Anniversary

Five years ago post.

Five years ago, plus two days post.

There is a sense that something profound must rise from the ashes of tragedy, that if you can't say something with depth and clarity that somehow reaches into the heart of what went on you might as well say nothing.

I can't do that. I have nothing profound, moving or deep to say about the loss of nearly 3,000 lives (and counting, more in a moment); I have nothing to say about the loss of two extremely ugly, if anchoring, buildings in this city of otherwise lovely architecture; I have nothing to say about the turn our politics have taken in the past five years. I have nothing to say here and now about any of that because I feel, exhaustively, that I've been saying, thinking, living and feeling it for four years and frankly -- I'm tired. Having it all rehashed on TV and radio ("Jack FM will be going all acoustic for the day, in honor of the anniversary") and in magazines and, well, shit, blogs makes me tired all over again.

Many things are not better for many people since September 11, 2001. Right now, for me, in my small little microcosmic world, I can't say that. Things are not so bad, at least for the present, and in some areas they are quite spectacularly good. I was at one job when the towers fell; I am now at a better one. My thirties have continued to be better than my twenties. And I have become more politically active.

Outside my little world, there are many people whose lives are much worse off, however, and I am trying to think of them instead.

I am also trying to avoid shaking my head at the short-sightedness of those who were in charge on that day, how they were unable to project into the future even the slightest bit of imagination, and how, being unable to do that, they just blundered forward -- into Afghanistan, into Iraq, into our civil liberties, and forgot all of the details. Tonight, Katie Couric (another one who changed jobs since 2001) popped up on "60 Minutes" to do a story on all of the poor first responders who ran into save people at the site of the disaster and have since come down with black lung, lung cancer, or an inability to use their lungs at full capacity, among other debilitations.

I remember thinking at the time that it was a story that could have been written in 2001 and put in nitrogen until tonight. Who didn't know this was going to happen? Who didn't wonder how it would affect the health of anyone who ran in there, or around the city? Who didn't give then-EPA Director Christine Todd Whitman the finger when she insisted there was no real danger posed?

And yet workman's comp cut them off because they filed too late. Or they're being tangled in insurance red tape. Or this, or that. Could no one have sat down on September 13 and said, "This is going to be a continuing health issue for those men and women who are trying to help clean things up. Let's get something set up now for them, so in 5 years we don't have to try and CYA."

But, no. We suffer in this country not from a lack of will, or a lack of desire, but a lack of imagination. If I could sit in my living room, stunned at the one channel of news I could get at the time, eating some comfort ice cream, and imagine this was coming, so could someone who could actually make it better.

Yet, here we are. What was that line from the New York Times editorial page today -- "We have moved on, but no one can argue that we have moved ahead."

Indeed. The best we can do for the 10th anniversary is to climb out of this quagmire. And truly, in a heartfelt and meaningful way, move ahead.