9/11 Rules

In reviewing guidelines drafted separately for US government entities overseas and here at home, the New York Times calls the USA the President’s “nation.”  They probably won’t print my response, which calls the USA our nation, a nation of immigrants and hopeful and hardworking people.

Words from the White House are rife with alliteration, i.e.  “We honor and celebrate the resilience of individuals, families, and communities on every continent, whether in New York or Nairobi, Bali or Belfast, Mumbai or Manila, or Lahore or London.”  The White House tells government entities here and abroad how to “spin” the 10th anniversary of 9/11.

In my response to the NYTimes review I asked that survivors and those who lost loved ones on that fateful day be able to have their own backyard bbq’s without interference from spy agencies.  One opinion states that the writer commemorates 9/11 every time he/she goes to the airport and gets a full body scan and pat-down.

For me, I would like to say Grazie, Firenze, thank you Florence and the people of Italy.  Yes, I was “stuck” there for an extra week and was oh, so happy to land on the tarmac in San Diego and go home.

I held hands with 500 Italians in the Piazza Signoria during three minutes of silence and then the tolling of one bell.  I went to church with members of the US Consulate staff, and one lady asked me out for coffee.

The Consulate told me every day that no flights were going out to the US, then I walked down to the airline office and they told me the same thing.  I finally had to fly to Rome a week later to get out.  But the Consulate staff, seeing me in a sleeveless dress one day, said they could get me to Labrador, in Northern Canada but they didn’t think I’d appreciate being stuck there given my summer wardrobe!

While the Italians were wonderful, I only wanted to get home and find out if my friends were OK. Two weeks later I met my husband, because Americans were actually talking to each other, to strangers (I heard that for a short time even New Yorkers were nice).

Thank you, Italy, for your care and concern over 9/11.  Thanks to the neighbors who spoke no English but pounded on our door shouting “CNN, CNN!!!” and to the computer technician, electrician and delivery man who watched with us as the unthinkable happened.  Thanks to the photography place who developed my photos and sold me albums so I could document my father’s 70th birthday trip while watching CNN International for three solid days.  Thanks to the Consulate, which is now heavily guarded and not accessible to Americans any more.  They even closed a main street in Florence for their own safety.

Thanks to the people, to the churches, to all those who reached out to the US expats and visitors in those dark days.  No, I wasn’t in NYC, I was abroad and it gives me a different view.  Thanks to the Customs Officer at LAX who said “Welcome home.”  I cried.  I cried to be home, for those lost forever, for their families.  No-one can tell me how to commemorate 9/11.  I don’t care if you’re the president.  We are Americans and this is our shared nation, not yours alone.  Dee