As a gift to his daughter and new son-in-law, my grandfather purchased a house in Flushing, Queens for them. He wanted them to be out of the city so they could raise their children in safety and security. The year was 1968, and we were the first Chinese family to move into our neighborhood. The predominantly Irish neighborhood “suffered” enough when the Italians moved in and now, here come the chinks.
In elementary school, I was beat up and called some racist names. I asked my father where we came from that other kids hated me so much. He said, Manhattan.
The Weekly Scholastic Reader has a student poll. Kids can send in their vote for either Carter or Ford. This is the first presidential campaign I can remember. I went home to ask my Mom’s help and asked me for whom I wanted to vote. I told her Ford. She asked me why and I couldn’t tell her. In those days the paper of record in our house was the New York Daily News and my Mom told me to go get Sunday’s paper (we kept them in the back of the house of recycling). She told me to read the articles on both Ford and Carter and then to vote. I still consider that vote my first presidential election (IIRC, Ford won the Weekly Reader Poll).
Every year, we would have celebrations and fireworks on both the Fourth of July and Chinese New Year. Sometimes we would save the extra fireworks from Chinese New Year (in February) for the Fourth. Neighborhood kids would come to my house to watch my Dad light up the night with colorful displays of illegal pyrotechnics and I loved being the center of attention as we passed out sparklers, but better still was the Fourth of July when ALL the kids would light stuff up and we’d go from block to block watching each other’s display.
Abraham Lincoln was my favorite president. I memorize the Gettysburg Address since it’s hanging on my bedroom wall.
In 1976, my family takes a trip to Philadelphia. The city is insane with bicentennial fervor and I eagerly get swept into it. With wide-eyed happiness that only an 8 year old boy can have wearing an oversized “Spirit of ’76!” t-shirt can muster, we visit Liberty Hall, the Liberty Bell and,for some reason, a giant bust of Benjamin Franklin made of pennies. We get kicked out of the Liberty Bell display because my brother dodged the velvet ropes and began pushing the bell to make it ring. Decades later, security hadn’t improved and a deranged man would do the same, causing them to finally put the bell in a protective case.
On the car ride home from Philadelphia I announce that I’m going to grow up to be a lawyer. My dad gives me a copy of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. I read them both in one night.
July 4, 1986. - My father, sister, brother, my girlfriend and I are all on the 96th floor of the South Tower of the World Trade Center. It’s the 200th anniversary of the Statue of Liberty and we’re literally above the fireworks- we can see them heading towards us which was a unique and strange sight. Several of the New York radio stations are simulcasting the music that is coordinated to the fireworks display and President Reagan is onboard the USS Intrepid to give a speech and lead the singing of “America the Beautiful.” The song begins, primarily started by the President, but eventually taken over by the United States Army Men’s Choir. It was a very beautiful moment for me and I began to cry. My girlfriend and family made fun of me all the way home.
"Yesterday the greatest question was decided which ever was debated in America; and a greater perhaps never was, nor will be, decided among men. A resolution was passed without one dissenting colony, that those United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States." – John Adams, Letter to Mrs. Adams, July 3, 1776
To me, being an American means being part of the greatest experiment ever created by man. Some people, centuries ago, (but not that long ago really,) decided to secure the blessings of liberty for themselves “and their posterity.” Reading the biographies of our Founding Fathers fills me with respect, admiration and awe. Their courage in creating this new nation was astounding. They pledged to their cause, “our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.”
To me being an American has always been important; more important than being born Chinese, more important than being raised Catholic. It always bothered me when people asked me what I am; I’m an American. My grandparents happen to come from China. That doesn’t mean I’m not proud of my Chinese heritage, just the opposite- I’m excited and fascinated by my ancestors and their homeland. It’s just that being American excites and fascinates me more. Here were people who created their own nation. Against all odds, against all logic, they banded together and forged a country conceived on the concept that all men were created equal, that they were endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights and that among these were life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Of course, that idea, and that of a government deriving its powers from the consent of the people, was not new even at the time of the Declaration of Independence, but it was the first time a government wrote it down. The first time. It was a fledging nations mission statement. Name another country that was a)founded, b) created with a mission statement that included promises to its citizens.
There have been terrible mistakes and terrific injustices along the way; slavery, woman’s suffrage, the Trail of Tears, Japanese-American internment, to name but a few, but we have the capability and system to change the way we do things. In fact, the system was created so that we change things. The concept of term limits was revolutionary in itself; part of the bold American experiment.
“….he fights a never-ending battle for truth, justice and the American way!” – from the 1940s Superman radio show.
In the comics, the slogan has been changed to “truth, justice and the American Dream.” And what is that Dream? It’s the Dream that anyone, regardless of their race, color, creed, sexual orientation, or heritage has the right to live their life as they see fit, pursue their happiness as they see fit as long as long as that pursuit doesn’t interfere with anyone else’s. It’s the Dream that our children will live better, more wisely that we have. It’s the Dream that might does not make right.
“I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy." – John Adams, September 11, 2001
I turn on the television, as I get dressed for work around 8:10am Chicago time. The station, left dutifully on CBS after last nights Letterman, is showing footage a giant plane crashing into New York’s Twin Towers. As I begin to raise the volume on my tv I think to myself, “Hm. That’s pretty realistic looking. What movie is that from?” Bryant’s voice comes on. He’s asking someone a question and I begin to realize that it’s not a simulation, it’s not a movie clip- it’s real.
Fellow ex-New York, John Mulhern is asleep in the living room. My shouts/screams wake him up rudely. Sharply. We hear that it’s a terrorist attack. Both towers are on fire now. As much as I want to just stay home and watch I need to get to work. On the train, just as we’re rounding the Loop and coming to my station, I notice that there’s a ton of floor traders out in the street. I check my watch- it’s only 8:40 or so. As I walk to my building I hear some the traders yelling to us (the people getting off the trains) to go home that everything’s cancelled for today. I ignore them. In my office, everyone is gathered around the “Media Center” (two ceiling mounted TVs with cable, actually.) They inform me that the Pentagon was hit by another plane and still another plane has crashed in Pittsburgh. Everyone (the media) was calling it a full-scale terrorist attack.
9 am Chicago time
The second tower hit collapses. Live on TV. I’m dumbfounded. It’s not possible. It can’t be real. The Office of the Building tells us that they’re closing up the building, but we’re welcome to stay. The Sears Tower, just two blocks from here is being evacuated. Trading has been suspended. I attempt to call every single New York number in my phone book. Every line is busy or down. Somehow I get through to my fathers work. He answers the phone. We’re both surprised. He’s trapped in his building. He works for the New York City Transit Authority, just a few blocks from the Trade Center. He tells me that his building was evacuated but as they were leaving the first tower collapsed and they were told to get back inside immediately. He can’t see out of his large office windows because of the thick black ash. Showing a Vulcan’s resolve, he betrays no emotion, but I can sense the concern he has for my brother and sister who work in Manhattan as well. He hasn’t been able to reach either of them. We have to leave as he wants the phone lines clear and I’m being called to the conference room.
9:28am Chicago time
The remaining tower collapses. The Twin Towers are gone. I’m still in shock as my building is evacuated. The train ride home was crowded, but in silence.
At home, the TV is on and my home is filling up with people watching. Other “orphans” seeking solace in each other. The phone lines into New York are down. I can’t contact any of my family and friends there. Then, just after noon, my own phone is dead. In the back of my head echoes something I read once; “First Rule of Engagement when attacking a large fortified area (like a city or village): Cut off Communications.” John’s cell phone is down too. I get scared for Chicago for the first time.
Later, around 3pm Chicago Time, my phone comes back on-line. I instantly try calling my mother. She doesn’t live in Manhattan, but works there. Her work phones are down. After some initial problems (poor connections) I manage to get her on her home phone. She’s fine. In fact, she had called in sick that morning before the first plane attack even happened. She probably learned that from me, when I was in elementary school. I was always playing hooky. She didn’t even know about the attacks until someone called her and told her. She had already spoken to my brother and sister and they were okay even if my sister was “trapped” near Battery Park. She lives down there, but couldn’t get out. Now she describes the whole tip of Manhattan “like a Ghost Town. There’s no one here.”
Combining our phone lists John and I eventually hear from all our friends and family members except for one; Sean Shanahan. He’s a NYC Fireman. He came out to visit us here in Chicago a few times and he’s a great guy. We were very worried, but at 9pm that night we hear that he’s okay. He arrived at the site after both buildings had collapsed and was just too busy to even think about calling anyone.
“War can only be abolished through war, and in order to get rid of the gun it is necessary to take up the gun.” – Mao Zedong
September 21, 2001
I have had a hole in my heart since last Tuesday. This is a new era for my country and I fear the terrible days to come. We’ve been naive for a while; this war really began in Iran, in 1979, when the Islamic militant government stormed and held hostage our embassy there. The attacks this month were merely the most horrific salvo in this war. I pray it remains the most horrific. I’m sad for the victims of the planes. I’m sad for the victims in the buildings. I know at least four people who were supposed to be in one of the buildings or got out just in time. Thank God. I’m sad for New York.
The physical scars will heal, but the psychic residue will linger for decades.
Most of all, I’m sad for US and the U.S.. This not the world we went to sleep to on Monday night. This battle will go on for some time. We cannot ever hope to eradicate a culture that believes America represents all that is evil. We cannot recall or take back the projects and efforts we made in the Middle East that purposefully destabilized it for our benefit. We cannot win by taking over territory or assassinating a particular person. This kind of war has never been fought before.
And here, in America, it will all change. It has already. The two food courts I regularly frequent here in the Loop have set up security guards with metal-detector wands and the one consolidated entrance. Who knows how long this will last? How many forms of ID will one need to fly in an airplane? I have no valid photo ID. How many do you have? How do much do we let our (very reasonable) fear make us change? To what lengths will we go to prevent another attack? This time it’s true; the enemy is among us. Joe McCarthy must be laughing from his assigned hellpit.
I pray we’ve learned from our mistakes.
I pray for the families in New York.
I pray for my New York Family.
I pray for a wise, peaceful resolution for I have not the wisdom to see one.
I pray for the patience to allow for true justice and not swift retribution.
I pray that I stop feeling like I’m going to cry every time I watch TV.
I pray that I stop crying every time I watch the news. It's weird, the last time I felt this way for an extended amount of time was back in junior high school and high school. The only thing that would get rid of my funk would be to sleep. Sleep. Oh, beloved Morpheus, I fear you have no power here and now save to let us dream of a better tomorrow for us all.
