I have to stop letting my brother wake me up early in the morning.
Joel did it the morning of the Challenger explosion (it was a teacher workday for us), and on September 11, 2001, he called me before my alarm went off to let me know that a plane had just crashed into the World Trade Center in New York City. Jenn and I got up and watched on television, confused as to what was going on, until an airliner crashed into the second tower.
Like everyone else in America, we didn’t know what happened next. So, I got in the car and drove into work.
Normally, my commute took me along some of the busiest highways in America — the 10 miles from our North Hollywood apartment to downtown LA, where the LA Times building is, for instance, can often take up to an hour driving the 101 during rush hour. Not on September 11. My car was one of a handful on the road; it was emptier than on Christmas morning. I scanned the radio as I drove, but no one knew anything more than they had known before I’d left for home.
It wasn’t until I was driving past the Orange County airport that I felt scared for the first time. Previously, I’d felt dizzy, disoriented, but now, driving along, I couldn’t help but wonder if one of the planes would be falling out of the sky, or diverting course on final approach to take out a densely populated Southern California city. I needn’t have worried: Like the roadways, the always-busy airways of the area were empty and eerily silent, but I had the strongest sensation of feeling a massive airliner suspended over my car by a giant hand, ready to drop when I was least expecting it. I even peeked up through the sunroof a few times.
When I got to Blizzard, the office was open — that is, it was unlocked and the alarm was off — but almost no one was there, other than a few people who lived outside Orange County and had a long enough commute that they had started driving before anyone would have been in the office to say whether or not the company was open today. Those of us there looked at each other a bit until upper management types (I honestly don’t remember who) essentially threw us out and told us to go home to be with our families.
Other than the five month period between me returning from Egypt and starting work at the Potomac News, I have never lived in New York for any great length of time, although we visited one of my father’s old fraternity roommates there regularly when I was growing up. But I find myself thinking about what happened on 9/11 all the time, especially the people aboard Flight 93 and the firefighters and police officers who died in New York City. I had been scared of imaginary airplanes falling on my head, but the FDNY casualties ran into a collapsing building, knowing they were going to die, on the off-chance of saving a stranger’s life. Those aboard Flight 93 knew they were dead, but chose to save the lives of people they would never know by facing it head on.
I wish I had some great revelation about what it all means in the long run, or that it had somehow transformed me into a better, more noble, more selfless person. But I think that mostly happens in movies.
But it’s still September 11 for me, nearly every day. I’m not scared now — indeed, rural America is a singularly unattractive target for terrorists — but I find myself mourning all the lives lost that day and the days after all the time.
Not forgetting is the very least we can do.
Damn skippy.
Elsewhere on the Internet, an astonishing tribute to New Orleans by Laura Misch, a former Playboy Bunny (and Miss February 1975 — NSFW) who lived there in the 1970s. Well worth sitting through the Salon Site Pass ad to read. (I always knew that Playboy Playmates were really articulate and intelligent, no matter what anyone might say!)
I don’t believe New Orleans is gone for good. For one thing, dealing with watery tragedy is something that people on the Gulf Coast are used to — while the aftermath of Katrina is horrible, I suspect its horror looks a lot worse to those unused to hurricanes, like my wife.
Secondly, New Orleans is too much of a tourist destination to not be rebuilt by various hustlers, crooks and stubborn old SOBs, which is approximately the same set of ingredients that gave us the original New Orleans (although New Orleans has flooded and burned down more than once in the past).
And finally, I haven’t seen it yet. It’s yet another thing that I’ve put off seeing, even though I really want to visit, because “it’ll be there.” You’d think I’ve had learned my lesson when I turned down a chance to see the Berlin Wall (oops), visit the Soviet Union (oops) or see the Grateful Dead in concert (oops).
No more delays: When they reopen for business, I’ll be bringing my tourist dollars to help with the effort.
This wasn’t a surprise to me: Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger has struck a deal with two tribes to build casinos in the High Desert city of Barstow.
This was, however:
September 9, 2005
Honorable Arnold Schwarzenegger
Governor, State of California
State Capitol Building, First Floor
Sacramento, CA 95814
Dear Governor Schwarzenegger:
I am writing regarding your announcement of new state tribal gaming compacts with the Big Lagoon Rancheria of Humboldt County, and the Los Coyotes Band of Cahuilla and Cupeno Indians of San Diego County.
Both of these tribes are located more than one hundred miles away from the sites of the proposed casinos within the City of Barstow that has a direct impact on the communities of the High Desert which I represent.
Additionally, your proclamation issued on May 18, 2005 expressly states that you would not allow a tribe to conduct gaming on newly acquired land, unless there was a vote of the local jurisdiction and a local advisory vote of the local community.
I believe that off-site gaming is such an extraordinary expansion of gaming and it includes impacts beyond just the directly affected community that any demonstration of local support must be through an advisory vote that includes surrounding affected communities. Due to the controversial nature of this vote, I actually feel the threshold should be more than a simple majority vote.
Therefore, I will be authoring legislation in January 2006, which clearly defines the parameters for these situations. Please feel free to contact me in the future regarding this issue.
Sincerely,
George C. Runner, Jr.
Senator, 17th District
So much for my being able to accurately read the local political landscape with any sort of accuracy.
And yes, the Timbisha Shoshone tribe are located more than 100 miles from Hesperia, although the land they want to build their casino on here would be added to their reservation lands, under a provision in the Timbisha Homeland Act.
All of Hesperia is within Runner’s district.
Interesting times …
The Daily Press story on the Barstow casino decision and Runner’s reaction.
The LA Times story.
The San Bernardino County Sun’s take.
As part of my trying to learn how to be a better journalist, I’m trying to do more follow-up stories. The next edition of the Star, I’ll have a follow-up on last week’s story about the animal shelter fund-raiser, saying what happened to some of the pets featured in the article. And, of course, that meant taking new pictures. More will appear on Page B2 of the September 13 edition of the paper.
Some pictures from the last time I visited the shelter can be found here and here.
The September 13 story.
In a sinister attempt to keep me buying nothing but Hondas the rest of my life, Apple Computers has announced that, starting later this year, Hondas (along with Acuras, Audis and Volkswagens) will feature iPod integration with their cars.
To date, I have owned four Honda Civics, all used but the latest one, ranging from a 1979 to my current 1999. My one flirtation with another car company ended poorly, and we will speak of it no more.
(Source.)
Less than a year after I received my iPod for Christmas, I’m something like four or five models out of date, with my enormous monochrome edition that I love so dearly. The newest iPod is the Nano, which is approaching the insanely small point. It’ll be interesting to see what iPods will look like at this point in 2006.
