9/11

I've been sampling blog reactions to the sixth anniversary of 9/11 from the left and right of the blogosphere, and it's pretty much what I expected, since it doesn't seem to change from year to year. From the left we get, "America sucks, America is led by fools, America is doomed--and deserves to be." From the right we get "Never forgive, never forget."

Helpful, all.

Actually, I have no problem with "Never forget," but then, I'm a Jew, and it's my job never to forget. Of course, one look at the Arab world can tell us what the downside of that attitude is. Keeping your past alive is one thing; staring at it for so long that you confuse it with your present is another.

"Never forgive" is troubling. It's amazing to me how trippingly from the tongue it falls, across this allegedly Christian nation of ours. Never forgive? Really? Never?

I understand the emotions behind the statement, especially in our current context, where our political leadership has made it impossible for us to take correct action and Make Things Right. Had we stayed full force in Afghanistan, pursued Osama and Al Qaeda into Tora Bora and across the globe as we originally promised--relentlessly and to that organization's obliteration--and had we seen some success in that endeavor--I don't think we would be in a "Never Forgive" frame of mind. When justice has been served, forgiveness becomes more palatable. In fact, it is absolutely necessary, for the culture to be able to move on.

But that's not where we are, is it? Terrible things happened to us, and we feel the wound still open. Even as we inflict terror and destruction on other people, we realize that our efforts are mis-aimed (if you're on the left) or at the very least ineffective (if you're awake).

Here's how I'd prefer to formulate the mantra: "Never forget, never surrender, never assume."

I know "never surrender" sounds neanderthal-ish to some. To me, it's more of an internal command. It means hold fast to your ideals, even in the face of difficult day-to-day reality. It means pursue the right, even when you feel hopeless.

But I don't feel comfortable saying that without adding "Never assume." Because we've seen what happens when a group of people holds to "Never surrender" without thinking. And it's awful. "Never assume" means that you must always reconsider and re-evaluate to make sure that your analysis of the situation is correct, and that your actions are, and continue to be, on the side of truth and justice. Because we're human and we make mistakes--we rush into things with limited facts and limited vision.

And that's fine, sometimes--that's reality. We can't always dither and talk and wring our hands endlessly, refusing to act until we Know Everything. Sometimes we have to leap. So fine--we leap. We act. But that doesn't mean we have to turn off our brains, as this administration has done. "Stay the course" is nonsense if it isn't said after reconsideration and analysis.

And just to be clear: I'm not wringing my hands, and moaning with indecision, and saying "America is doomed and should be." I know what country the people of the world flock to for educational or economic or political opportunity--and it's not Saudi Arabia.

And I know what 9/11 was all about, in very real and concrete terms, because I was in New York at the time. And my wife was in Lower Manhattan at the time. And I spent the day watching the television, waiting for the next cell phone call from her, and wondering--in between calls--whether she was alive. Believe me--I am not in a forgiving mood, even six years later.

But when Osama bin Laden releases a new video that lays out an argument against us that is clearer and more rational and more logical than any of the puffery or demagoguery or platitudes put out by our own leadership, then yes, I am angry at our leadership. Furious, actually. Because I can't believe that, six years later, we're enabling that jackal to sound like a statesman.

We have squandered so much in the last six years--in blood, in treasure, and in international good will. And still the idiotic juggernaut rolls on--unaccountable, unswayable, and deaf to all the world.

There is so much we could have done--so much we needed to do. So much that will still need to be done, even if we give up and run away.

"Let justice be done, though the heavens fall" has been replaced by "Let the heavens fall, whether justice is done or not."

Are you okay with that? I'm not.

What We Know

A tiny bit more, all the time:

The mystery of how we read a sentence has been unlocked by scientists. Previously, researchers thought that, when reading, both eyes focused on the same letter of a word. But a UK team has found this is not always the case. In fact, almost 50% of the time, each of our eyes locks on to different letters
simultaneously.

Full story at http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/6983176.stm

Over the Rainbow

A sailboat slides across the water. At this distance it is all abstraction: a large green triangle, a smaller green triangle, a vertical line. It moves across the horizon, cutting through the tall umbrella stands in the foreground. Between the distant boat and the umbrella stands at this seaside bar, surfers rise and fall on the gentle breakers. The sun is starting its afternoon descent, and the water is beginning to sparkle with flecks of gold. I sit in the shade of a banyan tree, its twisted branches canopying over me and plunging down into the earth beside me to create new trees. There are three distinct banyans here, and yet all are really the same, single tree, looping and twisting and shooting out new growth everywhere. I sip my mai tai and listen to the gentle music and the gentle waves, and everything—around me and within me—is wonderfully, perfectly calm.

Context is everything. Before I came to Hawaii for the first time, I found ukeleles and Don Ho and fruity rum drinks absurd—kitschy and silly in the extreme. And yet here I am, surrounded by all of that, and it all feels completely natural and correct. In fact, I find that I look forward to it. What seemed silly and childish in my abrasive and fast-paced life seems, here in Hawaii, to be normal—and more than normal: something to be desired. The music just fits. It fits the palm trees and the gentle breezes and the mild, cool water. It fits the people here. Like them, it is kind and gentle, lilting and quiet. The notes stretch out languidly and lazily, like the days. The voices are mellow and wistful. It is all tranquility and peace.

Does the world outside us inform our music, or does our music help to create a world? The aborigines are said to believe that song originally brought the world into being—and that only the correct song, remembered and resung from generation to generation, can maintain the world. I like that. It means that music is not simply reaction; it carries responsibility. We choose the world we want to live in, in part, by the songs we choose to sing.

Right now, “Over the Rainbow” is playing on the stereo—the ukelele and falsetto version one hears on TV far too often. It is very popular here—recorded and live. Strolling musicians love to play it at the local restaurants here—especially the restaurants popular with toursists. I’m sure it resonates strongly with visitors from the colder parts of the mainland…because there really is a land that we’ve dreamed of, once in a lullabye.

Obviously, it’s not all gumdrops and unicorns here. It is, after all, a real place. Skies are blue—but for many people, the dreams that they dare to dream don’t come true. On the leeward side of Oahu, where we have been working with some middle and high schools, there is a great deal of poverty and homelessness. Driving up the western coast, one can see tent after tent after tent. It’s hard enough to get students to do their homework when the surf is up, the teachers tell us—but it’s a whole lot harder when the kids don’t have a desk to work at…or electricity. But the people we meet are unfailingly nice, and are eager to make things better for their kids in whatever ways are possible.

We will be back again in a month, to continue the work we’re doing. For now, though, it is time to return home—to wife and boys and desert.

As my night flight lifts off, I can see the island outlined and defined against the sea by a ring of lights, the mountainous core remaining dark and mysterious. We swing around the south shore, leave Hawaii behind, and rise up into the clouds. And then darkness, all the long way home.

It Is What It Is

Gallup poll from May of 2007 (http://www.galluppoll.com/content/?ci=27847):

Back to School

To celebrate the start of a new school year, I invite you to take a brief look at the most frequently banned and challenged books in America's public schools over the past year:

http://books.google.com/googlebooks/banned/

Goosebumps young adult novels: sure
Grand Theft Auto video games: check
Misogynistic and violent rap lyrics: fine
The Great Gastby: hell no!

So we beat on, boats agains the current, borne ceaselessly back into the past...the Dark Ages, in this particular case.