DAY TWENTY SEVEN:Oct. 7
The battle is afoot, bombs are falling and by Monday we shall know whether or not the American attacks on Afghani targets were, in fact, surgical. American soul searching will now begin in earnest.
Had it not been for the ever-worsening odor from Ground Zero, today would have been an Eden in New York. Temperatures have fallen to genuine autumnal lows, and brisk forceful winds swept through the city, carrying the stench of Ground Zero vast distances. It has worsened to such a degree that I have experienced involuntary gagging today, and half the people I encounter complain of having a "cold", marked by gagging, sore throat, burning eyes, runny noses and vague nausea. The metallic sensation produced by the emissions from Ground Zero is now unmistakable, reminiscent of the air of industrial Siberia.
Nevertheless, in uptown Manhattan it was possible to ignore such reminders of America's new era. Throngs of tourists have grabbed travel packages from all over the country, and lines for Broadway shows are once again blocks long. Even dreadful musicals, such as "Les Miserables", have gullible tourists queued at the doors once again. Gaggles of tourists were guided around Brooklyn Heights today, for the first time since September 11, and had a new stop added to their tour package: a Promenade view of Ground Zero.
New Yorker's citizenry was also out in throngs today, apparently unaware of the day's events overseas. As evening fell, and the citizenry turned on their television sets the news of war could be heard emanating from the few open windows in my neighborhood. With temperatures dropping below freezing tonight, and the air so acrid, not many Brooklynites have open windows, of course. But the blue TV screens seen through window after window were glued to events thousands of miles away.
New Yorkers know, of course, that the White House has warned the New York Congressional delegation that there is an "almost certainty" today's attacks on Afghanistan will spawn retaliatory terrorist actions here in the United States. No one has officially indicated that New York City is considered a likely target for a second round, but the nervous residents of this city didn't need to hear officials call for a "heightened state of alert" -- they went there on their own.
It is hard to know how events overseas will affect our city elections on Tuesday, but they will. It is possible that the traditionally liberal voters of New York will react with horror if civilian targets are accidentally hit by US bombings, and that might be good for Ferrer. It is equally likely that the heightened sense of imminent retaliatory threat to Gotham will move many voters to consider voting for Green, the candidate who has signaled a willingness to work with Rudy Giuliani in an expanded transition period.
Nationally this is certainly an equally politically volatile time. Regardless of any American's political views before September 11, those I speak with express angst over the complexity of these times. Whether they are Washington military analysts or the street venders I speak with along Park Avenue Americans are finding it difficult to fall back on pat political maxims and tenets that they lived by before more than 5,000 innocent civilians were slaughtered. There is fear in the air, and genuine threat. It makes simplistic answers, left or right, impossible to adopt. This is a time for each American to test their beliefs, character and sympathies.
Here in New York people wonder if the rest of the nation -- indeed, the world -- fully appreciates how radically our lives have changed, and to what extent the transformations are permanent. In conversations with friends and interviewees there is an anxiety expressed about this. It's difficult to explain, but I will try. An old college pal was in town to screen one of his movies earlier this week, and we both squeezed out a couple of hours for lunch. Along our walk to the bistro every store window had American flags, pictures of the World Trade Center, signs that said "Never Forget" and other sentiments. One furniture store along that route has a remarkable piece of art in its window. It is a large American flag made out of toy emergency vehicles: the red stripes are composed of fire trucks, the white of ambulances and the blue field is toy police cars. We discussed the difference between such displays and sentiments in my chum's Los Angeles and here, in New York.
In California, he said, it's about patriotism, and whether or not an individual or business displays such symbols and sentiments is something of a reflection of their political views: Not so in New York. Here, for most people, the flag, firefighters, rescue workers and World Trade Center images are interchangeable parts meant to speak to heroism and defiance. These symbols, ubiquitous in their display citywide, are expressions of the collective emotional gestalt, which is not too far from what, two months ago, might have been summarized with the cliché "Brooklyn Attitude". It's like Robert De Niro turning to face the camera and saying, "You talking to me' Huh? You talking to me". Or Joe Pesci, in his thickest regional accent, saying, "You want a piece of me? I'm talking to you, %^$%! You want a piece of me," usually followed by the sound of an automatic weapon or a fist slamming into a face. It's not pretty, but it's New York. It's the emotional grit that has kept this place alive for centuries, made it attractive to some and alienating to others. Those defiant symbols, whether they be flags or shrines, World Trade Center posters or T-shirts depicting firefighters at Ground Zero and the words "America's Heroes", are less about patriotism than flipping the bird at unseen enemies.
It reminds me of an old Brooklyn joke. Three guys decide to travel around the world together. One is from Paris, one from London and the third from Brooklyn. They are captured by cannibals and tied to stakes. The cannibal leader, who in some renditions speaks with a Yiddish accent and acts like Mel Brooks, says, "I got good news for you, and bad news for you. The good news is that you get to choose how you wanna die. The bad news is we're gonna eat your insides and make canoes out of your skin. So, who goes first?"
The Parisian gallantly shouts, "Give me the knife," and WHOOSH, slits his own throat. The Brit, not to be outdone by a French man, grabs the knife and WHOOSH, slits his throat, too.
The Brooklynite smirks. There is a pause, during which the Brooklynite stares straight into the cannibal chief's eyes.
"Well," the chief asks, "what will it be?"
"Gimme a friggin' fork," the Brooklynite says in a Flatbush accent so thick that he has to repeat his request several times before the chief believes his ears, and orders a fork handed to the man. The Brooklynite snaps up the fork and stabs himself all over, poking holes in his skin, and shouts, "Try making a friggin' boat out of this, jerk!"
Now that is Brooklyn attitude. And that comes a lot closer to explaining the flags and symbols festooned all over the city than do the lyrics of the "Star Spangled Banner". It is this difference that worries many New Yorkers, as the Nation bombs Afghanistan. Whether or not individual citizens of Gotham support today's military actions, they fear that their reasons for forming such views are not the same as the rationales the rest of America uses in formulating its positions. Once again, the New York islands feel separated from Main Street America. And that is tough, after bathing for nearly three weeks in the Nation's affections.
These are, indeed, confusing times.
Be well. Be safe. Stand defiant.
Laurie Garrett
