Guest Author Phil Webb - Ten years.
Ten years ago, whether we like it or not, whether we want to admit it or not, the world changed. My world changed. Whether we realize it or not, even our day to day existence changed. Ask anyone who has been to an airport in the last ten years. The way we look at the world changed, the way we look at our politicians and even our fellow man changed. We are more suspicious, less willing to grant the benefit of the doubt, more guarded, less open. We are 'Harder' somehow, and I am not entirely sure that is a bad thing. The things that remain seem somehow tinged. We wonder if our children's school will be the next Beslan, if our workplace will be the next Fort Hood. I would be dishonest if I said it didn't change how I view my own birthdate ( which happens to be September 11th) and I suspect that those who share this date with me feel somewhat the same, even if to greater or lesser degrees or in different ways.
However, some things are the same. We are citizens of the greatest nation in the history of the human experience. Some are inhabitants, rather than citizens, regardless of where they were born and the loss is theirs. We all have our day to day routines; jobs, schools, kids and in large part those remain. There is a balance to the world, nothing leaves that is not replaced; nothing bad happens that is not offset by good. Pain and suffering are intrusive constants; joy and happiness are readily available, if less obvious. I am unsure if this is by design or by the fiat of human nature, but it is as real as the waves that lift us, or the rocks and shoals we are broken upon. Ten years ago I was married with no children. My marriage did not survive, but today I have a delightfully wonderful daughter.
And yet, some things remain unchanged. Today is a miserable, record-breakingly hot day here in my hometown, so my daughter and I have sought refuge at an air conditioned indoor playground. Amid the gales of laughter and unbounded joyful experience that only a near five year old can know, she plays without worry, care or concern; believing that should the worst happen Daddy will be there to comfort, care for and protect her. Spinning in a mad crescendo of dance with a Cinderella doll nearly as tall as she is, scampering up ladders and sailing down slides, hopping back and forth across a "Bounce house" pretending to be a bunny rabbit or simply running and squealing at a pitch that is unique to little girls she is blissfully unaware. The observations I have, the worries I carry are not hers and with all that is within me I do my best to protect her from them. She need not worry about religions, governments and organizations that have "Madmen waiting".
In the days following the attacks on 11 September 2001, churches filled to bursting. As many as 94% of Americans said they prayed fervently, sincerely and frequently in the following days. Entire nations stood by us, nations that days before had been locked in debate of various issues dropped their differences with us and in that day said "We are all Americans". Long-time neighbors spoke to each other for the first time. There was a hushed feeling of deference and respect for those were lost and those who had suffered loss. Firemen, policemen and military personnel were instantly, and rightly, regarded as heroes. For once, the lines at blood banks were longer than lines at checkout counters. We all wondered what we could do to pitch in and help and many of us found ways to do so. Sacrifice was no longer a distant concept for others to endure, but an urgent and imminent necessity for each of us that we were willing, if not eager, to shoulder.
It is a sad commentary on humanity in general, and America in particular that (With apologies to Dickens) the worst of times are often the best of times. How shameful that a nation that can so quickly rise to the greatest heights of good fall to where we are now. We have failed ourselves in our choices of politicians and leaders, we have failed ourselves in our choices and acceptances of policies that are, at even the most cursory glance, wildly self-destructive both personally and collectively and yet we seem single-mindedly unconcerened; content to spout wild rhetoric and preach to the choir, often at the same time.
Unlike some, I do not see 12 September 2001 as some idyllic day in our history that I pine for, but I believe, hope for, and expect better than we have now. I look in the eyes of my daughter and I see hope and belief. As I sat in church this morning I looked in the eyes of those around me and saw faith. I look in the mirror and I see the responsible party. The quality of the world we live in, with its inevitable ups and downs, gains and losses, good and bad, is our responsibility to create and maintain. I suppose on days of personal significance it is normal, if not expected, to engage in some observation and introspection. Today means many things to me, on many levels. Some good, some bad, but many can only be judged by the lens they are viewed through.
My daughter just ran up and for no other reason than an abundance of joy in her heart, threw her arms around my neck, declared that she loves me, planted a kiss on my cheek and scampered off to engage in some new adventure on the playground.
I think I shall join her.