Have you seen my duct tape?

Well the National Terror Alert has officially been raised to orange, and the powers that be are advising us to run for our lives. Well, not quite, but I do so love the advice they're giving to a nation already on the verge of a collective breakdown (Ashcroft, you're such a damn tease!). Duct tape. That's their advice: duct tape. In the event of a biological or chemical attack, we are to duct tape plastic over our windows so we'll be safe from those pesky poisons. Ok. So as a result of these brilliant words of wisdom duct tape and plastic covering are flying off the shelves at local Home Depots across the nation. {Sigh}

Was the world always this scary a place? 'Cause I don't remember this kind of fear ever. It's been a long time since I felt this vulnerable to the kind of hate and evil that seem to be permeating our planet at the moment. And I know this is only because I was fortunate enough to be born into a place that has, for the short amount of time it has existed, never experienced the kind of horror that a lot of places see on a fairly regular basis. It's difficult for us as Americans to understand the mindset of the masses that leads to the kind of destruction that we see on television daily and are now under threat of right here at home. Where is the quality of life when people seem to think nothing of strapping a bomb to their bodies (or putting their bodies in a vessel that they plan on slamming into the side of a building) and walking into a crowded place? What purpose does this violence serve, and what ends do these people mean to achieve. Becuase I can tell you it isn't peace they're after. Which is illiogical to me, because my first human instinct is to survive, above all. And we're not going to survive very long if this keeps up.

But it all leads me to wonder what life is like for these people. How bad must it be for them to choose death in order to make a point. And while the point is made, surely they must know by now that ultimately nothing is going to change. It's just going to lead to more death and destruction. And for what? That is my question: For what?

The last time I remember being this afraid for my (and our collective) existence was in sixth grade when my history teacher (social studies, they called it then) told us that if there was ever a nuclear war we wouldn't have to concern ourselves with it because we'd be dead before we realized what happened. Thanks, Mr Butler, 'cause that's a concept my 11-year-old brain wants to wrap itself around. That one lesson he gave terrified me for an entire year. I was convinced that the wolrd was going to come to an end long before I even hit high school. I was plagued by nightmares depicting the melting of flesh that he assured us would be our fate.

This was back in the early '80s. A time when Russia was our biggest threat. Of course, the Cold War was winding down when I was coming of age. And I remember witnessing some wonderful events, signs that our world may yet make it. And eventually the country watched the most spectacularly hysterical piece of footage ever shot: the President of the United States cackling like a ninny while standing next to the President of Russia, who looked fairly uncomprehending, but was laughing right alongside Clinton just the same. I felt safe when I saw that video, and to this day I enjoy a hearty belly laugh when I view it.

So I guess I generally felt safe right up until September 11. After that, my school-girl fears came racing back and here we are. I remember over a year ago I was taken by ambulance to the hospital after having a seizure in a class I was taking at Curry. In the ambulance the attendant saw my press pass, concluded I was a member of the media, and instead of asking me questions one would normally be asked after an event like this, he asked a single question, "Have you opened any suspicious packages lately?" Holy hell. He was considering anthrax exposure. Anthrax! I assured him I had not and we went on from there. But, I mean, Jeez, he had just confirmed with that one question all my fears. No one is safe. And to this day I open my mail with surgical gloves on. Just kidding.

The Devil: "And is Man any the less destroying himself for all this boasted brain of his? Have you walked up and down upon the earth lately? I have; and I have examined Man's wonderful inventions. And I tell you that in the arts life Man invents nothing; but in the arts of death He outdoes Nature herself, and produces by chemistry and machinery all the slaughter of plague, pestilence, and famine."

--from Man and Superman by Bernard Shaw

16 minutes from home

"The Columbia is lost. There are no survivors."
-President Bush, Feb. 2, 2003

Those words still echo in my head; they haunt me. The astronauts were 16 minutes from home. They had orbited the earth for 16 days and now they were coming home, but they never made it. Sixteen minutes from home. The world watched with held breath as the Columbia made its final, deadly descent from the heavens and seven souls were lost to us. Sixteen minutes from home. We watched and prayed and cried because there was nothing else to do.

Investigators now are thinking that the shuttle's fate was likely sealed shortly after takeoff when a piece of insulating foam broke off from the rocket booster and struck the Columbia's left wing. I wonder if the mission could have been aborted before the shuttle broke free from earth's atmosphere on its way to the heavens. If not, then the whole time the astronauts were living their dream of flying high above the planet, their doom awaited them at the point of re-entry. I'm horrified by the thought.

Tragedies like this always seem to bring people together. There's a collective mourning that strengthens the fiber of our country and our humanity. It's sad that it takes something like this for us to find a common ground, but I suppose it humbles us all to experience such loss and realize our mere mortality. Of course, television brings these horrifying events into our living rooms and gives them a dimension that no other medium can achieve. The best example of this is September 11. The nation, indeed the world, stood silent that devastating Tuesday morning, and the loss reached across the ether and touched each of our lives. We all remember where we were that morning, as undoubtedly we will never forget where we were when we heard of the loss of the shuttle and its crew.

When something like this happens I often find myself reflecting on the tragedies that have befallen us as a people that are seared into our collective memories and lead us to declare that things must change, and vow that we must work to make the world a better place. These things remind us of the the brevity of our time here, and the utter uncertainty of our existence. And they make us question. Surely, they make us weep.

Our only consolation as we lay these brave pioneers to rest is that their final view was of the beauty and fragility of Mother Earth. They saw a world of peace, a world without borders, a world where man lives as one. This was their final gift. And for that we are grateful.

They were sixteen minutes from home. God rest their souls.