Of Course I Remember
I was sitting in my cubicle at the Upper Mississippi River Research Laboratory when my daughter called. I was surprised to hear from my college student and soon could tell she was very upset. “They have flown planes into big buildings in New York, Mom. It just happened.”
“They what??” I asked as I frantically started to search the Web for confirmation of this bizarre news. Before we could continue much more of our conversation, the intercom bade all employees to gather in a conference room in this Federal facility.
We gathered and the Center Director, my boss, told us something similar to what my daughter had alleged. The AV guy rolled a huge television out and fired it up. By then, the second tower had been felled, and this was the first time I ever saw that video of the plane flying into the tower. The entire staff sat in stunned silence. Some shed tears. We would see that video — the plane flying into the tower — endless times in the next weeks.
The next day, George W. Bush declared war and said, “The United States of America will use all our resources to conquer this enemy. We will rally the world. We will be patient. We’ll be focused, and we will be steadfast in our determination. This battle will take time and resolve, but make no mistake about it, we will win.”
By October 7, 2001, airstrikes by the United States and Great Britain were launched in Afghanistan at Taliban and al Qaeda training camps and targets. The ground war began October 19–20, 2001, and continued to rage until President Joe Biden had the courage to pull out of this endless war.
But something like a war rages on in my heart. I remember how much I loathed W, thinking he was evil incarnate and that nobody could ever be worse as President.
I thought a lot of things back then that I don’t think now.
The day before these solemn events in New York, I had been at the Effigy Mounds National Monument, in Harper’s Ferry Iowa, a delicious high-bluff piece of the Driftless Region, with my friend Beverly and my little black dog, Nicodemus. Beverly had been staying with me at my home in La Crosse, Wisconsin, and she had a particular interest in seeing these mounds. We had a lovely time walking through the park and enjoying a view of the Mighty Mississippi.
We had completed a weekend workshop that I organized and produced for a Women’s Spirituality group Beverly and I were a part of. I will not name the group because I am embarrassed that I was ever a part of it, and it no longer exists, anyway.
The workshop was a success, and it was hard for me. I had produced and planned events before and felt confident about my ability to carry it off, but I knew that any kind of an event like this is a hellish amount of work, and to put the entire thing on by myself was absolute folly. But that’s the kind of thing I used to do in my hustle for worthiness (Thank you, Brene Brown, for that phrase.). Beverly was kind enough to show up prepared to help, and that was a lifesaver. Several of the women seemed to have some sort of learned helplessness that impaired them from pitching in and helping with such common-sense chores as making the coffee in the morning or planning for lunch. Sadly, I remember a whole lot of whining, bitching, and assumptions that I would hold their hands throughout. I don’t particularly remember the talk of Goddess scholarship or how to get published or how to get The Patriarchy to pay attention to our studies. I remember grown women acting like spoiled children.
It really doesn’t matter now, does it? None of those women even talk to me any more, and although I was the progenitor of what was to become The Association for Women and Mythology that emerged out of that weekend and continued the work for several years, the organization has totally erased me in their history. I guess the workshop that they laud as the beginning of something big just automatically generated itself out of nothing. I also love the way that they talk about the Women’s Thealogical Institute (WTI) as if it was an entity with some integrity, rather than a meat market than denigraded select women. I know perfectly well that I was not the only woman who was sexually harassed by the great WTI, but no woman is willing to come forth and talk about it.
It reminds me a bit of how the American public has made George W. Bush some kind of teddy bear now because he doesn’t appear to be as heinous as Trump. All while the same corrupt actors that enabled W continue their war on people of color, the poor, the elderly, children, queers, to name a few.
I think America lost considerable innocence that day, and we were in no way prepared for the cruelty that was to come. I think Keith Olbermann says it best in today’s tweet. I do think America has become far more cruel and harsh. I know the last 20 years has been loss after loss after loss for me. The last 6 years, with a fascist running the country, a plague that we have failed to control, and my own burdens of 4 surgeries and constant illness have been my reality. At the same time, I have diligently worked at the wonder of boundaries and self-love, and as a result, I have very few friends. People liked me a lot better when they could use me.
I remember Beverly and me wandering at that park in the beautiful sunshine, autumn starting to touch the trees on that hilltop in Iowa. We were singing songs to “The Goddess” and strewing offerings on the ground.
I am not the same person any more, and that is the meaning that this day has for me. One of my close friends in La Crosse had a big poster at her house of an eagle’s head and a big tear coming out of one eye in response to 9/11. This same friend went on to become Libertarian and then MAGA and is probably over there in the Driftless Area fighting masks and vaccines and yelling about her “Freedom.”
If you denigrate and erase the accomplishments of women, you are not a feminist. If you are all sentimental about the American lives lost on September 11, 2001, but you deny the truth of January 6, you are not a patriot.
