bush came on the TV, the usually noisy restaurant/bar became completely silent as we all listened. It was the kind of thing that happens in movies. I was personally stunned at how beautifully President Bush spoke. He was like a different person from the buffoon-like character we saw during the presidential campaign. His strength was somewhat comforting. It's something I never would have expected from him.
That night I barely slept. I didn’t feel safe in my own bed.
On Wednesday Eric and I watched TV in the morning to see what had happened overnight. Still stunned, we e-mailed people and fielded a few e-mails and phone calls from people who were checking to make sure we were OK. I still carried with me a sense of impending doom. I could not grasp the enormity of the situation, but I knew it was enormous; I knew the world was different and dangerous. I couldn’t stop thinking about how the terrorists didn’t care about their own lives; they were willing to die in order to take a bunch of Americans with them. The news reports continued: airports opened, then closed again; bomb threats at the Empire State Building and other buildings throughout New York City; people detained, arrested; gruesome details of the victims.
Because this horrific event caused the lockdown of all of NYC, there was no way to go from Long Island to anywhere else on the planet. The roads and bridges and airports and train stations were all closed. I felt like a target. Had the terrorists wanted to wreak havoc on Long Island, we would have had no escape. I was nauseous; I had a migraine (which would last several days -- and return again this week). I was overwhelmed by fear -- so much so that going into another room of the house by myself caused me unbearable anxiety. I watched TV and fretted. I felt my survival was threatened; which, indeed, it was (and continues to be).
Somewhere during the weekend, I began to move a little. Some emotional tingling began and I started to feel. But those feelings of sadness, of grief were interspersed with numbness. I think it was when channel 11 here (the WB affiliate) went back to regular programming on Saturday night, I began to grab hold of reality again. It was a tenuous hold; but there was something to reach for.
By Monday, of course, President Bush and Mayor Giuliani were urging us all to try to go back to a routine. Monday night saw David Letterman struggling with trying to get back to his routine, which is a routine for millions of Americans. But it wasn't Letterman who shook me; it was Dan Rather sobbing. My God, this man has seen so much and has been unflappable. He's done his job. But there we saw him sobbing. If he's so affected, we all are.
Here it is Wednesday. Eric and I are trying to concentrate on some work, though my concentration is very poor. It's all we can do, really. We hug the ferrets. We talk about what's going on. The war that's coming. The potential for the breakdown of the government in Pakistan. I study the careful wording that every political leader uses -- so much delicacy for such a brutal reality.
Like everyone else, I wish peace and comfort to all the families and friends and co-workers of the victims of this attack. I hope it is the last of its kind, but I know it is not.
