My story, continued
Sep. 11th, 2006 12:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arisbeAll right.
This time five years ago I was about a third of the way to Times Square, where I was glad to find the trains running uptown, saving me the last mile and a half. I had walked far enough, beginning with twelve or thirteen flights downstairs.
When I got back to 72nd Street the owner of the All State Cafe (the Mister Goodbar bar) saw me walking by and told me that my wife was inside. So was her sister in law, who had walked from the UN. The sentiment of the international community included a certain amount of indignation that the wickedness of the Americans should make the city in which the world government headquarters was located vulnerable to attack. Later her father, retired from the Indian Civil Service, complained that Americans should stop whining about 9/11 when more people had been hurt by the collapse of Enron. Then again, the poor fellow was living up in Riverdale, getting his news from the international Herald Tribune.
That night a friend (?), formerly a lobbyist for the Jewish organizations called to say, Now you know how it feels to be Israeli. Here was a woman born and raised in the Bronx gloating (so it seemed to me when the conversation was recounted to me) to a woman born on the banks of the Brahmaputra. I was thus prepared to be disgusted by the brutal and bullying tone of the unspeakable Netenyahu's pretended condolences. No, I don't think Mossad was directly involved in planning the attacks. But I was prepared to evaluate the evidence candidly.
I have participated in no commemorations today. But Wednesday night I shall be present at a vesper liturgy of the Exaltation of the Precious and Lifegiving Cross, the troparion of which I have hummed all my musical life, at least ever since hearing the 1812 Overture, which opens and all but concludes with it: O Lord save Thy people and bless Thine inheritance. Grant victories to the Orthodox Emperors over the barbarians, and by the power of Thy Cross, safeguard all Thy people.
Barbarians indeed; not all of them Muslims.
And now off to the dental clinic. If the appointment is taken up with fixing the filling she put in last Wednesday, I may not have to pay anything this time.
This just in from the Gaelic Starover:
When Time Doesn't Heal.
This time five years ago I was about a third of the way to Times Square, where I was glad to find the trains running uptown, saving me the last mile and a half. I had walked far enough, beginning with twelve or thirteen flights downstairs.
When I got back to 72nd Street the owner of the All State Cafe (the Mister Goodbar bar) saw me walking by and told me that my wife was inside. So was her sister in law, who had walked from the UN. The sentiment of the international community included a certain amount of indignation that the wickedness of the Americans should make the city in which the world government headquarters was located vulnerable to attack. Later her father, retired from the Indian Civil Service, complained that Americans should stop whining about 9/11 when more people had been hurt by the collapse of Enron. Then again, the poor fellow was living up in Riverdale, getting his news from the international Herald Tribune.
That night a friend (?), formerly a lobbyist for the Jewish organizations called to say, Now you know how it feels to be Israeli. Here was a woman born and raised in the Bronx gloating (so it seemed to me when the conversation was recounted to me) to a woman born on the banks of the Brahmaputra. I was thus prepared to be disgusted by the brutal and bullying tone of the unspeakable Netenyahu's pretended condolences. No, I don't think Mossad was directly involved in planning the attacks. But I was prepared to evaluate the evidence candidly.
I have participated in no commemorations today. But Wednesday night I shall be present at a vesper liturgy of the Exaltation of the Precious and Lifegiving Cross, the troparion of which I have hummed all my musical life, at least ever since hearing the 1812 Overture, which opens and all but concludes with it: O Lord save Thy people and bless Thine inheritance. Grant victories to the Orthodox Emperors over the barbarians, and by the power of Thy Cross, safeguard all Thy people.
Barbarians indeed; not all of them Muslims.
And now off to the dental clinic. If the appointment is taken up with fixing the filling she put in last Wednesday, I may not have to pay anything this time.
This just in from the Gaelic Starover:
When Time Doesn't Heal.
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<RUN SARCASM>
Date: 2006-09-12 01:28 am (UTC)