Attacked

It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their absolute incoherence, their absurd want of meaning, their entire lack of style.
-- Oscar Wilde

Tuesday, September 11, 2001
One year ago: Early Sleep
Three years ago: Jet City Swingers

This group of entries starts here.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *    *

Jack's daughter H--- was getting up and ready for school. Jack got up to make sure she was moving (but she'd really been up since six). I turned on the radio: "a plane hit the pentagon." Good God! I staggered out to the living room and joined them at the television. Jack said, "This is bad, very bad."

What a horrible situation -- two planes at the world trade center! I'm familiar with the area around the Pentagon (I grew up in Arlington, Virginia), but my associations with New York are other journalers, and swing dance folks.

Jack, H---, and I watched the TV in shock, mostly not switching channels but staying with NBC. (We don't currently have a remote control for the TV.) H--- ran out the door in time to get her school bus.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *    *

We were glued to the TV most of the day, though I read email and Jack checked international news on the web. The beautiful weather seemed quite ironic. In the afternoon I felt restless, but I didn't want to leave Jack and go to my Capitol Hill place. Instead, I did some little tasks like my laundry, and mounting a holder for brooms, tools, and so on, by the basement steps. When H--- returned from school, she said they'd watched the news in most classes. The exceptions were math, and her aviation academy class. They couldn't get down to Boeing to work on their plane, since it was closed. The teacher said, "We've seen airplanes being used for evil today, so here's a positive story about flying." Then he put on a video of "Spirit of St. Louis" starring Jimmy Stewart.

Around four o'clock, Jack reported rumors of gas prices rising dramatically. "Does your car have a full tank? Better go fill it up." But the stations near me hadn't raised prices (yet?), and there weren't any long lines, so I was able to fill up with no problem. Jack cooked dinner, if rice and canned chili can be called cooking. I cut up some peaches that I bought at Sunday's Farmers market -- ripe and succulent.

Friends (fannish, online) have checked in. On my Gilbert and Sullivan mailing list (Savoynet) there were some riveting tales from list members who were close to the tragedies. H--- did lots of talking with her dad about the situation, which I think is very useful. He and I did lots of hugging, too. I only actually got tearful when I heard some folks telling their stories in a studio interview on NBC in the evening. Powerful stuff!

*     *     *     *     *     *     *    *

It's still difficult to grasp the scale of this. So many thousands dead! Jack feels that he needs to get information to be able to move on, thus he watched the news for a longer time. I think any way of dealing with this is legitimate and justified. No need to apologize for feeling paralyzed!

He's written a reaction that I'm including here as a Guest entry.