A time to reflect

I'm going to take a break from my attempts at being witty (because you know, I've been blogging soooo long/frequently) to muse something a little more somber.

September 11, 2001: I guess you could classify me as uninvolved. I did not lose any loved ones; honestly, I didn't even know anyone living in NYC. Though "uninvolved", I certainly wasn't unaffected. From the day I was born, I have always been compassionate to an extreme. This is in no way commending myself. I am no martyr; perhaps emotional would be more fitting. I took 9/11 much harder than the majority of those "uninvolved."

I never came to terms with the tragedy. Being in NYC 5 years later, I decided it was time to try and gain some closure. I headed down to ground zero after work. After milling around looking at memorial artwork for a few minutes, I settled down against the wall of a quiet ally next to the site. It was time to cry. I sat and cried and let out all my frustrations and anger and grief. The same wall I sat against slowly became spotted with other grievers, quietly revering the past. People passing by took pictures of the site, much like those by the memorial. I wondered how so many people could treat it merely as some tourist attraction, completely indifferent. I suppose one day it will become just that--look at Pearl harbor after all. But it's too fresh, too new, too raw--Still a piece of recent history. The passers by snuck glances at me and the others as they walked by-but who can blame them? It's human nature to look at someone crying, much like watching a train wreck.

And as I lifted my head, taking a break from these thoughts, I found a woman standing, camera aimed down, pointing directly at me, post click...as though the mourners were on display-as though we were a tourist attraction too! HAVE SOME FUCKING RESPECT. I gave her a long, hard, cold stare. I regret not throwing her camera over the fence. Seriously, what is wrong with people? I cried and prayed some more: for those who lost their lives, for their families, and for humanity. What does our future hold if we cannot feel for our fellow man?

As I sat with tears streaking my face, a young woman next to me who had been silently paying her respects leaned down next to me and quietly asked, "would you like a hug from a stranger?" And as I accepted her outreached arms, I thought "maybe the world isn't so bad."