| Modiin, Manhattan, Modiin | |
I waited in Ben Gurion airport on September 7 with great excitement about my upcoming four-day family visit in Manhattan.
After a horrific year in Israel in which terrorist attacks and subsequent funerals followed one another so quickly that it was difficult to remember the names of those killed the day before, I was looking forward to a break from all the tension and sadness. After a year of being surrounded by the constant background noise of news reports filled with information about the latest attacks, I was looking forward to seeing the U.S. Open Finals and the Grammy Awards vie with each other for Headline News. After a year of feeling that it was better to spend time with my kids at home than out on the town, I was looking forward to walking hand-in-hand with my daughter through the Metropolitan Museum, Central Park and Times Square.
Our vacation in New York was everything I wanted it to be, until the morning of September 11. Just as I was zipping up my last suitcase and preparing myself emotionally for the trip back to Israel, we heard that an airplane had crashed into the World Trade Center. And then we saw the second plane hit, and it was clear to us that New York was under attack. I felt like I was back in Israel even though I had not yet boarded the plane.
As we watched the news with disbelief, the world around us was closing – the airports, the subway, Greyhound bus service, Manhattan bridges and tunnels. Suddenly, we were trapped. The city felt like a war zone, and we felt like we were under curfew.
After hours in the hotel with CNN reports of the tragedy ringing in our ears, we felt a need to get out and walk. The day before, bumper-to-bumper cars and elbow-to-elbow people made crossing the street a major challenge. Now we could walk up and down the middle of Broadway without even one car bothering us. The day before, energy seemed to radiate from the sidewalks as busy people hurried to work. Now, a heavy force seemed to be weighing down those we saw walking quietly, faces downcast, to nowhere. The day before, the city was filled with the sound of chatter and hustle. Now there was an eerie quiet that was punctured here and there by the sound of ambulances.
After another night in the hotel, we awoke feeling restless. The local channel was asking an expert whether the smoke from the burning towers was a health hazard. CNN was announcing a further delay in the opening of the airports; no international flights were leaving anyway. We were discussing who we could stay with the next night to avoid the high cost of another night in the hotel. Then the phone rang.
My brother, who was stranded at the LaGuardia Marriot after having been deboarded from his plane, said he had just found someone driving back into the city to return a rental van. Within half an hour, we were all outside the hotel with our bags, looking for a way to meet my brother and his beloved van. No taxis could be found. The hotel managed to get us a limousine service. The feeling in the city was so suffocating by then, I think we would have walked to meet my brother if necessary.
The 12-hour drive from New York to Ohio was a chance to calm our nerves. As we watched the scenery change, we tried to convince ourselves that we were distancing ourselves from the tragedy. Unfortunately, we were wrong. Every time we turned on the radio, we heard about the investigation of the terrorists, the phone calls made from the poor souls in the hi-jacked planes and the burning buildings, the New York firemen who had lost partners and friends when the buildings collapsed, … Every time we turned off the radio, images of frightened people on airplanes and terrified people jumping from burning buildings flashed in our minds.
When we woke up the next day in Ohio, we were surrounded by stories of victims and heroes: The seeing-eye dog that helped the blind man down from the 78th floor, the husband who told his pregnant wife to go on in her life and be happy, the people who returned to their offices after being told everything was okay. Thousands of lost lives.
After a few days in Ohio, I finally got myself booked on a plane back to Israel. On my way to the airport, I passed hundreds of high school children walking away from their school in orderly rows. They were being evacuated from their school due to a bomb threat.
I was wrong to think I could escape the feelings of tension and depression I felt all year in Israel by traveling to Manhattan, and wrong again to think I could escape the feelings of vulnerability and sadness I felt in Manhattan by traveling to Ohio. Terrorism is global and can target anyone.
On the plane back to Israel, I stared at my daughter as she slept next to me and wondered about her future in this new, post-September 11, 2001 world. Would this horrific event give the Americans the motivation and strength needed to wipe out this evil, foreign, long-armed, and well-concealed monster called terrorism? Or would it encourage more extremists to use terrorism as a way to achieve their goals?
~ Lisa Katz
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