Lest we Forget
The morning of September 11, 2001 I was working for the Kansas City Red Cross and, frankly, pretty miserable with my job and state of my life. I was constantly looking for something meaningful and on that morning I was thinking about a project with a friend who was a photographer. It was to be a book of veterans with a bit of their stories and their pictures and would be titled Lest we Forget.
I distinctly remember going to the bathroom just to get away from my desk and thinking about the horrors these World War vets had seen and that it was strange that some of the most beautiful stories often come from these same settings of pain. That the worst situations often provide an opportunity to see the best in people.
When I got back to my desk Larry, one of the disaster workers, pointed out that a plane had crashed into one of the World Trade towers. I distinctly remember saying to him, "gosh, I hope not too many people were hurt." At that time we didn't know what kind of plane but I assumed it was a small private plane. None of us had any idea of what was ahead. Within a few weeks I would be sent to Brooklyn to work, where I spent around a month (4 weeks? 6 weeks? I don't remember) working to process and assign volunteers throughout New York and saw some of the most beautiful acts of kindness, love, and generosity between strangers that I've ever seen.
The news from Norway last week made me think of this again and hope that some good will somehow come of this. How long, though, and how much sadness before we learn to be kind, loving, and generous in the absence of fear and pain?
My contribution: Tomorrow I will try to be kind and respectful to everyone I meet by looking them in the eye and listening to what they have to say before I try to say something. Before ordering my large decaf on ice I will remember to say hello and good morning to the cashier. I will have patience for the person going 12 mph in a 25 around the lake. You have no idea how difficult this last one will be!
I distinctly remember going to the bathroom just to get away from my desk and thinking about the horrors these World War vets had seen and that it was strange that some of the most beautiful stories often come from these same settings of pain. That the worst situations often provide an opportunity to see the best in people.
When I got back to my desk Larry, one of the disaster workers, pointed out that a plane had crashed into one of the World Trade towers. I distinctly remember saying to him, "gosh, I hope not too many people were hurt." At that time we didn't know what kind of plane but I assumed it was a small private plane. None of us had any idea of what was ahead. Within a few weeks I would be sent to Brooklyn to work, where I spent around a month (4 weeks? 6 weeks? I don't remember) working to process and assign volunteers throughout New York and saw some of the most beautiful acts of kindness, love, and generosity between strangers that I've ever seen.
The news from Norway last week made me think of this again and hope that some good will somehow come of this. How long, though, and how much sadness before we learn to be kind, loving, and generous in the absence of fear and pain?
My contribution: Tomorrow I will try to be kind and respectful to everyone I meet by looking them in the eye and listening to what they have to say before I try to say something. Before ordering my large decaf on ice I will remember to say hello and good morning to the cashier. I will have patience for the person going 12 mph in a 25 around the lake. You have no idea how difficult this last one will be!
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