no good

My eyes are glued to her photo. I gasp. I smile. I gloat. I'm in the midst of an extreme moment of karma, physical evidence that what goes around, comes around. "I knew it," I convince myself. I knew in my heart that God never forgets, and He takes care of his small birds, mustard seeds, and the like. I have been vindicated. It is pay-back time for the grief, and yes, downright craziness, she caused me. We're even now.

A night passes.

Really? I put on my big girl panties and breathe. Really?

Does a cloudy, unflattering mug shot for stealing a hairbrush in Wal-Mart (I'm just guessing since she looked so forlorn) actually make up for the hours of pain, tears and fear I experienced some ten years ago - almost to the day? Can a bond of $1300 be equal to the thousands that I lost? And not mention the years stolen from my life? What about my children? Can it replace their grief?

Hours have passed since my initial revelation, and the sun is rising. The mama bird flips up to her corner nest and then flies down again to the porch railing, heading out to find food for her young. The horses pass by the upper field, grazing and every now and then, raise their heads to make sense of an unknown sound and quickly, once they determine everything is okay, resume nibbling. The cat sits at my feet, all cuddled in a ball. Never impressed by the movements of the birds or the horses. He only moves when I do. He is only moved by me.

I realize that I am no different from yesterday morning, even with my new-found knowledge. Every thing I've tried to discover, every one that I had informed, every high-five I lifted are movements and thoughts that I surmised would make me a different, more satisfied person. One with a new sense of worth and made greater because of her atonement. Nope. Didn't happen.

Knowing something bad happens to another can't increase my value. If my mom were here, she'd tell me it diminishes mine. I should be the lofty one. I should be the better one. And I will be known by my thoughts and deeds. And at this moment, I change gears.

I'm sad that people don't lose their spots. That they don't change. That they don't understand that good is the only road to follow. I guess people become so cemented to a certain path that veering off is never an option. Doing what is right is the only option.

So, I will forgive my thoughts - they will come to no good. I haven't been able to forgive her yet. Nor the others, but in time, I will. I have forgotten to the point that I can get through any given day without thinking of the day my world ended. It gets better - even with a pop-up reminder of her terrible face.

My bird, my horses and my cat don't have time for her - and frankly, neither do I. 

Remembering September 11 - Ten Years Later

As a teacher, one of the best experiences of the school year, was traveling with my  journalism/yearbook students to Columbia University in New York for the annual scholastic conference in March. For one incredible week, everyone would be saturated with the most up-to-date trends in journalism plus be able to attend a Broadway show and inhale everything New York had to offer. We were the typical tourists, always looking up.

March 2002 Skyline

However, this time, a different view would paint the heavens.

It was March 2002, what seemed like only days since planes had crashed into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and Shanksville. The trip was questionable. Would it be safe in a post 9/11 world? After all, these travelers were merely teenagers. Looking back, I realize, that of all the years we traveled to New York, this would be the most important. Much like every year that had come before, students were excited about seeing the usual sites and attending the conference, but what consumed their thoughts was their visit to Ground Zero.

We all remembered that Tuesday morning in Room 3 watching the events unfold and crying and holding each other tighter than ever. My fourth period family rushed into my room after first period and never moved for the rest of the day. These students were journalists who wanted to know answers; they had been taught how to ask questions and find the story. But today, they were also children whose hearts were breaking. The world had changed and for a few kids from a small town in Georgia, they needed to see it first hand.

Just outside of Trinity Church

Suzy & Friend

I remember landing in New York. There were no Twin Towers to greet us. It was a different landscape. We made our way into Manhattan, checked in and our first stop, Ground Zero.

Even though it had been six months since the attack, evidence remained. I was amazed that dust still covered nearby windows and remnants of who-knows-what still hung in trees. Policemen and workers were everywhere. The students and I visited at night, and it was a hive of activity. My guys became working journalists that night; they talked to everyone, asking questions, saying 'thank you', and even giving hugs.

Subway Entrance

Memorials

There were plywood barriers separating the onlookers from that ominous hole, walls that had been confettied with signatures, photos and missing person flyers. All expressing love, respect and regret for what had happened. Photos of fathers, children, mothers - all the object of a search that would end in tragedy.

Standing at the Trinity Church adjacent to the site, I remember looking up into the trees. Debris still hung on the branches, and dust covered the trunks and limbs. Yet, the church stood tall; they said no windows were broken. Now, it was a refuge for rescue and recovery workers serving hot meals and providing rest.

I was also amazed at the silence, the over-powering 'something' that seemed to be walking beside me. It was definitely a sacred place. I tried to fathom what had happened, but I could not. No one talked; there really wasn't anything to be said. A few sniffles broke the silence.

Taking it all in

I love New York City, always have since my first visit. The energy on the streets moves through me. I know many reject the idea of the big city, but I embrace it and can't wait to return. It's more than Broadway plays, street vendors and Central Park. Now, in this Post 9/11 World, I try to recall that The City that Never Sleeps now lives as a symbol of what happens when every man is on the same page and moves forward with the strong will to overcome evil with good.

Times Square

September 11 has forever linked me to those kids that were in my classroom that day. Every year, we will all return to that same place, that same moment and remember. On this ten year anniversary, I watch the memorial service and cry; I listen to the actual morning broadcast and weep. Part of me can't fathom how anyone could do that. The other part wonders when the next attack will take place.

Times Square