Patriot Day @ MindSay

Some thoughts going through my head this morning...

1 - It really bothers me when people refer to the day as "nine-one-one."  I can deal with "nine-eleven" or "September eleventh" but to me "nine-one-one" is an emergency services phone number.

2 - Getting to work today is going to be a bitch, and I'll be leaving soon.  All of the roads around the Pentagon that I usually take to get in are closed for the memorial dedication this morning.  I thought about taking the bus in today, but the Pentagon bus depot is also closed until evening rush hour, which means I would be sitting in traffic on a bus rather than in my car.  I should really not be blogging, but instead getting my behind out of here so that I can sit in traffic longer.  But would it have been so bad for the Federal Government to give us a delayed start to the workday today?

3 - I - of all people - completely understand the need to memorialize and remember.  Reading the names, remembering the innocent victims, memorials - all that.  No problem.  I also know that as we get older and we get farther away from the actual event, it will become more difficult for the younger generations to have a personal connection to the days events, since they were not born when it occurred.

4 - I think "Patriot Day" is kind of a stupid name.  Now I have no problem making September 11th a Day of Remembrance.  I just think that the name is dumb.  But I'm not a member of Congress, nor do I have any alternate suggestions.

5 - I miss my rose plant (aka "Norma") that was given to me by one of the slugs (it's a DC commuter thing) that I spontaneously gave a ride home to on 9/11/01.  She was doing alright until a colleague took it upon herself to "prune the plant to encourage regrowth" without asking me first if it was OK.  This totally stripped my plant bare, and then I came in two days later to find that housekeeping threw it out - since it looked like a totally dead plant.  I was annoyed, and the colleague didn't even apologize or consider for a second that it was none of her business to touch my plant.  I guess she didn't realize why it was important to me - it wasn't just an everyday "thank you" plant.  Thankfully, I don't sit next to that person any more, but yeah...I'm still a little bitter about it.

As Shiny mentioned, this morning we went to the Alexandria Arts Festival.  In thinking about September 11th and how we should remember this day, we both agreed that spending it together with your community was the best way to go. Here in Washington, there were so many choices for what to do today it was a bit overwhelming.  There was the Freedom Walk sponsored by the Pentagon which went from there down to the National Mall.  There was also a Redskins game, a Nationals game, and seven (7!) different neighborhood festivals to choose from.  We chose to avoid crossing the Potomac, and had a wonderful morning spent at the Arts Festival, got some great pieces of artwork, listened to some live music, ate lunch, and hit the playground. 

After Av's nap, I took him out to the fabric store and he helped me pick out some fun fabrics for the Project Linus quilts I plan on making.  He was rather keen on the red with white polka dots.  But I found it interesting that today he began asking "Can I go..." rather than :"I NEED to go..."   But I digress.

This evening we continued our time with our community by going to schul for a BBQ.  I would just like to say how proud I am of my son for eating part of a BEEF hamburger!!!!  The gathering was rather low key, but what I found interesting is that not once did I hear any talk of what happened on this day four years ago.  That is not to say that some people did not have that conversation, but we did not.  For us it was talking about the schul, playing Jewish geography (everyone we meet seems knows at least one person in Shiny's family!), talking about our kids, and grumbling that there weren't enough hamburgers and too many hot dogs. 

Perhaps everyone already had their 9/11 conversations and wanted to discuss other things.  After all, this congregation is only about 5 miles away from The Pentagon and all of us in the area were affected by the events of 4 years ago.  I've read a lot in the past few days about how people are worried that the impact of 9/11/01 will be forgotten and it will once again be another day on the calendar, like Pearl Harbor Day.  I don't see that happening anytime soon, but I think it will - it's inevitable, much like the original meaning of Memorial Day and Labor Day.   But in the meantime, I felt that we had the perfect way of spending the day - together as a community and hoping that this will be the only event like this in our lifetimes that we will have to worry about commemorating.

Today has been a good day for us thus far. The three of us headed to Old Town Alexandria, VA for the annual Alexandria Festival of the Arts. They close down the main drag (King Street) to vehicular traffic, and 200-some artists set up their booths in the center of the roadway for several blocks. We ended up buying four prints. There's also a stage with performances by local musical acts. And, of course, there was a playground nearby which we often frequent.

I had noticed that the flags on the plaza in the center of town -- a US flag, a Commonwealth of Virginia flag, and a City of Alexandria flag -- were all at half-mast. I then remembered why: it was in observance of Patriot Day. I mentioned this to socks -- she had just assumed, as it had been all week, that the flags were that way due to the recent death of Justice Rhenquist. I guess we were all about in a very happy atmosphere (and in absolutely amazing weather today!) that it didn't seem as much as a day of mourning. We were both aware of the date -- and I think we always will be aware of September 11 every year to come in our lives. But I think our observance was a nice one: to quote President Bush's proclamation of Patriot Day for 2005, "I call upon all our citizens to express their patriotism and their gratitude for the blessings of liberty. By flying the flag, supporting military families, and teaching young people about our founding ideals, we honor the lives lost on September 11, 2001, and since, and we help preserve our freedom for future generations." Freedom of expression through artistic creativity is certainly an example of one of our dear liberties. And avi certainly searched out as many police officers and fire engines as he could to give them a smile and a wave.

I'd like to share something I wrote the week after September 11, 2001. I delivered it as a sermon at Rosh HaShanah (Jewish New Year) services at the University of Virginia where I was officiating. The subject is that of the blasting of the shofar, the ram's horn fashioned into a kind of trumpet which is sounded on Rosh HaShanah as well as every day in the month leading up to it.

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For years to come, people will be asking us where we were and what we were doing on September 11, 2001.

I was at work. I work in a high tech internet communications campus in Ashburn, Virginia.

For those of you who know the Washington, DC area, this is a high-tech area on the western side of Dulles Airport. Our closest neighbor is another high-tech headquarters. I won’t mention its full name, but the company’s initials are A.O.L.

So I’m at work – it’s a high tech call center. Each of us is at his or her own workstation, testing remote equipment, talking to customers, reading and writing email. On the wall in front of us, in usual fashion, are multiple video screens showing, without audio, CNN, CNBC, CNN Headline News and the Weather Channel. Our company uses these channels to help isolate possible issues with our clientele.

Then, the voices around me started. People pointed to our video screens. We began to see the terror unfold before our eyes. The scrolling banner on the screens filled us in quickly. When tragedy struck the Pentagon minutes later, everyone scrambled to our desk phones and cel phones to call those we loved to make sure we were okay. However, the phone circuits, landline and cel, in Northern Virginia were already clogged, making it very difficult to find an outside line.

Some of us typed at a furious pace to log onto websites. Ironically, since the entire world was trying to log onto cnn.com or msnbc, those of us trying to get news were only successful by reaching news sites at the BBC, Germany, Australia, Singapore or even Israel.

Many of us were panicked. In an age of such ease of global communication, some of us were in the dark. We had been so used to constant connectivity that the few moments of being cut off from the rest of the world made us feel quite alone.

But then came the sounds which then broke the near-silence.

We heard, and were part of, the sound of Instant Messaging. You know that sound. The three tones going up when you receive a message, and the three tones going down once you send one.

And what a comforting sound it was. Computer after computer, row after row, people were communicating once again. There was still a heightened sense of emergency in the air, but at least we were connected. In lieu of the phone, some were making plans to pick up the kids and head home. Some were already home and providing updates from the news. Sure, there were people speaking out loud. But many of us were typing, pressing Enter, hearing those tones which indicated that our messages have been sent, and waited the few seconds for the alert to come back to us – telling us that a message had come back. Somehow, this repetitive sound seemed to let us know that life, however shaken up it may have been, was giving us a sense of familiarity. It let us know that we were communicating again. We didn’t hear words, but the message was still there.

You’ve probably figured out by now where I’m going with this.

The shofar has been a symbol of communication for countless generations. The sound is so distinct to us. When it is sounded today, I bet you’ll find lots of people here in Newcomb Hall (UVA's student union building) perking up and trying to figure out what it is. And if you were walking around campus and heard it, however, you’d probably pick up on what it was almost instantaneously. Hearing the sound of the shofar has always been a sound of comfort for me – something I could recognize as belonging to my community.

As we sound the shofar this year, we hear different types of tones. The “tekiah” – a loud sustained tone, familiar to us. The sound reminds us of triumph and joy.

On the other hand, we also sound the “shevarim” and “tru’ah” – which are broken blasts of the shofar. Shevarim, in fact, means “broken.” The Shevarim symbolizes the happiness and exaltation of the Tekiah – but broken. Some will equate the Shevraim and the Tru’ah – which turns into short, staccato blasts, as the rhythmic sobbing of one who grieves.

Today, if you’re looking for a shofar, you’d probably need to look in a Judaica store. But if you were to look generations back, you’d probably have to go to an arms dealer, for it was used as the primary communications tool in war. In Biblical times, military commanders and officers used the shofar to communicate important signals to their troops, and similarly, civil defense personnel used the shofar to warn civilians of possible attack and to mobilize reserves. Therefore, in a manner similar to one's gut reaction to the sound of a siren today, the sound of a tru'ah in biblical times meant immediate danger. Hearing that sound was associated with going to battle or being under attack.

It’s an interesting dichotomy – a call of happiness and strength, then one of alarm? Why are both sounded together?

Rabbi Ben Ish Chai explains by means of a story. A man had a ring specially made for him. Upon this ring, he had engraved the words "This, too, will pass." If he were troubled and in pain, he would look at his ring and remember that the suffering would eventually end. This thought comforted him. During times of happiness and comfort, he would gaze at the ring as well. He would realize that his wealth and good fortune could change for the worst in an instant. Good times are not forever. He would recognize that there was no reason to become conceited and haughty over circumstances which were beyond his control and could turn adverse without any warning. This ring reminded the man that all in his life had to be put in perspective, and that one should live his life neither complacent nor despondent.

The tekiah, the first sound, is a sound of joy and happiness. Immediately after we hear the long exultant blast, we hear the shevarim and teruah. These are both sounds of sadness, pain and suffering. The stark contrast between these sounds is intentional. We are supposed to remember while listening to the shofar that we cannot forget tragedy during times of contentment, and we cannot let ourselves let our heads get too big from our achievements. Success can quickly turn into failure. Only with God's help did we prosper, and only with God's help will we continue to do so. However, upon hearing the sorrowful sound of the Shofar, we should not think that in times of suffering God has abandoned us. We should not become depressed and despondent. Right after these blasts, we sound a tekiah again, to signify that it is possible to return to a state of jubilation again.

The voice of the shofar can be one of an alarm – a wake-up call for us to be ready and alert for any misfortune which comes our way. But that same instrument can be used to express victory and accomplishment, as it has in the past. As you listen to the blasts of the shofar, I hope you feel its comfort as I have – in its call to the community of hope and triumph.

Shanah Tovah.

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Acknowledgements to my brother, Rob, to Rabbi Yehuda Prero, and to Menachem Leibtag for some of the ideas written here.