We were driving somewhere a few weeks ago and I noticed all the flags were at half-mast. I asked the Chief Lou about it because he works for the U.S. government, you see, and he should know about such things. They probably sent it to him in a memo.
"I don't know," he said. [This is where your tax dollars go, my American friends. They help feed my family and they are not wasted on memos explaining half-masted flags.]
I may be a socialist, but I know that when the flags are flown at half-mast, someone of national importance has died. I know it wasn't a former president, because the Chief Lou gets the day off to attend their funerals. So I wrack my brains trying to remember who has died recently.
"It is because of Phyllis Diller?" I ask.
"Um, yes. It's because of Phyllis Diller," says the Chief Lou, "Pretty much everything is because of Phyllis Diller." [I think he maybe is being sarcastic, but you never know with him. He's got an awesome deadpan and he's also a bit of a closet conspiracy theorist.]
"Oh wait! It's because of the astronaut guy!" I suddenly remember. "That makes more sense."
"The 'astronaut guy'?! Would that 'astronaut guy' be Neil Armstrong? The first man to walk on the moon?" [Obviously, his conspiracy theories do not include the one that posits the moon landing was a complete cock-up. He's not a complete nut-bag.]
I try to explain that I said "astronaut guy" because whenever I go to say Neil Armstrong's name, I am gripped by this rapid succession of doubts: Is it Neil Armstrong? Not Lance Armstrong? No. That's the bike guy. Neil Diamond? No? Why not? I even accentuated my argument with my best Neil Diamond impersonation, singing this song. I think it's perfectly understandable how all that could get garbled up in my melon, what with the patriotism and stuff.
I noticed today that the flags are at half-mast again. This time even I know why. I don't have much to say about it except this:
If we are going to remember, let's remember how for a few fleeting days we forgot that we were Democrats and Republicans, we forgot that we were men or women, gay or straight, light or dark, rich or poor, Neil Armstrong or Neil Diamond, and we stopped and mourned together. We watched horrified and dumbstruck, heartbroken and scared. For a few hours we forgot our differences and even if we sustained no personal loss, we stepped into the shoes of those who did. We understood what it was like to be a friend, a parent, a spouse, a lover, an employee, a boss, a child, a person and the terror of not knowing if your loved ones are all right. We held hands and we cried with strangers; we hugged our families and reached out to our neighbors. For a few short days, we were united. Will it take another national tragedy for us to do that again? Don't we still want to know that our loved ones are all right? Don't we still understand that other people have loved ones that need to be all right, too?
"I don't know," he said. [This is where your tax dollars go, my American friends. They help feed my family and they are not wasted on memos explaining half-masted flags.]
I may be a socialist, but I know that when the flags are flown at half-mast, someone of national importance has died. I know it wasn't a former president, because the Chief Lou gets the day off to attend their funerals. So I wrack my brains trying to remember who has died recently.
"It is because of Phyllis Diller?" I ask.
"Um, yes. It's because of Phyllis Diller," says the Chief Lou, "Pretty much everything is because of Phyllis Diller." [I think he maybe is being sarcastic, but you never know with him. He's got an awesome deadpan and he's also a bit of a closet conspiracy theorist.]
"Oh wait! It's because of the astronaut guy!" I suddenly remember. "That makes more sense."
"The 'astronaut guy'?! Would that 'astronaut guy' be Neil Armstrong? The first man to walk on the moon?" [Obviously, his conspiracy theories do not include the one that posits the moon landing was a complete cock-up. He's not a complete nut-bag.]
I try to explain that I said "astronaut guy" because whenever I go to say Neil Armstrong's name, I am gripped by this rapid succession of doubts: Is it Neil Armstrong? Not Lance Armstrong? No. That's the bike guy. Neil Diamond? No? Why not? I even accentuated my argument with my best Neil Diamond impersonation, singing this song. I think it's perfectly understandable how all that could get garbled up in my melon, what with the patriotism and stuff.
I noticed today that the flags are at half-mast again. This time even I know why. I don't have much to say about it except this:
If we are going to remember, let's remember how for a few fleeting days we forgot that we were Democrats and Republicans, we forgot that we were men or women, gay or straight, light or dark, rich or poor, Neil Armstrong or Neil Diamond, and we stopped and mourned together. We watched horrified and dumbstruck, heartbroken and scared. For a few hours we forgot our differences and even if we sustained no personal loss, we stepped into the shoes of those who did. We understood what it was like to be a friend, a parent, a spouse, a lover, an employee, a boss, a child, a person and the terror of not knowing if your loved ones are all right. We held hands and we cried with strangers; we hugged our families and reached out to our neighbors. For a few short days, we were united. Will it take another national tragedy for us to do that again? Don't we still want to know that our loved ones are all right? Don't we still understand that other people have loved ones that need to be all right, too?
Yes. Yes we do.
ReplyDeleteI hope so.
DeleteYes, yes we do, in Larissa's sweet words. And I recall that we were united for more than a few hours. We can do it again.
ReplyDeleteI believe we can, too, Judy.
DeleteIt's funny. I love what you have written here, but I wish I could remember feeling united. I remember feeling scared. I remember feeling heartbroken and terrified of what evil this tragedy would be used for. I wish I had the memory that so many have—that sweet, fleeting image of a united world. I just remember crying for lost lives and loves and waiting for the thunderous sound of the other shoe dropping. It came so quickly. I never have been so sad to be so right. Thank you for reminding me of what I somehow missed, that wonderful joining of hands.
ReplyDeleteIn all honesty, I had a speck of that, too. That waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I do recall the other stuff, too. If nothing else, the hope that this would startle us all to our senses.
DeleteImportant reminder. Could not be more timely.
ReplyDeleteSo true. I read this on my lunch break and thought of it the rest of the afternoon. We were united, and our first question was, "What can I do to help?" A little more of that kind of attitude would be very nice!
ReplyDeleteThis is perfect. I do remember feeling united. And scared. But my feelings are complex, because I feel our government used and manipulated those feelings to monger war. I remember Will Ferrell doing George Bush on SNL, saying "don't mess with Texas", and how cowboy politics for a moment passed as the emblem of patriotic pride. It was a confusing time. But I think that willingness to make war was driven by fear--not by the sense of unity, which can spawn peace.
ReplyDeleteYou might be interested in the book Drift: The Unmooring of American Military Power You might not. But I think you will be. It's not specifically about 9/11, but the way our country has been using war and how it's changed over the decades.
DeleteMargi, this book is on my list. At the rate I'm working through the list, it may be a decade before I get there. ;)
DeleteExcellent. First funny, thank you for that, and overall just perfectly stated. <3 Shared with all of my friends.
ReplyDeleteI remember that day, I remember the fear (even from over the pond) and I remember the feeling of uselessness that I could do so little from over here, once all relatives were accounted for!
ReplyDeleteThere was an image that stuck with me, but I can't remember where I saw it, of people in the aftermath covered in the dust and debris that made everyone look the same, united just as humans trying to survive and understand.
Only you could make me laugh and cry in one sweet post!
Again, you do this. Beautiful. And funny. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI love what you've done here. I'm a little with Tara, though, in that the images that come to me are a lot of fearful and angry ones even in the first days afterward--when there were Muslim Americans being targeted for hate crimes almost immediately. For some people "united" isn't "united" unless we're "united" against an "other." So sad.
ReplyDeleteThose images come to me, too. For the purposes of this piece and for my own peace, I have tried to peel that back to just that instinct a lot of us felt to grieve together, to be human together. Because of the subsequent mess (that we are still living with) it is hard to suss it all out. That moment in time lasted longer for some than it did for others, but I do believe it existed. I have to believe it existed.
Delete