There has been much talk from liberal commentators during this anniversary week that the “new normal” that was supposed to follow the attacks of September 11 was either short-lived or altogether illusory. I could not disagree more. Five years later, I remain haunted by that morning and I do not think I am alone.
For my generation, September 11 marked the first time our country had been stung and it carried with it a new and disturbing sense of national vulnerability. For the first time, I began to question American dominance in more than just a theoretical way. No longer were we impervious and untouchable. The safety that was taken for granted as I went about my life could no longer be taken for granted. After all, the attacks were aimed at civilians, just like me, going about their daily routine. The attackers were aiming at all of us.
I remember sitting alone in my apartment that morning in utter shock, spending the entire day glued to the television. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and checking the news with hopes that the whole tragedy had been somehow imagined. My law school classes were cancelled the next day, leaving me with nothing to do but worry and wait, growing more aware by the minute that the certainty of September 10 would not be returning any time soon.
What I remember most about the immediate aftermath was the unnerving sense that anything was possible. At that point, we did not know if September 11 was only the beginning of something even more diabolical. We did not know then that the next five years would pass without another attack on American soil.
In the five years since September 11, the events of that day have been used by various individuals and groups for all sorts of purposes. Both political parties have used September 11 to suit their political needs; the government has been particularly successful in capitalizing on the patriotism that followed the attacks to push various items on its agenda; a terrorism industry has sprouted; the 9/11 commission sought to provide a definitive account of what went wrong; lately, Hollywood has weighed in with movies.
But through all this, for me at least, the core of raw emotion unleashed that morning remains.
I am reminded often of the attacks – every time I see a skyscraper or an airplane, certainly every time I’m on an airplane – and each time I am returned to the fear of that morning. I find myself shaking my head, still in shock at such a traumatic event. Making the national trauma personal, I have had several dreams relating to the attacks and I have great difficulty watching coverage of the attacks.
So while it may be true that my every day life has returned more or less to September 10 normalcy – at least on the days when I am not at the airport, from which convenience departed long ago – it is not at all true that the “new normal” that followed September 11 is gone. I am still adjusting to living in a country that is vulnerable and in a world where people who know nothing about me or my beliefs want to kill me.
Five years later, I am still haunted by September 11, 2001.
Showing posts with label Personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Personal. Show all posts
September 08, 2006
March 03, 2006
Newborn Perspective
Since I wrote my last column, much has happened in the world. Judge Alito was confirmed as Justice Alito. Global rioting resulted from the publication of controversial cartoons depicting Muhammad. Most recently, there is uproar over control of American ports potentially being run by a company based in the United Arab Emirates.
Even on issues I’ve written about most often, there were developments. The genocidal crisis in Darfur has spilled across the border into Chad and the Bush Administration’s attempts to increase the involvement of both NATO and the UN have fallen largely on deaf international ears. (Click here if you’d like to sign a postcard to the Bush Administration urging action in Darfur as part of an effort to send a million postcards by the end of April – www.millionvoicesfordarfur.org). On torture, two low-level dog handlers within the army are to be sentenced for their actions while those who allowed – even encouraged – torture are not held accountable. Representatives of Google, Yahoo, Microsoft, and Cisco were brought before Congress to testify as to their activities in China. And on tort reform, our Vice-President infamously fired the first shot in a quest to reform the system by eliminating the lawyers.
In short, the past month has not been short of interesting social and political activity.
Yet, I have paid little attention to the world. Instead, I am concerned with issues like wet burps, clogged tear ducts, and dirty diapers. Lots of dirty diapers. My wife and I are meticulously tracking eating and sleeping patterns. We have spent far more time listening to Twinkle, Twinkle than to NPR. It is a major cause for excitement when our daughter is able to do something as simple as bringing her hand directly to her mouth. Watching her grow and develop and experience something new every day is incredible, and it is a reminder of what we all truly care about.
This past month has driven home the point that thinking, talking, or writing about political and social issues is truly a luxury. Instead, it is the day-to-day challenge of raising a family, a task that requires unwavering commitment and attention, that rightfully gets top priority.
I would argue that this is the way most Americans confront politics – they may be important, but they are secondary to the challenges of everyday life. We don’t have the time, or frankly, the attention span, required to be fully engaged and informed citizens. Instead, we focus our limited energies on our core concerns – is my family healthy? Is my family safe? Any free time we have is spent doing something far more interesting than reviewing public policies.
And while the proper perspective is essential when discussing politics, I firmly believe that these discussions are important. It does matter who our leaders are. It does matter who sets the local or national agenda. It does make a difference which way an issue turns. In fact, these outcomes often affect the way we live our day-to-day lives as part of a larger community.
So when I watch Sadie striving to do something new, I see not only an adorable distraction from the world we live in (check out the picture – she really is adorable), but the very reason to be engaged with that world. It is precisely because these small things are my top priority that I must also care about the larger issues we face together. And while it may be difficult to focus on anything beyond the sound of a baby’s cry – and it grows more and more difficult every day, I’m learning – we owe it to our families to do so. After all, it is their world as much as our’s that we are shaping.
Even on issues I’ve written about most often, there were developments. The genocidal crisis in Darfur has spilled across the border into Chad and the Bush Administration’s attempts to increase the involvement of both NATO and the UN have fallen largely on deaf international ears. (Click here if you’d like to sign a postcard to the Bush Administration urging action in Darfur as part of an effort to send a million postcards by the end of April – www.millionvoicesfordarfur.org). On torture, two low-level dog handlers within the army are to be sentenced for their actions while those who allowed – even encouraged – torture are not held accountable. Representatives of Google, Yahoo, Microsoft, and Cisco were brought before Congress to testify as to their activities in China. And on tort reform, our Vice-President infamously fired the first shot in a quest to reform the system by eliminating the lawyers.
In short, the past month has not been short of interesting social and political activity.
Yet, I have paid little attention to the world. Instead, I am concerned with issues like wet burps, clogged tear ducts, and dirty diapers. Lots of dirty diapers. My wife and I are meticulously tracking eating and sleeping patterns. We have spent far more time listening to Twinkle, Twinkle than to NPR. It is a major cause for excitement when our daughter is able to do something as simple as bringing her hand directly to her mouth. Watching her grow and develop and experience something new every day is incredible, and it is a reminder of what we all truly care about.
This past month has driven home the point that thinking, talking, or writing about political and social issues is truly a luxury. Instead, it is the day-to-day challenge of raising a family, a task that requires unwavering commitment and attention, that rightfully gets top priority.
I would argue that this is the way most Americans confront politics – they may be important, but they are secondary to the challenges of everyday life. We don’t have the time, or frankly, the attention span, required to be fully engaged and informed citizens. Instead, we focus our limited energies on our core concerns – is my family healthy? Is my family safe? Any free time we have is spent doing something far more interesting than reviewing public policies.
And while the proper perspective is essential when discussing politics, I firmly believe that these discussions are important. It does matter who our leaders are. It does matter who sets the local or national agenda. It does make a difference which way an issue turns. In fact, these outcomes often affect the way we live our day-to-day lives as part of a larger community.
So when I watch Sadie striving to do something new, I see not only an adorable distraction from the world we live in (check out the picture – she really is adorable), but the very reason to be engaged with that world. It is precisely because these small things are my top priority that I must also care about the larger issues we face together. And while it may be difficult to focus on anything beyond the sound of a baby’s cry – and it grows more and more difficult every day, I’m learning – we owe it to our families to do so. After all, it is their world as much as our’s that we are shaping.
February 04, 2006
SADIE!!
Welcome to the World, Sadie Madeleine Kiel. Born: January 30, 2006. 6 pounds, 4 ounces.
Thanks to the birth of my daughter, I will be taking a self-imposed paternity leave for the next month. Look for a new column March 3.
DHK
Thanks to the birth of my daughter, I will be taking a self-imposed paternity leave for the next month. Look for a new column March 3.
DHK
December 30, 2005
A New Year's Resolution
When I graduated from high school, I did not so much decide to go to college as I simply just went to college. College after high school had been my path for as long as I could say “university.” Many of my peers joined me in going to college. Others went straight into the work force. And still others joined the armed services. I remember registering for the selective service on my eighteenth birthday, but I did not ever consider enlisting after high school. I even wondered why those who did would.
Nearly a decade of perspective later, I find myself in awe of those who, at the age of eighteen, made the decision to serve our country. I wonder where they are today, how they were affected by their experience. I hope they benefited from their service because I know that I have.
If you have read this column, you know I am generally not one to put a giant magnetic “support our troops” ribbon on the back of my car or go around with chest-thumping patriotism. I find that I serve my fellow citizens by helping others gain the full protection of the law as a lawyer and by providing information and a critical perspective of our government and society as a writer. I consider myself a patriot, just not a very loud one.
Americans who volunteer to serve this country as soldiers or sailors or pilots or otherwise demonstrate the highest form of public service at the earliest of ages. On the cusp of adulthood, they dedicate their own lives to the good of an entire country. They serve millions of people they will never meet. In a time of war, they do so at great peril, but even in a time of peace the commitment is heroic. In times like these, their sacrifice is magnified and celebrated, though just as admirable as ever.
Each servicemember joins for his or her own reasons. Each has his or her own family. Each has his or her own friends and hobbies and interests and home town. Each deserves our deepest respect and most heartfelt gratitude. Each deserves to be taken care of, not just physically, but emotionally and economically. Each took on the responsibility of serving each of us and it is therefore our responsibility to ensure that their service is rightfully honored and recognized.
Those who serve our country are not responsible for the decisions of our leaders. They are not responsible for the policies of our government. They are only responsible for their decision to step up and put their own life on the line for the national good. For that, they are entitled to our highest esteem. If they do make mistakes, they, like any American, should be held responsible. But even their mistakes do not diminish their act of commitment.
As I reflect, I am very glad I went to college. It was the right decision for me. But I am proud of my fellow graduates who chose the route of national service. I am proud to live in a country that has so many of these extraordinarily dedicated individuals. I am honored to have them serve in my name. Their voluntary assumption of the responsibility of serving and protecting an entire nation is overwhelming. There are many Americans who accomplish amazing feats and do tremendous good for our country, but serving all of us in the armed service is special. And those who do it deserve to be thanked and thanked often. This is my resolution for 2006.
Nearly a decade of perspective later, I find myself in awe of those who, at the age of eighteen, made the decision to serve our country. I wonder where they are today, how they were affected by their experience. I hope they benefited from their service because I know that I have.
If you have read this column, you know I am generally not one to put a giant magnetic “support our troops” ribbon on the back of my car or go around with chest-thumping patriotism. I find that I serve my fellow citizens by helping others gain the full protection of the law as a lawyer and by providing information and a critical perspective of our government and society as a writer. I consider myself a patriot, just not a very loud one.
Americans who volunteer to serve this country as soldiers or sailors or pilots or otherwise demonstrate the highest form of public service at the earliest of ages. On the cusp of adulthood, they dedicate their own lives to the good of an entire country. They serve millions of people they will never meet. In a time of war, they do so at great peril, but even in a time of peace the commitment is heroic. In times like these, their sacrifice is magnified and celebrated, though just as admirable as ever.
Each servicemember joins for his or her own reasons. Each has his or her own family. Each has his or her own friends and hobbies and interests and home town. Each deserves our deepest respect and most heartfelt gratitude. Each deserves to be taken care of, not just physically, but emotionally and economically. Each took on the responsibility of serving each of us and it is therefore our responsibility to ensure that their service is rightfully honored and recognized.
Those who serve our country are not responsible for the decisions of our leaders. They are not responsible for the policies of our government. They are only responsible for their decision to step up and put their own life on the line for the national good. For that, they are entitled to our highest esteem. If they do make mistakes, they, like any American, should be held responsible. But even their mistakes do not diminish their act of commitment.
As I reflect, I am very glad I went to college. It was the right decision for me. But I am proud of my fellow graduates who chose the route of national service. I am proud to live in a country that has so many of these extraordinarily dedicated individuals. I am honored to have them serve in my name. Their voluntary assumption of the responsibility of serving and protecting an entire nation is overwhelming. There are many Americans who accomplish amazing feats and do tremendous good for our country, but serving all of us in the armed service is special. And those who do it deserve to be thanked and thanked often. This is my resolution for 2006.
October 14, 2005
Yom Kippur for US All
Yom Kippur, the annual Jewish day of repentance, is upon us, and while we may not all literally believe that going to synagogue and repenting for our sins wins us points Upstairs, this holy day provides a tremendous opportunity for self improvement. Our busy lives are easily consumed by daily tasks and distractions (MTV’s Real World is my personal distraction-of-choice) that prevent us from stepping back and evaluating the world and our place in it. Yet, in order to improve, as individuals and as a community, we must take stock of our faults and strive to learn from them.
Coming as it does on the heels of the Jewish new year, Yom Kippur’s invitation to acknowledge our shortcomings is not so different from our annual New Year’s resolutions to quit smoking or volunteer more. A new year brings the chance to learn from our transgressions and remake ourselves to better reflect the people we would like ourselves to be.
As I sit in synagogue, I will confess my own personal sins. Here’s a sneak peek. In the past year, I have done too much talking about problems and too little actual problem-solving (this column doesn’t seem to help, does it?). I have not acted on compassionate instincts out of trepidation at taking a first step, fear of overall failure, or downright laziness. I have criticized others without doing anything to help. Perhaps most damningly, I have listened to hours upon hours of public radio without pledging any support. I feel that I have done some good, but there is no reason I should not be doing more.
This year, Yom Kippur comes at a particularly appropriate time for our country. For the first time in several years, we, as a country, are beginning to take stock of our failures. Slapped into reality as we were by the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, we have the opportunity to learn from mistakes and remake ourselves into a country more in sync with our professed ideals.
In foreign policy, we rarely take into account more than simply strategic military objectives. Considering a more comprehensive perspective would have led us to consider not only the broad strategic benefits of a democratic, WMD-free Iraq (choose your own war rationale), but also the number of lives, American and to a greater extent Iraqi, that would be lost pursuing that goal. Instead of hiding the bodies coming home and ignoring the innocent Iraqis dead, we would acknowledge such sacrifice, honoring it with honesty about the true costs of war. A broader perspective would have forced us to act with more than skin-deep concern for the human beings being slaughtered in Darfur. Perhaps we even could have limited the culture that allowed for our soldiers to torture prisoners, shaming themselves, their comrades who behave most admirably around the world, and us.
At home, Katrina exposed the deep bruise buried at the very root of American greatness. After 229 years of striving, we are still not a country where all men and women are created equal. We do not provide equal opportunities to succeed for children. We do not provide health care for our most vulnerable citizens. We do not take care of our Veterans in a manner consistent with the degree of their sacrifice for us. When I walked home in Boston every day, I passed a homeless shelter for Veterans. Homeless veterans? These people, a pool that is disproportionately poor and minority, put their lives on the line so that we could continue thriving in a secure country. Yet we cannot even successfully reintegrate them into civilian life. Domestic policies that recognized these shortcomings rather than shuffled them under the rug would make our community a healthier place for all of us.
There is much we do right in the United States, but being good does not excuse not being better. Patting ourselves on the back is for Independence Day, not Yom Kippur. On Yom Kippur, we strike ourselves in the heart in repentance and in the eternal hope that next year we will be better husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, friends, neighbors, and citizens. That is a practice all Americans can gain from.
Coming as it does on the heels of the Jewish new year, Yom Kippur’s invitation to acknowledge our shortcomings is not so different from our annual New Year’s resolutions to quit smoking or volunteer more. A new year brings the chance to learn from our transgressions and remake ourselves to better reflect the people we would like ourselves to be.
As I sit in synagogue, I will confess my own personal sins. Here’s a sneak peek. In the past year, I have done too much talking about problems and too little actual problem-solving (this column doesn’t seem to help, does it?). I have not acted on compassionate instincts out of trepidation at taking a first step, fear of overall failure, or downright laziness. I have criticized others without doing anything to help. Perhaps most damningly, I have listened to hours upon hours of public radio without pledging any support. I feel that I have done some good, but there is no reason I should not be doing more.
This year, Yom Kippur comes at a particularly appropriate time for our country. For the first time in several years, we, as a country, are beginning to take stock of our failures. Slapped into reality as we were by the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, we have the opportunity to learn from mistakes and remake ourselves into a country more in sync with our professed ideals.
In foreign policy, we rarely take into account more than simply strategic military objectives. Considering a more comprehensive perspective would have led us to consider not only the broad strategic benefits of a democratic, WMD-free Iraq (choose your own war rationale), but also the number of lives, American and to a greater extent Iraqi, that would be lost pursuing that goal. Instead of hiding the bodies coming home and ignoring the innocent Iraqis dead, we would acknowledge such sacrifice, honoring it with honesty about the true costs of war. A broader perspective would have forced us to act with more than skin-deep concern for the human beings being slaughtered in Darfur. Perhaps we even could have limited the culture that allowed for our soldiers to torture prisoners, shaming themselves, their comrades who behave most admirably around the world, and us.
At home, Katrina exposed the deep bruise buried at the very root of American greatness. After 229 years of striving, we are still not a country where all men and women are created equal. We do not provide equal opportunities to succeed for children. We do not provide health care for our most vulnerable citizens. We do not take care of our Veterans in a manner consistent with the degree of their sacrifice for us. When I walked home in Boston every day, I passed a homeless shelter for Veterans. Homeless veterans? These people, a pool that is disproportionately poor and minority, put their lives on the line so that we could continue thriving in a secure country. Yet we cannot even successfully reintegrate them into civilian life. Domestic policies that recognized these shortcomings rather than shuffled them under the rug would make our community a healthier place for all of us.
There is much we do right in the United States, but being good does not excuse not being better. Patting ourselves on the back is for Independence Day, not Yom Kippur. On Yom Kippur, we strike ourselves in the heart in repentance and in the eternal hope that next year we will be better husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, friends, neighbors, and citizens. That is a practice all Americans can gain from.
October 07, 2005
Welcome to Uneven Kiel
What makes a writer a writer? There is no degree, no bar, no license to separate a writer from any other soul. There is no qualifying moment, no walk across a stage we can point to that alerts the world that: Here is a writer. Instead, being a writer requires only the belief of the writer herself that a writer is what she is.
I say all this because I know that I am a writer. I am also a lawyer, a husband, a son, a brother, and soon-to-be, a father. But there exist definitions for these labels, known criteria I can point to that qualify me. Not so for a writer. My only qualification is that something inside me comes alive when I sit with a blank sheet of paper and a pen to translate my bouncing thoughts into something coherent. For me, writing is exciting and it is therapeutic. It is part of what makes me tick, a necessary part of who I am. So, I am a writer. I have no qualification other than that belief, but a belief is all I need.
I do not know what this column will lead to, or if it will lead to anything at all. I have no agenda other than to write on issues I am passionate about and about which I feel competent writing. I may recommend a book or a movie or comment on a recent court decision (gotta use that law degree for something). I may assert my opinion, but I hope only when I can support it with more than mere fluff. I may tell a story that surprised me, exposing the world from a new perspective. I may criticize and I may applaud, but I will do both only measuredly and constructively. If I do any of these well, I will consider this exercise a success.
My goal is not to convince you that I am right (unless you are my father), but to engage you – to tell you how I see the world and learn how you see the world. Thoughtful dialogue is too rare in our society, yet it is our lifeblood. Without it we are left with prepackaged “commentary” that insults our intelligence. We are left with leaders who are not really leaders, but play them on TV. We are left without information and so robbed, we are left without choices. Finding thoughtful dialogue is too difficult, but it is there. All it requires is an open mind, a respect for opposing viewpoints, and the faith that the best ideas and not the best marketing campaigns will change the world.
I certainly come, as we all do, with my own viewpoint. I value diversity of experience and perspective. I believe a society should be judged not only by the successes it achieves in various fields, but on the way it treats its most vulnerable citizens. I don’t believe that might equals right or that a majority view is automatically correct. I believe in leading by example. I value education, but I also value getting your hands dirty. I believe in the American dream of lifting yourself to stability and success through hard work, but I also believe in providing the necessary assistance to those who start behind to achieve this dream. I don’t believe in blind allegiance, but I do believe in trusting those who have better experience and knowledge and continue to search for the right balance between questioning and trusting. I believe hours spent with family should be valued as much as hours worked, but I fear this is too rarely an option for many of us. Most of all, I believe that peace stems from doing what you love. And, among many other things, I love writing.
So, welcome to uneven kiel. I hope you’ll enjoy this as much as I will.
I say all this because I know that I am a writer. I am also a lawyer, a husband, a son, a brother, and soon-to-be, a father. But there exist definitions for these labels, known criteria I can point to that qualify me. Not so for a writer. My only qualification is that something inside me comes alive when I sit with a blank sheet of paper and a pen to translate my bouncing thoughts into something coherent. For me, writing is exciting and it is therapeutic. It is part of what makes me tick, a necessary part of who I am. So, I am a writer. I have no qualification other than that belief, but a belief is all I need.
I do not know what this column will lead to, or if it will lead to anything at all. I have no agenda other than to write on issues I am passionate about and about which I feel competent writing. I may recommend a book or a movie or comment on a recent court decision (gotta use that law degree for something). I may assert my opinion, but I hope only when I can support it with more than mere fluff. I may tell a story that surprised me, exposing the world from a new perspective. I may criticize and I may applaud, but I will do both only measuredly and constructively. If I do any of these well, I will consider this exercise a success.
My goal is not to convince you that I am right (unless you are my father), but to engage you – to tell you how I see the world and learn how you see the world. Thoughtful dialogue is too rare in our society, yet it is our lifeblood. Without it we are left with prepackaged “commentary” that insults our intelligence. We are left with leaders who are not really leaders, but play them on TV. We are left without information and so robbed, we are left without choices. Finding thoughtful dialogue is too difficult, but it is there. All it requires is an open mind, a respect for opposing viewpoints, and the faith that the best ideas and not the best marketing campaigns will change the world.
I certainly come, as we all do, with my own viewpoint. I value diversity of experience and perspective. I believe a society should be judged not only by the successes it achieves in various fields, but on the way it treats its most vulnerable citizens. I don’t believe that might equals right or that a majority view is automatically correct. I believe in leading by example. I value education, but I also value getting your hands dirty. I believe in the American dream of lifting yourself to stability and success through hard work, but I also believe in providing the necessary assistance to those who start behind to achieve this dream. I don’t believe in blind allegiance, but I do believe in trusting those who have better experience and knowledge and continue to search for the right balance between questioning and trusting. I believe hours spent with family should be valued as much as hours worked, but I fear this is too rarely an option for many of us. Most of all, I believe that peace stems from doing what you love. And, among many other things, I love writing.
So, welcome to uneven kiel. I hope you’ll enjoy this as much as I will.
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