Beauty In The Breakdown

September 11th is my mom's birthday.

For many years of her life (by which I mean 29), my mom's birthday was never a problem. In fact, having "911" for your birthday was kind of her bit. She used to joke that no one ever had an excuse for forgetting her birthday, because it was on every fire truck. Lucky people! Not to mention the fact that people had a chance to remember her every time they saw a cute firefighter. It was a cute little joke (told by an obvious fan of fire fighters) and even though I heard it a million times growing up, it always got my mom a laugh.

But on September 11, 2001 the joke stopped being cute and everyone stopped laughing.

September 11th. It's my generation's "Where were you when?" moment. We ask "Where were you when you heard about 9/11" much like our parent's generation asked "Where were you when you heard that JFK was shot?' I, like most people, remember exactly where I was, what I was doing, and that strange, aimless, disoriented feeling that, days later, no one could quite shake. I remember every surreal minute of it.

That morning, like most mornings of days that go horribly wrong, began perfectly normally. I had gone into my mom's room to wish her a happy birthday, worried about how she was handling it (I'll just say it was a milestone birthday and leave it at that). I sat down on her bed mentally preparing my pep talk, as my mom turned on the news. For as long as I can remember, my mom has always watched the local news in the morning (I come by my news anchor obsession honestly). Our local news anchor was talking about something innocuous when she suddenly fell silent and turned a few shades lighter. The local news immediately cut to National, and my mom and I abandoned our talk to watch. At first, the reports were nothing but chaos. No one knew what had happened exactly, but they were guessing there was some kind of explosion in the tower and the building was on fire (I would remember this exact moment the day of the Boston Bombings, when everyone knew that something had happened and it was bad, but we couldn't fathom just how bad yet). As we watched, the second plane crashed into the tower. I remember that whoever was reporting at the time started screaming and that was when I realized that this was huge. I was in a journalism and communications class at the time and as (weird, crazy, ironic) luck would have it, that morning I was still trying to cram for a quiz that day on journalistic integrity, objectivity, and how important it is to maintain your cool at all times, particularly during a live broadcast. I had no way of knowing at the time but I shouldn't have wasted my time studying; We never wound up taking that quiz. Instead, my shell-shocked, rather shaky-looking teacher (a first year, he was only five years older than me and no doubt monumentally freaked out, maybe even more so than all of us) sent us home. I remember getting gas later that night and instead of the usual, noisy gas station bustle, everyone was silent, just listening to the news on their radios. Dan Rather's voice was echoing off the pumps as everyone listened in stunned silence, gas pumps hanging limply from their hands. It was like a scene from a movie, that eerie silence right before the storm hits or the world ends. I'll never forget that feeling.

It was twelve years ago, but the memory is so clear, so vivid that it could have happened yesterday. It was all so violent, so tragic, so unnecessary, so unfathomable. I was only seventeen, but 9/11 was my wake up call to the fact that a big, scary world lay beyond my sheltered existence. 

But I believe that there's a silver lining.

I remember the days right after 9/11, before the conspiracy theories, the Patriot Acts, the finger-pointing or blaming started to pour in, when the atmosphere was indescribable. Everyone was paying attention to everything going on around them, everyone was engaged. People were hanging up flags and talking to strangers. We were all united in sorrow; We were grieving but we were doing it together, and we buzzed with our mutual sympathy and comradery. It felt like taking a glimpse at what the world would look like if everyone dropped their agendas, politics, prejudices, ill-conceived perceptions and down-right snobbishness and just focused on acting like decent human beings. And you know what? That world was awesome. For a moment, our values synched up and we gained a whole new appreciation for strong, brave people. We appreciated things like the will and steel nerves of the first responders who went rushing into hell trying to save people. We stopped taking police, firefighters, and the military for granted and appreciated what they all go through to protect and serve. No one cared who they voted for in the 2000 election, where they stood on abortion, or how much money they made. We cared about the content of people's characters instead of just surface-level facts and sound bytes of their opinions. "United We Stand" became our motto not just because it sounded nice and patriotic, but because everyone actually felt that way. I can honestly say that in the midst of so much sadness and chaos, I've never been prouder to a part of this country, that we were all in this fight together.  The United States became one big family bonded in grief and for one fleeting moment, it made us all a little better. As I sit here now, a dozen years later, I'm reminded of an article I read once, about how calamity and tragedy helps people focus, realize what's important to them and to try, however briefly, to be a better version of themselves. The world was bursting with those people in the days after 9/11, people who wanted to do anything they could to help, from passing out fliers to giving blood. It was humanity at its best. It was the beauty in the breakdown.

Every year, I think that we should honor the victims and families of 9/11. But I've never been able to figure out how. Whenever I think about it, I always come back to that post 9/11 feeling of being a united front, feeling like we were all in this mess together, and I wish we could figure out a way to get back to feeling that way. I realize that the world is not meant to be perfect, there will always be adversity, violence, war, and a million other terrible things. But honestly, we can do a little better than this. Those days right after 9/11 gave me hope. Maybe someday the good in the world will outweigh the bad, or at the very least, we'll appreciate the little but important things in life instead of taking them for granted. Maybe if we want to really honor the people who lost their lives, we could try being kinder, more patient, more tolerant people without needing a gut-wrenching tragedy to be our motivator. Maybe it's just the left wing, tree-huger in me, but I think we could all get the point eventually where no one cares what wing I am or what I hug, because at the end of the day, none of that stuff really matters. We're all in this together. Solidarity! Call me unrealistic or naive, but I'm not going to give up hope that it could happen.

We really could be the change we want to see in the world. We have the potential.

"On September 11, 2001 there was one American in space. This is the photo he took from the International Space Station" VIA Twitter.com/SciencePorn.

Where'd All The Good People Go?

A few weeks ago, I read a disturbing article. Nearly two-thirds of Americans are on some form of anti-depressant. Anxiety is at an all-time high. Nearly 30,000 Americans committed suicide in 2012 alone. I think the point of the article was to demonstrate America's dependency on pharmaceutical companies, but what I took away from it is that we are all walking around like open wounds, hurt, confused, terrified, and desperate for some form of escape from an increasingly violent reality.

I don't know about anyone else, but ever since 9/11, I find it nearly impossible to relax on an airplane. Ever since the 2007 London Bus bombings, I'm weary of city buses. Ever since Aurora, I've kept one eye on the exit every time I'm in a movie theater. And ever since Newtown, I have hated dropping my kids off at school every morning, wondering if that day will be their last.

And now Boston.

I would like to make it clear that I realize that violence, terrorism, and senseless tragedy is an every day occurance in other countries. Many people's first reaction to events like yesterday is "This happens all the time, all around the world and no one cares, so what's the big deal?" and honestly, this is a horrible reaction. Fighting apathy with apathy is pointless. The fact that violence occurs other places doesn't take away from what happened in Boston. If anything, it's a reminder that we all live on this crazy, messed up planet together and we should empathize with everyone who is a victim of violence, whether it occurs in your hometown or thousands of miles away. Have a heart. Show some compassion.

Speaking of compassion, in situations like this I have noticed two kinds of people: The good and the parasitical. The bad people are not just the obvious characters like the bomber(s) but the people who try to take advantage of an already horrible situation by creating fake Twitter accounts to "accept donations" for victims or to spread false reports or conspiracy theories.Why create chaos out of chaos? It's beyond me. People like this are not only showing a complete and utter lack of respect for victims and families, but for the human race in general. But I don't want to focus too much on the bad people. They don't deserve the attention.

The good are the best kind of people out there, the amazing first responders who ran towards the smoke and flames, into the chaos, intent on staying calm and saving lives while everyone else froze. The good are the marathon runners who kept running past the finish line, straight to hospitals to donate blood. The good are the spectators who, though injured themselves, helped others to safety. One of the best things in life is being pleasantly surprised by the kindness and humanity people are capable of expressing. Maybe it doesn't make everyone feel safer on an airplane or worry less about sending their kids to school every day, but in some small way, it's reassuring to think that there are people who are willing to put their lives on the line for the sake of someone else. That in the worst of situations, you can find the best in people and it doesn't get much better than that.

I'm only one person, a couple of thousand miles away from Boston, but I wish it was physically possible to hug the whole city right now and to let them know that people across the country are standing with them.We care about you, Boston, all the way from Albuquerque, and everywhere in between. 

If anyone is interested in helping, please check out the American Red Cross or my personal favorite good-doers Humans Helping Humans . Don't hang your head in fear, be proactive and help the world carry on. Hug your families, be grateful for what you have. Talk to your friends who are going through a hard time and don't be afraid to talk to someone about your own hard time. And turn off the TV every once in awhile. The bad news will still be there when you come back.

Most importantly, remember the helpers. See the good in life, humanity, and each other, no matter how desperate it feels. The good people haven't gone anywhere. You just have to look a little harder to find them.

We Have Nothing To Fear Except Absolutely Everything

He was a neuroscience PHD student. He was involved heavily in his church. He was shy and well-mannered. He had never had so much as a parking ticket. But he randomly walked into a movie theater and brutally killed twelve people and injured fifty-nine for absolutely no reason. It's appalling how little sense the world can make sometimes.

Waking up to the tragic story of the killings in Aurora, Colorado makes the things I thought I'd be worried about when I woke up this morning seem pointless and contrite. Tiny bumps on the road of life, not real problems. Going to see a midnight showing of a new movie and winding up dead, that's a real problem.

To be honest, my first reaction to this story (my first reaction to any like it for that matter) is "The world is full of bad people and horrible things, I never want to leave my house ever again", and I suspect that's a pretty common thought. All I want to do on days like this is hold my kids close to me and forget that an outside world even exists. But the outside world does exist. And ultimately hiding from it won't do anyone any good. Neither will attacking outside sources. I keep waiting for the media fall-out, with people blaming everything from video games, to comic books, to Marilyn Manson (no one's blamed him for anything ridiculous and out of his control in awhile, so he's probably due) on this tragedy. I'm not looking forward to the bashing because I simply don't agree with it. I think that art can inspire and entertain and maybe even influence a person's actions to an extent. But art didn't pull the trigger, James Holmes did.

I think that despite this tragedy and those like it, we should try to remember that the world isn't full of bad people; there are amazing people doing amazing things every day, they're just a little bit harder to find. Fortunately, I know some really great people and I can give a couple of great examples of wonderful people in this crazy world.

First, My friend Alison who started the organization Humans Helping Humans, which does exactly what it sounds like it does: Helps humans. She's organized drives to help with the Colorado wildfires and is currently helping out the families of the victims of the Aurora shootings. Or my friend Jeremy, who inspires us all with his work to help find a cure for Leukemia and Lymphoma through The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society . What both Alison and Jeremy have in common is that they are sincerely and proactively trying to make the world a better, more positive place. It's times like this when I try to think about people like Alison and Jeremy and how we can all strive to make positive contributions in this crazy world we live in. And how making positive contributions trumps living in fear any day.

What's funny is that during all of this, I keep thinking about something George W. Bush said right after 9/11. Now, I can tree-hug and Bush-hate with the best of them, but his words were actually amazingly appropriate then and I think they apply now. He said that people shouldn't be afraid to leave their houses or live their lives. If we didn't make an effort to keep going and keep persevering, it just meant the bad guys were wining. They want us to be afraid and the worst thing we can do is give in to fear.

I, for one, don't want to live my life in fear, no matter how scary the world is. And I don't want my kids to grow up learning to live in fear either. As easy as it would be to board up my windows, order my groceries online and never let my kids see the light of day again for fear of something bad happening to them, I'm going to take my chances. I'm going to continue to raise them to believe in good people and good things. I won't let my life be consumed by tragedies and "what-ifs". That's no way to live a life.

My heart goes out to the victims and the families of the victims of last night's shooting. I can't imagine what they're going through. My prayers are with them. My prayers are also with James Holmes' family. I always tell my kids that I will love them no matter who they are or what they do, and I can't fathom my own child doing something like this. I can't imagine those words being tested in such an extreme way. It must be agonizing for them.

In the meantime, I'm going to turn off my computer for the rest of the day and stop reading about this. I'm going to take my kids swimming and out in the sun to play. We are going to live our lives, not hide from them.