September 11th: 25 Years Later

Like so many others, I'll always remember where I was that sunny Tuesday morning 25 years ago. I wrote this Vitriol column five days after the attacks, and this essay a year later. NJ.com recently asked readers to record their memories and reflections of 9-11 as a "living tribute," and in the process of preparing myself to record my own (yes, they spelled my name wrong, but it's OK), I came across a long-forgotten E-mail. It was a 'reply all' to an acquaintance and a number of people I didn't know, who were sharing their thoughts almost a year after 9-11, and so I shared mine:


As I don't drive, I was riding the bus to work on Tuesday, September 11, 2001. My routine at the time, since there was no direct route between the town in which I lived and the town in which I worked, was to take a bus to the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Manhattan and then another one from there back into Jersey to my job. That particular morning, I was running late and missed my regular bus to New York, and then there was a water main break on Tonnelle Avenue along the route of my bus to work, so instead of leaving the City on a 7:40 AM bus as usual, I didn't depart until 8:35 or so, and I missed being in New York when the first plane hit by less than fifteen minutes.

We'd almost arrived at my stop when I heard, over my earphones (I was listening to Elvis Costello at the time on my iBook), some loud but unclear announcement being made from the bus dispatcher to the drivers. I took off my earphones for a sec to hear the driver tell us that, apparently, a plane had hit the World Trade Center. That was all he knew, and it was all I knew until I got to work about ten minutes later. As I was walking toward the building, I saw other people looking into the sky behind me, so I turned, to see an incredible plume of smoke rising. (My office is maybe five miles from the site, though I can't see the actual skyline.) I still thought that it must have been a smallish plane, couldn't have been a jetliner, and that it was some horrid accident.

When I arrived at work, my co-workers were stunned, and waiting for me to find out what I could from the Internet. It was now maybe 9:30 AM, and there was very little info available on the 'Net, other than confirmation that SOMEthing had happened, and when the news came through that a second plane had hit the other tower, it became obvious that it had been no accident. As the morning stumbled along dazedly, more details, and pictures that couldn't be believed, started making their way onto the Web, and we learned that the Pentagon had also been hit, and that there were planes unaccounted-for that may have still been heading for targets. I realized that the Twin Towers would come down; I feared, however, that they'd fall over, not straight down. As horrible as it was that the heat made them collapse, I'm glad they were built so strong that they didn't topple over instead. But I knew there'd be a huge death toll...

My capitalist pig of a Company president finally agreed to let everyone go home in the early afternoon. No one could concentrate on work anyway, and the phone and fax lines were mostly down. I couldn't take a bus into or out of the City anymore, but one of my co-workers kindly offered to drive me home, and I accepted; we could see the horrible smoke still pouring into the sky along the trip. Several of my friends offered to pick me up at work also, knowing my predicament. I started thinking about my friend Alex; I knew she worked in Manhattan, but I wasn't sure exactly where, and as we only knew each other from the bus rides into NYC every morning, I didn't have any way of getting in touch with her. I found out several days later that she was fine, thankfully. In fact, incredibly enough, I don't know anyone who was there at the time, though I do know people who've lost friends or relatives.

Anyway, I got home OK, and made and received some phone calls, walked to Burger King for something to eat, and went to bed early. It was too numbing, and I knew that the world was going to be a different place after this. I just hoped that there wouldn't be too many more innocent deaths to follow.


Even now, it's sobering to read my own words and remember how that day felt, and the days and weeks after it. And my own story is unremarkable, one of countless, a bit more dramatic than some but so much less harrowing and painful than many others. We were branded by the events of 9-11, and that brand will never be fully worn away.

Three More Weeks of Summer!

School's back in, some of the mornings lately have felt distinctly autumn-like, and yes, Halloween stuff has been in the stores for weeks now (argh)... but summer ain't over yet. Labor Day notwithstanding, fall and the equinox don't arrive until the night of the 22nd, astronomically speaking. And I love speaking astronomically. I don't know about you, but I need to get in at least one more trip down the shore.

I went to my first general admission, better-bring-earplugs show in too long last month to see the rock band Plush. The all-female trio rocked the hell out of Teaneck's Debonair Music Hall, as did their supporting acts Hunter Road and Major Moment. I partook of the VIP meet-and-greet with Plush before the show and got autographs and a photo with the band. I don't think I'll be returning to my old live-music schedule, but it was great to feel the energy of a performance like that again, and I'm sure I'll be doing it again before too long.

Ashley, Faith, Moriah, and me

Gina and I got away for a weekend down in Cape May and Wildwood this August, squeezing in visits to our beloved Harry's of Cape May and Willow Creek Winery, another incredible dinner at Tisha's Fine Dining, and a hearty lunch at Mermaids Restaurant. We walked the Washington Street Mall and the Wildwood boardwalk, did some antiquing, and got in some beach time, too.

In other news, I attended a state career fair last month, the first time I've gone to any kind of job fair. It was a little overwhelming, but a good experience, and I reached out to several departments within the state in hopes of employment. We shall see...

Sadly, we lost Hayden Panettiere, Frank Beard, Dolly Parton, and Tim Curry (among other notable and non-notable people) in August. Believe it or not, I'd never seen "Heroes" (beyond catching a few minutes while idly channel-surfing a long time ago) before deciding to check it out on Netflix this July. I finished the series finale the week before Hayden's passing, which made it that much more immediate and gut-wrenching. I never saw ZZ Top live, but love their music, and beardless Frank's drumming is as essential to their sound as Billy Gibbons' guitar. My dad listened to a lot of country music when I was growing up, which probably contributed to my early distaste of it, but I learned to appreciate a lot of it later in life (particularly the 'old-school' country of Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Waylon Jennings, etc.). While I probably couldn't have named more than half a dozen Dolly songs, while streaming some of her music last weekend, I was surprised to realize just how many tunes I recognized and remembered. She was a terrific human being in addition to an amazing songwriter and musician, so you don't have to be a fan of the music to feel the loss of the person. And of course Tim Curry was a fun and zany actor, first seen by many of us (myself included) as Dr. Frank-N-Furter in "The Rocky Horror Picture Show", who went on to so many great roles in so many great (and some not so great) films. He, truly, did the rock.

I've got an anniversary and a birthday this month. Brazil will be celebrating 204 years of independence from Portugal on the 7th (Sete de Setembro). Apple's "Surprise and shine" event is on 9-9, and nein, I don't think I can skip upgrading my iPhone this year. My 12 Pro is going to be six years old next month, as will my Series 6 Apple Watch, and while they're both still working fine (though the phone does have two screen cracks, and the watch's battery doesn't always last me the whole day on one charge), I believe I'm finally ready to replace them. Happy birthday (month) to me... ♩

June

It's June 6th. Many years ago today ("It's been 84 years, and I can still smell the fresh paint..."), I was one of many young men in my Paterson, NJ high school protesting the dress code (no shorts for guys, despite the heat) by wearing a skirt in school. (We got the policy changed!) Even more years before that, over 150,000 Allied soldiers invaded Normandy to liberate France (and much of western Europe) from Nazi Germany. Civil rights activist James Meredith was shot on this day in 1966 during the Walk Against Fear; five years later, "The Ed Sullivan Show" broadcast its last episode (a rerun, and yes, it took place in the Ed Sullivan Theater where Stephen Colbert was hosting "The Late Show" until recently). In 1982, the second (!) Israeli invasion of Lebanon began on 6 June. And thirteen years ago today, my then-fiancée and I met with our intended officiant to discuss our impending nuptials (a month and a half later, we were no longer engaged, but I don't think it had anything to do with the reverend...).

The 37th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre just passed, too. I guess I'm trying to say that June is a hell of a month. It's Pride month, despite an awful lot of people (or is that a lot of awful people?) still not understanding that LGBTQIA+ people are still just people, deserving of the same unalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness the rest of us feel entitled to. There's Flag Day on the 14th. Juneteenth happens this month. So does the solstice (the start of summer or winter, depending on whether you're north or south of the equator). Ashura falls on the 26th this year.

Preparem-se, o hexa está chegando! (Hopefully.) Yes, the World Cup starts this month. ⚽ I'm dreading what it's going to do to traffic (I live less than three miles from MetLife New York New Jersey Stadium as the corvid flies), and I'm not generally a fan of noisy, rambunctious (and inebriated) crowds, but I just might venture out to one of the local-ish events in June. We'll see. I'd have loved to have attended a match in person, and I wouldn't have even needed hotel accommodations, but the ticket prices are just astronomical, so... no.

I've been playing guitar regularly for the past several weeks, which is an awesome and much-needed feeling. (Bass, too, after finally restringing that thing.) A new song or two should result in June. Hopefully I can get back to the beach (or "down the shore") at least once or twice this month, too. Maybe to the Coney Island Mermaid Parade again...

OK, one thing that's not happening this month, though: Andersen Silva is not participating in UFC Freedom 250 on the South Lawn. Stop asking! I won't do it. Thppt!

I May... but I May Not

Happy May Day. It's also another Bandcamp Friday, so yeah, I'm plugging "Dangerous Babies" again. I know I'm biased, but it just seems to fit the times so well.


I'm well-pleased to report that not only am I playing guitar regularly again (every day for the past week and a half or so, and my calluses are building back up), I've also started working on a few new bits and pieces. Oughta be a new song or three coming out in the not-so-distant future. OK, that's probably more music to my ears than to yours, but still.

Hopefully, the Subvert platform will be live soon, and a new forum for me to share the new music. I've finally gotten around to uploading the I'll Live album there, and I'd like to see good things happen.

Can the rain and the wind and the heat and the cold all just pipe down already?!? I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use a string of seasonably/reasonably warm sunny days without 30mph gusts. I'll meet you outside...

ICE Out! National Shutdown

In support of today's National Shutdown, I'm not going to work (ha) or shop today. This country is in serious need of an ICE breaker. Whatever your feelings on immigration (I'm the son of immigrants, and have had countless immigrant friends, classmates, neighbors, and colleagues), it's clear that putting masked, jackbooted thugs on the ground in American cities, on the streets of Minneapolis and elsewhere, is not what the people want.

The majority of immigrants in this country, documented or otherwise, are not violent criminals. The agencies involved in rounding them up appear to deny their very humanity, however, and we have cases like:

• Maher Tarabishi, a Texas man whose detention may have caused his chronically ill son's death, and who was denied temporary releases to see his son on his hospital deathbed and to attend the funeral
• Milagros Solis Portillo, a California woman who suffered a medical episode when she was detained, then was forcibly removed from the hospital and transferred to Indiana
• Harol Alvarado Rodriguez, a New Jersey man grabbed on his way to work and transferred to four immigration detention centers in four different states since December

Then there are those who have died in ICE detention. And who can talk about ICE and death without mentioning American citizens Alex Pretty, and Renée Good (both from Minnesota), and Keith Porter, Jr. (from California)? But then American citizens have their heads in the sand if they think they're automatically safe from this administration.

Slowing or stopping immigration, and repatriating immigrants already here, should not result in death, serious injury, or separation of young children from their parents. It should not result in people being disappeared. Peacefully protesting these reprehensible and inhuman actions should not result in death. Citizen, documented resident, or undocumented, we are all human and we all demand to be treated as such.

Last year's Oscar winner for best international feature film, "Ainda Estou Aqui" ("I'm Still Here"), and this year's Golden Globe winner for best foreign language film (and Oscar nominee for best picture and best international feature film), "O Agente Secreto" ("The Secret Agent"), are both Brazilian films set during the military dictatorship in that country (where my parents were from). Brazil suffered that dictatorship (not its first) for over 20 years before returning to democratic civilian rule. Brazilian citizens were detained, tortured, killed, disappeared. And Brazil is hardly unique. Bullies and assholes have always existed, and sadly probably always will. Doesn't mean we stand silently by or make excuses for them.