Who Are You?
The way it was presented on the WPRO station yesterday, it was not an April Fool's Day spoof. "Some stoned intern pressed the wrong button," the reporters joked on air. They seemed half serious about the cause; but were fully serious about the statement that "All Connecticut residents are requested to leave the State." At midday yesterday, February 1st, the announcement was sent across some of Connecticut's radio stations, without the "this is just a test" part. Alarming? Kind of, reminiscent of Orson Wells' prank in Grover's Mills, New Jersey!
"A humped shape is rising out of the pit. I can make out a small beam of light against a mirror. What's that? There's a jet of flame springing from the mirror, and it leaps right at the advancing men. It strikes them head on! Good Lord, they're turning into flame!" - Eyewitness at Grovers Mill, NJ, October 30, 1938
In 1938, the Martians landed in New Jersey. This, however, was just a prank.
Does this mean that when the real thing happens--a less pessimistic person may be content with saying "if"--no one will jump. The cry of "Wolf!" has been heard one too many times, the color orange (or whatever) signifies high alert code has been flashed too often.
As for me? I've already moved away from the NYC metropolitan region, past Connecticut, a scant 150 miles east and slightly north to Providence, not far enough downwind for many dire NBC holocaust scenarios. Reading the survival stories from the World Trade Towers, it is clear that those who hesitated were lost with very few exceptions. Survivors appear to be the ones who recognize the decisive moment of peril for what it is, summing things up in an instant, who pick up and go. Are not these the ones we label selfish if they reveal themselves to be self-aggrandizing or to arrogate dominion, or to want three purple hearts, when the moment proves to be less urgent?
And, of course, there's the hero stuff, and dulce et decorum est. Right: I don't think so. Die for Bush & Cheney, Hastert, Newt and Frisch and their ideals? I'm feeling jaded and cynical about this option. It may not sound very nice, and it certainly is not politically correct or charitable or even attractive, but I am not leaning towards nobility these days, not feeling very Sidney Cartonesque. Just the truth, the reis ipse locquiturs of the bottom line interest me now. One question is: is this the age or my age? Is it my grand education or someone else's uninformed or naive ignorance? It makes me question the meaning of patriotism and faith, and my own patriotism and faith. Maybe I am, or think I am, like some of Orwell's animals, "more equal than others"?
There have been other times when I have been more Samaritan in volunteer efforts, giving blood and lots of time, stopping to help reassure a victim at the scene of an accident. But here, set in the context of middle age, career changes, constant self-reinvention and frequent unemployment, my personal reservoir of philanthropy and altruism are at their historic lows. I'm feeling stingy and unbountiful, uptight. I'd rather be a 'live chicken than a dead duck,' a selfish bastard than a dead one, I am thinking. And for me, when you are dead, you are just that, gone and dead! Would that I could swallow the intensive religious indoctrination of my youth, hook, line and sinker. That would make things so much easier. Bah to martyrdom and the prospect of all those celestial virgins for Little Big Man.
Who here among us would have gone to Vietnam, had they been called up? Would you have proven a Bush or a Clinton, a Kerry or a McCain? Or worse, a name chiseled into stone on a wall in Washington? Who were you back then? Who are you today? Would you serve in Iraq and die a patriot for someone else's dubious ideal of democracy? Or would you move to Canada to dodge the commitment? Would you donate a kidney to an unknown person with your genetic match in need? Would you sacrifice your life for your wife's or husband's? Would you sacrifice your life for your child? Would you jump off a bridge to save a drowning stranger? Would you defy a mugger in a street robbery or help Kitty Genovese on a sidewalk in New York? Much of this may hinge upon one's belief that there is or is not an afterlife, or whether you think it is all 'here and now'?
I am not saying I know myself well enough to say what I would do. In some instances, I believe I would take a calculated risk. In others, there is no way. I am more likely to avoid pure impulse, more apt to weigh my chances than to throw myself away than years ago. People seem to forget very quickly, so for what cause is it worth dying?
This began on a light note with a slight, humorous mistake and ends on several heavy notes. It is not intentionally provocative. It is just that am in this place and time right now, and although I doubt that I am entirely on my own, I find myself wondering how alone I may be with these thoughts.
"A humped shape is rising out of the pit. I can make out a small beam of light against a mirror. What's that? There's a jet of flame springing from the mirror, and it leaps right at the advancing men. It strikes them head on! Good Lord, they're turning into flame!" - Eyewitness at Grovers Mill, NJ, October 30, 1938
In 1938, the Martians landed in New Jersey. This, however, was just a prank.
Does this mean that when the real thing happens--a less pessimistic person may be content with saying "if"--no one will jump. The cry of "Wolf!" has been heard one too many times, the color orange (or whatever) signifies high alert code has been flashed too often.
As for me? I've already moved away from the NYC metropolitan region, past Connecticut, a scant 150 miles east and slightly north to Providence, not far enough downwind for many dire NBC holocaust scenarios. Reading the survival stories from the World Trade Towers, it is clear that those who hesitated were lost with very few exceptions. Survivors appear to be the ones who recognize the decisive moment of peril for what it is, summing things up in an instant, who pick up and go. Are not these the ones we label selfish if they reveal themselves to be self-aggrandizing or to arrogate dominion, or to want three purple hearts, when the moment proves to be less urgent?
And, of course, there's the hero stuff, and dulce et decorum est. Right: I don't think so. Die for Bush & Cheney, Hastert, Newt and Frisch and their ideals? I'm feeling jaded and cynical about this option. It may not sound very nice, and it certainly is not politically correct or charitable or even attractive, but I am not leaning towards nobility these days, not feeling very Sidney Cartonesque. Just the truth, the reis ipse locquiturs of the bottom line interest me now. One question is: is this the age or my age? Is it my grand education or someone else's uninformed or naive ignorance? It makes me question the meaning of patriotism and faith, and my own patriotism and faith. Maybe I am, or think I am, like some of Orwell's animals, "more equal than others"?
There have been other times when I have been more Samaritan in volunteer efforts, giving blood and lots of time, stopping to help reassure a victim at the scene of an accident. But here, set in the context of middle age, career changes, constant self-reinvention and frequent unemployment, my personal reservoir of philanthropy and altruism are at their historic lows. I'm feeling stingy and unbountiful, uptight. I'd rather be a 'live chicken than a dead duck,' a selfish bastard than a dead one, I am thinking. And for me, when you are dead, you are just that, gone and dead! Would that I could swallow the intensive religious indoctrination of my youth, hook, line and sinker. That would make things so much easier. Bah to martyrdom and the prospect of all those celestial virgins for Little Big Man.
Who here among us would have gone to Vietnam, had they been called up? Would you have proven a Bush or a Clinton, a Kerry or a McCain? Or worse, a name chiseled into stone on a wall in Washington? Who were you back then? Who are you today? Would you serve in Iraq and die a patriot for someone else's dubious ideal of democracy? Or would you move to Canada to dodge the commitment? Would you donate a kidney to an unknown person with your genetic match in need? Would you sacrifice your life for your wife's or husband's? Would you sacrifice your life for your child? Would you jump off a bridge to save a drowning stranger? Would you defy a mugger in a street robbery or help Kitty Genovese on a sidewalk in New York? Much of this may hinge upon one's belief that there is or is not an afterlife, or whether you think it is all 'here and now'?
I am not saying I know myself well enough to say what I would do. In some instances, I believe I would take a calculated risk. In others, there is no way. I am more likely to avoid pure impulse, more apt to weigh my chances than to throw myself away than years ago. People seem to forget very quickly, so for what cause is it worth dying?
This began on a light note with a slight, humorous mistake and ends on several heavy notes. It is not intentionally provocative. It is just that am in this place and time right now, and although I doubt that I am entirely on my own, I find myself wondering how alone I may be with these thoughts.
posted by Stonechuck at 2:08 PM
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