Time Machines

It's a sad day.

I have been trying to avoid any TV news reports today--it's just too much to deal with all of this nonstop coverage of 9/11. That day is still very much a part of me, as it has been whether we celebrate a one, two or ten year anniversary. Most of my friends here in NYC feel much the same way--that this arbitrary date doesn't make it any more important or any less awful. I cannot look at footage of that day without tearing up, and have spent the better portion of today getting irrationally weepy at movies like Becoming Jane, Original Sin and Miss Congeniality (yes, I've had TBS on all day), as well as getting insanely furious at IKEA when they didn't have the items that I had come to purchase. I decided to get industrious and clean out my closet, and finding my father's sweater in there put me over the edge once again. The sadness seems to be in the air, easily plucked and accessible, and the cold air and gloomy clouds fit the somber mood of the day.

I had spent the night before at a secret party in some warehouse space somewhere in Brooklyn, themed to 1930s Morocco. There were elegant flapper dresses paired with bobbed hair, djellabas, kaftans and turbans galore. (I wore the hot pink and silver djellaba I purchased in Tangier in June.) There were belly dancers and live musicians, tarot readers and henna tattoo artists. We danced and danced and it was so delightful to be truly transported to another date and time, far away from this time, and this place. I realize that only the best, the prettiest and the most exciting and delightful parts of the 30s were celebrated last night, but all history is in some way revisionist, and it is those who triumph who decide which parts endure.

I want to honor my friend Melanie who volunteered at the medical examiner's office 10 years ago. I want to honor my brother and sister-in-law who housed me for a full week after the towers fell. I want to honor all of us who fled to the hospitals to give blood. I want to send love to all the souls that were scared and lost on that day. I want to remember that my father was still alive 10 years ago. I want to thank whoever designed the Towers of Light that stand each year where the towers used to be, and how comforting I always find this tribute.

I love this quote by Albert Einstein. I'll leave you with it:

"Strange is our situation here upon earth. Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why, yet sometimes seeming to a divine purpose. From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: That we are here for the sake of others...for the countless unknown souls with whose fate we are connected by a bond of sympathy. Many times a day, I realize how much my outer and inner life is built upon the labors of people, both living and dead, and how earnestly I must exert myself in order to give in return as much as I have received."