The Great Bird of Disaster

The day is, as they say, fast approaching. In fact, it’s tomorrow. The weather’s not quite as good as it was in September ten years ago, but it’s good enough; this year, however, there are cops and military all over, watching for signs that someone might want to commemorate the 9/11 anniversary by destroying even more lives.

Phil and I saw a police barricade outside Times Square last night. I told him about the news I’d seen that two “credible informants” had passed word that terrorist organizations, including, possibly, al Queda, would be attempting an attack on Sunday. Law enforcement groups had zeroed in on two rental vans and were trying to find them all across the country. They suspected the vans might get packed with explosives and used as car bombs.

I made some flippant remark that coming to New York for this anniversary could get us blown up. But Phil pointed out we could get blown up anywhere, at any time. Or killed in an earthquake in our own deeply unstable city. Or suffer any of innumerable other terrible fates. He wasn’t being negative when he said this. He was just stating the simple truth, that life is not safe or predictable. It never has been, and, given our ‘round-the-clock drama fixation on CNN, MSNBC, and all the others, any belief that any of us is constitutionally exempt from such fates has become culpably naïve.

In a sense, this statement hearkens back to my own “we’ll never feel safe again,” moment as I watched the smoke and flames billow from the Towers. That was the death of my own innocence, I guess. But it does not indicate that doom and gloom are inescapable. Recognizing that there’s no ultimate safety is not the same as saying that tragedy is right around the corner.

You might think horror was inevitable, judging from what we see on the news and in our violence-loving entertainment. You might assume that nearly all of us will meet violent ends and that tragedy stalks every life. It doesn’t, and the fact that we could be the victims of some kind of horror doesn’t mean it’s likely that we will be. The world is a big place, and you and I are very small individuals. And the number of horrors that happen in any given lifetime is limited. There is no reason to think that something bad is going to happen to Phil and me, even here in New York on the tenth anniversary of 9/11. And there is every reason not to give in to fear.

I’ll be keeping my eyes open tomorrow morning, just as I do in every public place, when traveling, or anywhere I go. But I’ll still go where I want to go and do what I want to do, within reason. If the Great Bird of Disaster swoops down, well, I guess I’ll deal with that then, hoping to stay clearheaded and smart about how I do it. It’s worked so far.