9/11.
Because writing this article for InsideSTL left me emotionally spent, I'm going to use it on my blog for the official 5-year anniversary of 9/11. I would just direct you to the link, but they seem to change on me these days.
I was aware that my “Off My Chest” column, published every Monday, fell on September 11th many weeks before I actually needed to get cracking on today’s article. Perhaps I was simply being impractically hard on myself, but I struggled a great deal with whether or not to comment on the fact that today is the five year anniversary of 9/11. Usually, I use this opportunity to vent on the latest pop cultural phenomenon that’s bugging me; my last three articles have featured verbal attacks on Lindsay Lohan, St. Louis jersey chasers, and my hatred for the word “panties.” However, I honestly cannot find the nerve (or perhaps the courage) to write about something so trivial or frivolous on such a significant day that undoubtedly troubles each and every one of us.
That being said, I wanted to ensure that I did not exploit today’s column as a means of expressing my political views or opinion about the war in Iraq. This is not that kind of website; I am not that kind of person. I would never take advantage of this position in order to dominate a little of your time with my political perspective. Who cares what I think, anyway? This topic is too meaningful to trigger the inevitable blasting of my thoughts all over the site’s message boards. In the spirit of a very necessary bipartisan viewpoint, I wondered for quite some time if I truly had any sort of opinion on 9/11 that could translate to something universal for us all, a common idea or emotion that resonates within us all. I hope I do this immense (at least, to me) undertaking some semblance of justice.
Let me act like a teacher for a second. When our country declared its independence from England in 1776, its members individually and collectively made exacting attempts to separate America’s foundation and ideals from those of England. To be more specific, our founding fathers and other innovative and scrupulous fellows yearned to establish a society that was drastically different from the oppressive nature of England’s former rule. This is why we have a democracy rather than a monarchy. They also desired to develop a culture that was unique and inventive, without a trace of influence from those uppity Brits. This is why, particularly in the realm of literature and other art forms, prominent new Americans called for a universal experience.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American author, poet, and philosopher, was one of these leaders. He sought literature that would unite a young America; in essence, he wanted to stop copying ideas and techniques from the British. He also believed that the new country should perpetuate a common myth to give the fledging society a sense of history and of folklore. These myths are still well-known today, including stories such as the first Thanksgiving, George Washington and the cherry tree, and Paul Bunyan and Babe, his blue ox. Granted, many of these tales are drastically sugarcoated or are utter fabrications. But, we all know them; we all heard them when we were children. They unite us as Americans (perhaps now only very minutely), and they are part of our familiar, collective experience.
What constitutes our modern day collective experience isn’t nearly so footloose and fancy free. We don’t typically elect political leaders who boast they “can never tell a lie.” We now see through the bullshit of glorified European-American and Native American relations. And I’m pretty sure that I’ve never seen a blue ox. Our reality, what we see in the news everyday, what we wake up to every morning, is simply dismal and frankly, downright scary in comparison. 9/11 was the ultimate blow to our country’s sense of success and security, abroad and within our own borders. Five years later, I’m still in disbelief and just profoundly sad.
Dave Letterman said it best in his first monologue after the attacks took place: “The reason we were attacked, the reason these people are dead, these people are missing and dead, and they weren’t doing anything wrong, they were living their lives… Another smaller group of people stole some airplanes and crashed them into buildings. We’re told that they were zealous, fueled by religious fervor… If you live to be 1,000 years old, will that make any sense to you? Will that make any goddamn sense?” Because it’s so difficult to wrap my brain around these attacks, they seem unreal. To me, 9/11 seems like it should be our new collective myth; unfortunately, it’s our universal horrible truth.
What I find does correlate to Emerson’s ideas is Hollywood’s recent attempts to make big budget films (United 93, World Trade Center) based on the events that took place on September 11, 2001. Many have criticized production companies for allowing the movies to be made “too soon.” Others have condemned the creators for capitalizing on the pain, grief, and misfortune of others to make a profit.
Although I haven’t been brave enough to actually see any of the movies for fear of some odd emotional release that may or may not border on insanity (read: I’m a crier), I disagree with the films’ detractors. To me, it’s a matter of human nature: the innate need to document history, to tell these stories, to illustrate inspiring triumphs of the human spirit. After all, it was Emerson who said, “What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.” These movies are two in a growing collection of creative expressions that represent the action and aftermath of a turning point in our society. We have the beginnings of an updated canon of works of art that symbolize and define us as human beings living in a post-9/11 U.S. Like the young America in 1776 and the decades following, we live in a country during a time that no other nation can accurately detail.
Only we know what this feels like.
If you wanna watch the entirety of Dave's monologue after 9/11, click here.
I was aware that my “Off My Chest” column, published every Monday, fell on September 11th many weeks before I actually needed to get cracking on today’s article. Perhaps I was simply being impractically hard on myself, but I struggled a great deal with whether or not to comment on the fact that today is the five year anniversary of 9/11. Usually, I use this opportunity to vent on the latest pop cultural phenomenon that’s bugging me; my last three articles have featured verbal attacks on Lindsay Lohan, St. Louis jersey chasers, and my hatred for the word “panties.” However, I honestly cannot find the nerve (or perhaps the courage) to write about something so trivial or frivolous on such a significant day that undoubtedly troubles each and every one of us.
That being said, I wanted to ensure that I did not exploit today’s column as a means of expressing my political views or opinion about the war in Iraq. This is not that kind of website; I am not that kind of person. I would never take advantage of this position in order to dominate a little of your time with my political perspective. Who cares what I think, anyway? This topic is too meaningful to trigger the inevitable blasting of my thoughts all over the site’s message boards. In the spirit of a very necessary bipartisan viewpoint, I wondered for quite some time if I truly had any sort of opinion on 9/11 that could translate to something universal for us all, a common idea or emotion that resonates within us all. I hope I do this immense (at least, to me) undertaking some semblance of justice.
Let me act like a teacher for a second. When our country declared its independence from England in 1776, its members individually and collectively made exacting attempts to separate America’s foundation and ideals from those of England. To be more specific, our founding fathers and other innovative and scrupulous fellows yearned to establish a society that was drastically different from the oppressive nature of England’s former rule. This is why we have a democracy rather than a monarchy. They also desired to develop a culture that was unique and inventive, without a trace of influence from those uppity Brits. This is why, particularly in the realm of literature and other art forms, prominent new Americans called for a universal experience.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American author, poet, and philosopher, was one of these leaders. He sought literature that would unite a young America; in essence, he wanted to stop copying ideas and techniques from the British. He also believed that the new country should perpetuate a common myth to give the fledging society a sense of history and of folklore. These myths are still well-known today, including stories such as the first Thanksgiving, George Washington and the cherry tree, and Paul Bunyan and Babe, his blue ox. Granted, many of these tales are drastically sugarcoated or are utter fabrications. But, we all know them; we all heard them when we were children. They unite us as Americans (perhaps now only very minutely), and they are part of our familiar, collective experience.
What constitutes our modern day collective experience isn’t nearly so footloose and fancy free. We don’t typically elect political leaders who boast they “can never tell a lie.” We now see through the bullshit of glorified European-American and Native American relations. And I’m pretty sure that I’ve never seen a blue ox. Our reality, what we see in the news everyday, what we wake up to every morning, is simply dismal and frankly, downright scary in comparison. 9/11 was the ultimate blow to our country’s sense of success and security, abroad and within our own borders. Five years later, I’m still in disbelief and just profoundly sad.
Dave Letterman said it best in his first monologue after the attacks took place: “The reason we were attacked, the reason these people are dead, these people are missing and dead, and they weren’t doing anything wrong, they were living their lives… Another smaller group of people stole some airplanes and crashed them into buildings. We’re told that they were zealous, fueled by religious fervor… If you live to be 1,000 years old, will that make any sense to you? Will that make any goddamn sense?” Because it’s so difficult to wrap my brain around these attacks, they seem unreal. To me, 9/11 seems like it should be our new collective myth; unfortunately, it’s our universal horrible truth.
What I find does correlate to Emerson’s ideas is Hollywood’s recent attempts to make big budget films (United 93, World Trade Center) based on the events that took place on September 11, 2001. Many have criticized production companies for allowing the movies to be made “too soon.” Others have condemned the creators for capitalizing on the pain, grief, and misfortune of others to make a profit.
Although I haven’t been brave enough to actually see any of the movies for fear of some odd emotional release that may or may not border on insanity (read: I’m a crier), I disagree with the films’ detractors. To me, it’s a matter of human nature: the innate need to document history, to tell these stories, to illustrate inspiring triumphs of the human spirit. After all, it was Emerson who said, “What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.” These movies are two in a growing collection of creative expressions that represent the action and aftermath of a turning point in our society. We have the beginnings of an updated canon of works of art that symbolize and define us as human beings living in a post-9/11 U.S. Like the young America in 1776 and the decades following, we live in a country during a time that no other nation can accurately detail.
Only we know what this feels like.
If you wanna watch the entirety of Dave's monologue after 9/11, click here.
posted by quank at 12:17 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home