[A more clinical and objective view can be found
here.]
When I first walked into English class at St. John's University, it was a little before 9am. The professor was one Dr. Robert Forman. He was always entertaining, and there's something about him that tells you he cares that you learn something in his class.
The first person I saw was my classmate Tony. I said hello, and he asked, "Did you hear something about a plane running into the World Trade Center?"
And I laughed. All I could think is what idiot could have
missed noticing that there were two rather large buttersticks in the sky right in front of him?
I explained that to Tony. He agreed, and I gave it no thought at all for the rest of the 90-minute class.
I went from one class to another -- Christian Spirituality and Mysticism, 10:40am, taught by a priest whose name I can't recall right this moment. He was not only pleasant, but happy. He was also very Italian, and joked about it often.
When I arrived, the professor wasn't there, and someone came into class saying that classes were canceled.
Huh. That's odd.
I went to the nearest inter-university phone and called my father -- who was an Assistant Dean at SJU. I called, told him my class was cancelled, and how are you doing?
"Come to the office."
Ok ....
click.
Walking from one building to the other required that I cross from Marillac Hall, past Council and Newman Halls -- a narrow corridor outside that was as well directed as any sidewalk intersection without a traffic stop.
Ironically, it was afforded the best view of the Manhattan skyline that the University had to offer, without going into the university library --- SJU is, for the record, the highest point in Queens.
But, I didn't stop for a second. My pace was quick and even, mainly because there were so few people in my way -- for once.
Though there was one odd bit of business going on at the time, something I found odd even before I made it to my father's office: there were clusters of people with their cell phones out. After the third such group, I felt like I was in a scene from Alfred Hitchcock's
The Birds.
I walked into my father's office at the other side of the library, and before I could even open my mouth, my father said, "Planes have crashed into the Pentagon and the World Trade Center. The twin towers are gone, and the Pentagon is burning."
And I remember this quite clearly, because I had a little red notebook with me at the time ... my first thought was "Didn't Tom Clancy already write this novel?"
My father suggested I go to the library, and observe the skyline. by the time I got there, the library was locked. So I walked back to the terrace I had just gone over.
Instead of a skyline, there were ground based storm clouds running from south to north. I stood there for an unknown length of time, completely focused on it. I didn't even notice my acquaintance Andy walk up next to me.
"I can't wrap my mind around it," he said. "I can't believe they're gone."
If I replied to him, I don't remember.
Much of what I had from that day I have preserved in my little red notebook -- a habitual writer's thing, a notebook.
I thought that Fr. Andrew Greeley was writing a column right that moment ... and he was, one that focused on the calmness of New Yorkers evacuating into New Jersey.
I thought that I had to rewrite my thriller novels, because one of them was a CIA assassin, and at that moment, I knew what she was doing at that exact moment in history.
I also knew that Osama bin Laden was a dead man walking. One way or another, someone was going to hunt him down, and shoot him. Probably after he was hurt ... a lot.
On the way home, we had to drive around Union Turnpike, since the local park was a great site for emergency vehicles to assemble.
My family could only watch television that day because we had cable. We must have watched the towers fall a dozen times by the end of the day. There were theories that Camp David might be a target, because the Camp David accords had an anniversary that day, or soon. And there was supposedly a car bomb outside of the state department.
The initial estimated dead: 55,000. By 1pm, it had become 10,000.
At 6pm that evening, I was amused by a report.... four hours after the attacks in New York, parts of Kabul were burning. The Taliban were under attack. I wondered if (1) Mossad moved
really fast, or (2), the dissidents wanted to get on our good side. I would later learn that a leader of the Northern Alliance had been assassinated by the Taliban several days before, and that was their reprisal.
By that evening, there were 200 firemen missing, and 70 cops also MIA.
We had learned that there were people who jumped out of the towers rather than burn.
The next day, there was a pledge of support from Vladimir Putin. Thousands of pints of blood were on the way from Israel....
And at 7:36 am on the morning of September 12th, the news had a good image of the Empire State building, with smoke in the background...
There was also no looting ... because this is not Los Angeles. This is New York, where even the criminals were nice enough (or smart enough) to stay home. There was a seven hour wait to give blood, until there were only those who were turned away.
We had shocking news: The NY Times said something nice about "the nazi," Mayor Rudy Guiliani, calling him Churchill in a baseball cap.
NY Governor Pataki had come down. He thanked a fireman in critical condition for his service, and the fireman said, "Well, what to you expect?"
And by night, there were so many who showed up with lit candles, the city looked like it was on fire.
By January 20, 2002, we had a count around 2,900 dead.
Ann Coulter made a statement that many were pissed off about: "We should invade their countries, kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity."
A quote which could be offensive if not for two things .... one: if you ever get a chance
to read that article, you will notice that it was about mostly about a friend of hers, Barbara Olsen .... she was on a plane that flew into the Pentagon. So, she was annoyed.
When asked about it later, she told Fox news democrat Alan Colmes "We better convert them to something, even if it's what you call 'real Islam.' "
Which, frankly, converting the 10% of the muslim world that hate us (about 120 million, give or take) to something other than a sharia-variant would be a good idea.
My feelings about it were simple, and summed up by a quote from the tv show West Wing:
“We need to kill them, we need to find them and to kill them. We kill them. Then we find out who sent them and we kill them too. You kill the people who did it. You kill the people who planned it. Then you kill everyone who is happy about it….
I think at the end of the day, more people would rather have Ann Coulter's solution of converting people who want to kill us, even if it's to generic, Atlantic-avenue Islam, would be a better idea than my general feelings on the matter.
But, frankly, I don't think it's a matter of religion. Americans have protests and near riots over any civilian caught in a war zone. Instead, there were people who were having parties over 9-11; if someone feels happy about killing civilians, there is something wrong with that person as a human being. That person is about the same level as the average serial killer.
But, that was ten years ago .....
****
It's ten years later.
The cops and firemen who were there are being locked out of any 9/11 memorial.
They've locked out any and all priests from even showing up.
The cross forged from I-beams of the tower are being threatened by atheists with nothing better to do.
The unions who showed up in force to clear the rubble of the towers have started to
turn it into a political freakshow.
Rye play land in New York has a "Muslim Day," and it turns into a riot because they banned all headgear from roller coasters. This includes a a hijab -- something about not wanting the woman strangled or decapitated.
There are no replacement buildings yet.
And, damnit, I want
a WTC with a missile battery.
Everyone likes to say never forget.
I hope this has made some people remember.
.
On the same sense of humor: we each started talking about one book that had come out – a 
novel called 
. My family had gotten the book before her local library had, and she said, “No spoilers.”
, 
, and try to write Jim Butcher's next few books for him. We had similar jokes on sex scenes in novels Рand even considered doing a similar twist on the clich̩ for a later novel: an idea we had developed independent of each other.
After two years of back and forth, we met in person at an aquarium. Nothing overdramatic, but it was pleasant. We talked of comic book characters, and sharks and Peter Benchley. When we tried footnoting the real life story Benchley stole 
from, we both knew it was 1916, in the New York area, but we disagreed on the shark type and the exact location. Then we found a plaque dedicated to Jaws, and discovered that I was right about the shark, she was right about the location. 
once or twice. Like I said before, I like their music for fight scenes. I'm not sure I understand what their songs are about.
. This is the main villain's theme from Final Fantasy 7. I've never played the game, but I can't argue with a theme that can utilize an entire orchestra.
," by the Cruxshadows. I never know what to do with this band. They are nominally "Goth," but they tend to use a lot of classical imagery. I first encountered from in a John Ringo novel called 
.(A book I will talk about at a later date, with a few cautionary notes ... it's not that bad, but there is one section that should carry a warning label) I had no idea what the song was about, so I looked it up on YouTube. The title is taken from something that could be from the original Illiad -- that the bravest of those who died were born in winter.
," by Heath Alexander. I first discovered this song in a John Ringo novel called 
, a scifi military novel about a 
," by 
. 
The Times were also instrumental in discussing the Lord of the Rings as metaphor as well, with the theatrical release of Return of the King's absence of Saruman being likened unto a missing Osama. Instead, everyone who saw the 
knows that Saruman was deleted from the film because of time issues.
Neil Gaiman is a British author with a couple of novels to his name, and several tv episodes. I only enjoyed two works by him – 
, and 
. The one other book of his I truly enjoyed is called 
, and there is nothing he can say or do to prove to me that Terry Prachett didn't take over the book entirely.
, an author who has been writing since the dawn of time … or at least the dawn of modern science fiction … makes $10,000 for an entire convention appearance, and Gaiman isn't half as interesting as Ellison. Trust me, I've met Ellison, and I've seen Gaiman.
