Skip to main content

09-11 Anniversary


This is a guest post by The Urban Blabbermouth. Comments, as always, are welcome.

On each anniversary of the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, I think about my neighbor who went to work there and never returned home. I think of those who died and of their families and hope that they are coping well with this hurt.  I think of the images on TV of the Towers collapse.  I think about the people I saw coming over the Brooklyn Bridge covered in ash looking like ghosts and zombies.  I think about lateness.

My neighbor, good provider that he was, made the decision to get up early that morning so as not to be late for work and he did not come home.  Some people made the decision to get up late that morning, were late to work, missed everything, and went home. Something is off here.  The results do not add up.  Do the right thing, make the right decision to be on time for work and end up with a bad result -- dead, or make a bad decision to do the bad thing, to be late for work and end up with a good result -- alive.  

Good decisions go bad and bad decisions go good despite ourselves. No one knows why.  We explain by some common sayings; the luck of the draw as if this is a card game, or make enough decisions and the odds are that X will be good and Y will be bad as if it is a math problem or it is the Will of God.   The first two are random.  Can happen to anyone at any time.  The last is planned.  In Book of Job, God tests our faith.  God says He has a Plan for each of us but God does not tell us the details.  So no matter the reason for it, we still don't know why good decisions go bad or why bad decisions go good.

Yet, decisions must be made.  Decide -- be on time for work or be late for work?  To quote from a sci-fi novel The Dosadi Experiment by Frank Herbert, "The least thing that is known shall govern your acts."  One thing I do know, get enough latenesses to work and I will be fired.

The image above is from


Vol-E said…
As a native New Yorker, I often think of the different personae we have had in the eyes of the rest of the world. 9/11, followed by hurricanes Irene and Sandy, have changed our self-image for the foreseeable future.
The Urban Blabbermouth said…
The great New Yorkers must be humbled before we can accept and love them as fellow humans. I see that as the darker side of human nature.

Popular posts from this blog

Memoir - The Year of Kent State

by The Urban Blabbermouth
I wanted to write a fictional memoir and it got away from me. 

I was born in the Year of Kent State. I didn't know. I was watching a cable channel specializing in historical programs, in this case, newsworthy events from the 1970s. The Ohio National Guard shot 13 unarmed students protesting the Vietnam War on the Kent State University campus. Four students died. By the time I was aware of a bigger world than my own, Kent State passed into history.

Im gonna git u Sukkah

by The Urban Blabbermouth [who may or may not be shown in the photo above... - v-E] ~ True story. I am walking to my car and I notice a couple of Jewish fellows, twenty somethings, with the bouquets of what looks like bamboo or palm. I know they are Jewish for they look Hasidic. They are wearing long black jackets, wide brim black fedora hats, and have curly sideburns. In truth, I classify all Jewish who dress like this as Hasidic although they may identify themselves differently. They are standing near the corner canvassing passersby.

Climbing to New Heights

by The Urban Blabbermouth
It started when I was ten.  I was riding shotgun with my father when a small plane crossed the highway in front of us.  The plane floated gently to its landing, like it had all the time in the world.  It was beautiful.  I knew then I wanted to be a pilot.  

I dreamed of soaring with the clouds and flying through them.  I could go anywhere the crow flies.  No stuck in traffic following a road as laid out by some anonymous engineer.  I could fly with the birds, although, I never thought myself a bird.  I loved the freedom.

But, I fear heights.  

It's not just any heights, it's low heights, the kind you get with stairs, balconies, bridges, and landing airplanes.  When I fly on airlines as a passenger, I look out the window at thirty thousand feet, no fear.  Somewhere between six feet, my height, and thirty thousand feet, airplane's height, lives my fear, a mysterious feeling that emerges from my stomach and rises up into my chest.  I can't…