The Furious Spinner

Listening to Natalie Merchant's Motherland. It always reminds me of 9/11 and my visit home when my father was ailing—because that's around the time I bought the CD. It was a terrible time, wasn't it? Sometimes I think I'm stuck there, in that morning. I know terrible things happen all the time. Terrible things happen in other countries that we as Americans know nothing about—or pay little attention to. That morning, September 11, I awakened from a really good sleep. I don't normally have very good sleeps. (Is that a word?) I awakened smiling. I thought, "Everything is going to be all right." It was almost like a mantra in my head. I thought for the first time in a long whil, that everything was going to be all right.

For some reason I went downstairs and checked our voice message. It was before 9:00 a.m., so no one would have called. But I had four messages on our voice mail. My heart started racing. I knew something bad had happened. What if something had happened to my father? Fortunately the first message was from my father. His voice was very stern, talking quickly, "Kim, Kim, turn on your television." Then three other messages. I don't remember who they were from. I was now shouting to Mario, "Oh no, oh no, oh no." "What? What?" He was getting ready for work. "Turn on the TV," I said. "Turn on the TV." I saw the smoke pouring out of the twin towers. Was that a jet crashing into it? "Oh no, oh no, oh no."

I remember I wanted Mario to stay home. I don't think he understood. I can still see him getting ready for work as I'm weeping and he's watching me, his look perplexed. I knew something irrevocable had happened. Something that would change the world forever—not "just" because all those people had died. But because of what would happen next.

I remember I wanted to see the President that day. Which was strange since I don't like George Bush. But I wanted to see him. I wanted him there, live on TV, explaining what had happened. But he never showed up. I don't remember if anyone from the government ever showed up. Do you? I thought if this had happened when Clinton was in office, he would have been down at ground zero within hours. Giuliani. We saw Giuliani. I was impressed by him during those first hours (and days).

A few weeks after 9/11, Mario and I drove home to see my parents. By the time we arrived, the war with Afghanistan had started, I was sick, and my father was sicker. It was an awful visit. Because my father was so ill, he didn't really want anyone around. Because I was sick and stressed, I took this personally, and all the old feelings we often felt as a child—we were unloved, unwanted, uncherished—came roaring to the surface.

About a month after Mario and I got back home, I started a novel, Forks in the Road. I wrote it in about two weeks, or less, about a woman's trip to Michigan to visit her ailing father. I normally do not write about myself fictionally. I like writing stories and novels about other people. But this novel was clearly a fictionalized account of my trip back home. The first half of the book was the best work I've ever done. The second half has problems, so I've never done anything with the novel. Maybe I'll post some pages later today.

I just heard a police siren. It reminds me I have to get ready for the peace rally. I've decided not to go into Portland for that demonstration after our local rally here. I'm not certain any of these achieve anything—except community, which is a good thing. And my community is here. It's sunny, cold, and windy. I'll bundle up soon and walk the two blocks to the protest. On this Equinox day, I wish for balance. I wish for good health, peace, and compassion for all.

When I was a girl, I remember I longed for someone to tell me it was going to be all right. I just wanted to hear those words, even if they weren't true. Funny the things we want as a child. I fantasize that in a true Motherland, where Nature is revered, every child would be held close. Every child would hear what s/he needed to hear every night before she drifted off to sleep, "Shhhh. Everything's going to be all right, sugar." And it would be true.

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