Tuesday, September 26, 2006

The Question

This morning my alarm clock went off at the usual half-past-early, I stumbled to the shower, them stumbled back to the bed to make sure my wife was awake. She asked me “Do you remember what today is?”

Now, this is NEVER a good question. It’s especially not a good question when I’m only half-awake, have yet to have my first (let alone second) cup of strong black coffee, and as-yet have no idea what the DATE is and only a sneaking suspicion of what day of the week it is. Still, I knew I had only seconds to come up with an answer of some sort, so I replied “Oh, happy anniversary!” Now I know full-well it wasn’t our wedding anniversary, but I knew it had to be the anniversary of SOMETHING or she wouldn’t have asked. All the while I’m thinking furiously, then it hits me, her father’s birthday was the other day. It was the anniversary of the day I proposed to her!

Yes, eight years ago my wife did me the honor of agreeing to marry me. This is a story worth telling. I’d picked out the ring without her knowing about it (although I was sure she suspected). I was going to take her to a nice place for dinner on Saturday evening and ask her there. She suspected something was up when I started talking about Saturday plans on Tuesday (I have trouble keeping secrets), but all was going according to plan. Until she told me that her mother called, and we were invited to a birthday dinner for her father on Saturday. Of course I agreed to go (with my stomach clenched the whole time) and she began to wonder if she was mistaken about getting engaged on Saturday. I began to go over my options. I was going to pick up the ring Saturday morning. I could wait until the following weekend, but I’d NEVER hold out that long. I could propose to her at her father’s party, but I’m not that brave. I decided to keep it simple, pick up the ring, pick up a dozen roses from the florist near her apartment (where I got her roses regularly anyway, so she wouldn’t suspect), then give her the ring and pop the question. Then we could announce our intentions at the party (assuming of course that she said "Yes").

So early Saturday morning I went to Luddies Jewelry on Staten Island, plunked down the rest of my money and saw the completed ring for the first time. Luddie (a retired cop I’d known for some time who became a jeweler) gave me a little box with a light in it for the ring (we still call that the little refridgerator), then asked me how I intended to give it to her. I replied that I was going to get a dozen roses and ask her, to which he replied that he had just the thing I needed. He handed me a plastic rose that opened up to hold a ring, perfect! So I put the ring in the rose, then stopped at the florist on the way to her apartment, putting the plastic rose into bouquet. She didn’t think anything of it when I gave her the flowers, like I said I did that fairly often. As she was trimming the stems she came to the fake rose and picked it up, remarking that it looked different, at which point I opened the top, got down on one knee and asked her to marry me.

By the way, she said yes.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Book Meme

MorningGlory tagged me with the book Meme. Books are an important part of my life, I have a three-plus hour daily commute by mass transit, and I spend most of that time reading. When my wife and I moved from our first apartment into our first house I gave away a couple hundred paperback books and STILL have four bookcases full of books. So here goes:


One book that changed your life: Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. Early in my Christian walk my priest/spiritual director at the time recommended it to me, I found it to be a clear, logical and concise introduction to Christianity.


One book that you’ve read more than once: I've read literally hundreds of books more than once, some seven or eight times. Every couple of years I pull out Tolkien's Hobbit/Lord of the Rings, likewise Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia.


One book that you would want on a deserted island: Assuming I can pick a series of books rather than one, either the Dune series by Frank Herbert or the Gunslinger series by Stephen King. For the record, I don't consider my Bible to be a book, it's a commodity like water.


One book that made you laugh: Dave Barry's "Guide to Guys". It's a great look at what makes guys tick. For instance, if an alien landed on earth and gave a woman a simple device that would ensure world peace, end hunger and give an infinite amount a free energy she'd bring it immediately to the leader of whatever country she lives in. A guy will take it apart to try to figure out how it works.


One book that made you cry: There's a line in a short story called "Hunters of the Sky Cave" in Poul Andersen's "Agents of the Terran Empire" that always chokes me up. Dominic Flandry (the agent in the book title) is discussing the impending collapse of the Terran Empire he serves and the age of barbarism (the Long Night) that will ensue. He says (and I'm quoting from memory, but this is the gist of it) that anyone with any sense knows that the Long Night is coming, but they also know that it won't come within their lifetimes. So they turn up their collar, and curse at the cold, and amuse themselves playing with a few brightly-colored, dead leaves. Hits kinda close to home.


One book you wish had been written: The Man's Guide to Understanding Women.


One book you wish had never been written: The Communist Manifesto. While drawing on concepts from Das Kapital, the Manifesto popularized the ideas and brought forth a philosophy that has killed more people in the last century than any other including Nazism. I had to read it in college (I had a philosophy teacher who was a die-hard Communist). I thought it was drivel then and my opinion of it hasn't improved since.


One book you are currently reading: "Enemy at the Gates" about the battle for Stalingrad during World War II. I first developed an interest in the Eastern Front of World War II many years ago when my Dad and I would watch a TV series called "The Unknown War", about the Russian side of the war. I got more interested when I got a Mosin Nagant rifle for Christmas, and a couple weeks ago I saw a copy of Enemy at the Gates in the used-book section of Barnes and Noble. (For the record, if anyone knows where I can get a copy of The Unknown War PLEASE let me know!). My wife just rolled her eyes when I pointed out that the rifle on the cover (itself a copy of the movie poster) had the bolt on the wrong side.


One book you have been meaning to read: I have a collected works of Shakespeare that I've barely cracked.

Monday, September 11, 2006

Where Were You Five Years Ago Today?

September 11, 2001 was a beautiful fall day. The sky was blue, the day was mild. I'd gotten up a little late that morning. My wife suggested that I should take the later train (about 40 minutes later), but I really wanted to stop in Borders Bookstore in the World Trade Center that morning. I did that once every couple of weeks, just to browse thru the books. So I pushed myself out the door, drove to the train station, and caught my usual train which took me to Hoboken, NJ. From there I took the Path train to the World Trade Center, but completely forgot that I wanted to stop at Borders, and entered the Courtlandt St subway station. After I paid my subway fare I remembered that I'd intended to stop at Borders, but decided that I'd either stop tonight on the way home or tomorrow morning. The time was about 8:10. I got my usual R train and headed into Brooklyn, just as I had every work day for the last several years. I arrived, as usual, at my desk at about 8:30.

About 9:00 a co-worker came in and told us that a plane had apparently hit the World Trade Center, that he saw the smoke on his way in. We turned on a radio and heard that a small plane had hit the North Tower. It seemed like an accident. As the news rolled in, we learned that it was a passenger jet, not a small plane, that hit the tower. Then the South Tower was hit. Then there were reports of a plane hitting the Pentagon. I called my wife to tell her I was OK, she said they were watching the news on a TV. I thought it was a little odd that she didn't seem concerned about me since my commute took me thru the World Trade Center, but I decided not to press the issue.

A few of us decided to walk down to the East River to see what was happening, when we got there my first impression was that there was a lot of paper in the air, apparently sucked from the towers. There was a huge hole in the North Tower, full of flames. The South Tower was partially hidden from view by the North, but it was obvious that it was burning too. We were too far away to see the people falling, we didn't hear about that until later.

At this point I was thinking that the fire department would evacuate the buildings, put out the fires, and then something would need to be done to repair the towers. It never occured to me that the towers might be too badly damaged to repair. Then the South Tower (or what I could see of it behind the North Tower) sort of tipped at the top, then collapsed in a rain of dust and debris.

I didn't have another coherent thought for the rest of the day.

I couldn't stay there anymore, we left, headed back to our office building, where we found that the building (a New York City municipal building) was evacuated and locked down, we weren't allowed back in. We met up with our manager, and we all went to her apartment a few blocks away. On the way I stopped in a store for a bottle of soda and learned that the North Tower had collapsed, but I was numb at that point. I remember repeatedly thinking "This day needs to be over."

Since New York City was pretty much locked down I couldn't get home, so I and some others spent the night at our managers apartment. The next morning we decided not to open, and by then the transportation system was functioning, so I headed for home via the Path train in Mid-town Manhattan. Everyone I saw on the way home had a thousand-yard stare, like they were in shock. From the train I could see the smoke rising from where the towers had been, that column of smoke would be part of the landscape for a long time.

I arrived home in the early afternoon. My wife arrived home from work at her usual hour. As we talked about the events of the previous day I mentioned that I'd been in the basement of the World Trade center a half-hour before the first plane hit. She sat bolt upright and said "You were WHAT?" She'd completely forgotten that my daily commute too me thru the World Trade Center, which was just as well or she'd have been beside herself with worry.

Do not forget what happened that day. Do not forget what you were doing, where you were. Do not forget that three thousand people who did nothing more sinister than show up for work or ride a plane died that day. Do not forget that those people were murdered, they did not die in a natural disaster. Do not forget who murdered them.