Kevin Marshall's America
Inside of the White House on May 1st, hours before the rest of the world knew, they watched. Absent was the undeterred exuberance displayed by people too young to remember the tragedy that shook us on September 11th, 2001. There were was no whooping and hollering, no chants of “U-S-A!”, no college kids pumping their fists. There weren’t any smiles or high-fives; no gloating or posturing.
Instead, the President, his Vice-President, his Secretary of State, his Generals and staff sat in a room, silent, a few mortified. Some in the room had worked years, or even a full decade, to reach this moment. They sat watching, somber and attentive, as we killed an enemy of the State.
The further removed we are from the situation, the easier it is to be embarrassingly crass in reaction to an assassination.
In this time of excessive pride bordering on or passing the line into jingoism, I’m ashamed of the reactions that most of my fellow countrymen had to this event. Of course he deserved it, but there’s a part of us that should be better than to take joy and revelry in doing the things we don’t want to do. Unfortunately that’s absent in too many of us, to the point where I haven’t logged into Twitter or Facebook in nearly twenty-four hours. I don’t like scolding people like children, even if they act like it. I’d rather just know it’s there and not see it, because that’s easier.
In Washington, DC and New York City, people took to the streets and celebrated. Why couldn't I join them?
As I write this, it’s 11:35pm on Sunday night and we have known Osama bin Laden has been dead for about forty-five minutes. Strangely, I don’t feel the same joy and exaltation that I hear and see other people expressing over the news.
The President finally took the podium a full hour after his scheduled announcement and delivered an eloquent speech. There was a particularly powerful statement he made about the worst images of the terrorist acts unseen by most of America, such as the empty seat at the dinner table reserved for those loved ones taken away from us. He finished by reciting the end of the pledge of allegiance and walked away from the podium to silence. It was, I suppose, to allow us a dramatic moment to reflect. Instead, to me, the silence was deafening. As I watched and read reaction on Facebook, Twitter, and from texts of friends, family, and loved ones that came through on my phone, I became confused as to why I didn’t feel that level of joy that everyone else seemed to be expressing.
I turned off my phone’s alerts, closed my Macbook, and went outside to clear my head. Yesterday had been a gorgeous and productive day, capped off by an equally gorgeous evening. The cool night air blew gently on my forearms and neck. Yet, as I looked around, I did not see or feel the world any differently than I had before the news broke; not like I had on that weird day a little less than ten years ago where men under the direction of the now deceased bin Laden crashed planes into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.
This realization made me angry. It seemed unfair that he could take away so much from us and leave permanent scars, but when we finally succeed in our mission to capture or kill him the scars didn’t automatically heal. There was no great fix and no restoring that sense of loss of life and security. I felt disappointed at the lack of karmic balance, then ashamed that I thought there somehow might be.
Despite its structure and pretense to the contrary, al Qaeda is a personality-driven organization with bin Laden as a figurehead. His death is definitely a blow to their morale, cohesion, and sense of central purpose, even if it doesn’t destroy the organization in the long run. But the fight of free nations against terrorism isn’t over, and realistically, it may not be in our lifetime. Too many things have to fall into place and much more effort and loss of life will be put towards this venture. It will also require us to perform an honest introspective examination of ourselves and our history, which we as human beings find difficult to do on a large scale. The man is dead, but he’s been a ghost to me for ten years and I can’t help but feel like no great change has occurred, nor can I bring myself to celebrate.
Last night I took the time to thank people like Kate, Tom, John, and so many others I know who opted to serve our country during and after the events of September 11th, 2001, and I’ll do so here again. I will not fault them any revelatory excitement over the news. They were a part of that search and their joy is at a mission accomplished and the justification of the death of compatriots. Nor will I fault any other American who first saw that news confirmed at 10:40pm or thereabouts and said “good” or opened a bottle of wine. Because, to be honest, I envy that sense of closure. What I feel is not a feeling of sadness over a death, but regret that I can’t join in on the celebration.
Maybe one day I’ll be able to look back on last night differently and convey its meaning in a more eloquent manner. For now, all I know is that Osama bin Laden is dead. Also dead, still, are those three thousand civilians in New York City, hundreds of thousands of our soldiers and civilians on both sides, and even more who didn’t know they were on a “side.” No operation, no celebration, no clandestine Presidential announcements, and no assassination of a targeted figurehead can bring them back and fill those empty seats.
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On an unrelated note, I want to bring to your attention the fact that you can make a $10 donation to help victims from last week’s tornadoes that swept through the South by texting “REDCROSS” to 90999.
The full video of Obama’s intro and speech is 18 minutes long and worth every single one of them. At the very least, watch the beginning and check out the song he uses for his opening.
Been meaning to share this, one of the stranger videos I’ve seen, for quite some time. Hall of Famer George Brett (and current VP and sometimes coach for the Kansas City Royals) tells a player about an “incident” the night before.
Warning: language. Specifically, the s-word (not “swords”).
In case you’re wondering, yes, I AM doing this just so the words “Royal poops his pants” shows up on the main page of the TimesUnion.com website.
When it comes to the Royal Wedding of Kate and William Nolastname (actually it’s Mountbatten-Windsor but only if deemed absolutely necessary vis a vis bureaucratic nonsense), I was only looking forward to two things: it being over and the confirmation that after years of marrying and reproducing with cousins, there would now be two successive generations that forked the Royal family tree. Everything else was just tripe being forced on us like so much gruel.
I fought back against the onslaught for as long as I could with blog posts, snark on Twitter, and comments on Facebook. Then I saw a singular image, one so heartwarming and genuine that it gave me pause and gave me pride. Maybe it’s the 1/4th of me that’s British, or maybe it’s that at heart I’m not as bad a fellow as I let on, but when I saw this image I caved:
photo courtesy the WPA vis MSNBC
That’s Larry, the Downing Street Cat, celebrating the wedding of Will and Kate. Look at his bow!
And, like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes this day.
All hail His Royal Highness, Lemmy Kilmister.
(thanks to DC Hannay for the inspiration)
Some time ago, local mid-life scenester blog All Over Albany asked its readers to provide the penultimate definition of the term hipster. The term had been used as a barb in recent discussions, in particular concerning the great Albany chickens debate.
This guy used to be something. Now he's just a pejorative.
The definition I provided:
Hipster [hips*tur] n.
1. A person on the internet with whom you disagree; in particular the person should be young and liberal.
2. An ihabitant of Williamsburgh whose identity hinges on the increasing level of obscurity in their musical tastes and their battle with Hasidic Jews over whether or not bike lanes should be added to their streets.
3. Bombers patron who is insistent on an imminent relocation to New York City that never happens.
4. An individual who forsakes all clothing and technology developed in the last twenty years, as such wears clothes only from thrift stores and listens to vinyl; distant cousin of Pennsylvania Amish.
Of course, my definition is meant to be tongue in cheek, but the word has acquired a bit more sting in recent years.
The term “hipster” been around in some form for decades, starting with the beatnik movement in the 1950s. One didn’t strive to become a hipster, and it was a word that one would never call themselves. However, it’s only recently that the term has acquired such a fiercely negative connotation. A hipster used to be somebody who was at worst trying a bit too hard to fit into a scene, but more recent applications have invoked hostility towards liberal policy and gentrification. It started as a backlash against trust fund artists and enfant terribles that occupied Williamsburgh in Brooklyn, but has since expanded in scope both in terms of geography and the type of person earning the label. As such the word has all but lost its original meaning and become an insult as common in application as “d-bag” or “a-hole” and almost interchangeable with the terms.
I’m dreading the day when I have children and have to chastise one child for calling another a hipster. Then I’ll tell kids that in my day “hipster” meant a very specific type of person, and also there was a time when if you wanted to watch a television show you had to do so at a very specific time determined by a network. Then they’ll both stare at me like I’m from another planet, and I’ll say “shut up and eat your dinner.”
I’m here at FLAVOUR CAFE (228 4th Street, Troy) this morning until 10:00am as part of 2011 Dining Out for Life.
Stop on by and join your favorite blogger (me, ‘natch) and other fine folks for some food, fun, and fine banter.
Dining Out for Life benefits the AIDS Council of Northeast New York. Eat breakfast, lunch, or dinner at any of these restaurants and 25% of your bill will go to the AIDS Council of Northeastern New York. Even better, all the money you help raise is guaranteed to be spent right here in the Capital Region.
If you do come out to Flavour or go to any of the participating restaurants, take a picture of yourself at your table with a piece of Dining Out for Life literature (such as a table tent, drawing envelope, etcetera) and e-mail it to events at AIDSCouncil.org. By doing so you’ll be entered to win a gift certificate for one of the participating restaurants!
So come join! You can give to a great cause and win some swag yourself.
If you can’t make it out at all but still want to contribute, just go to any of the participating locations or donate directly to the organization online.
When’s the last time you went out for breakfast?
I rarely if ever do. The last time I actually went out for breakfast was with an ex-girlfriend. Of course, at the time she wasn’t an ex, and I genuinely looked forward to those rare times when we’d venture out for breakfast. There’s something more intimate, and peaceful, about having the first meal of the day with someone you care about as opposed to lunch or dinner. Going out for breakfast or having it with a girlfriend (or boyfriend) is one of the more underrated and undervalued activities one can do with a significant other.
Wow, I just made myself depressed.
Help me feel better and drown my sorrows with coffee and breakfast fixings tomorrow at FLAVOUR CAFE (228 4th Street, Troy) from 7:30am – 10:00am as part of 2011 Dining Out for Life. Not only will you get to meet your favorite blogger along with some other fine folks, but you’ll also be helping a great cause.
Dining Out for Life benefits the AIDS Council of Northeast New York. Eat breakfast, lunch, or dinner at any of these restaurants and 25% of your bill will go to the AIDS Council of Northeastern New York. Even better, all the money you help raise is guaranteed to be spent right here in the Capital Region.
Last year’s Dine-Out-a-Thon netted in excess of $48,000.
Hope to see you all tomorrow! If you can’t make it out at all but still want to contribute, just go to any of the participating locations or donate directly to the organization online.
STALK ME
