Coonridge Digest: Where were you?

Greetin’s from the Ridge.

I was traveling cross-country to watch a tree-trimming demonstration with a carload of teenagers. For some odd reason, National Public Radio wasn’t playing its usual menu of classical music. Something was happening. I’ll bet you know where you were, too.

But unlike a Pearl Harbor or a Presidential assassination, the word came trickling in gradually until it eventually became a flood of tragedy and disbelief. Perhaps three out of ten people outside New York could name the location of the World Trade Center on September 10, 2001. If you rise from your chair right now and turn on the world news, nearly every event depicted today, two years later, is a result of that day’s events.

It took only a day to learn we’d lost thousands of lives. In a week we realized that our innocence and sense of security were also missing. And after the shock came the anger, after the anger the grief. Then something we’d nearly forgotten crept into the American spirit.

For a few weeks – perhaps months – we were one. Diehard Democrats cheered a staunchly Republican President. Aging protestors from another era slapped the American flag on the rear windows of their minivans. No-nothings whose idea of news coverage consisted of last Sunday’s Ram’s game suddenly found themselves glued to the non-stop reporting.

We had changed. We had become – at least on this one important issue – one in our sympathies and fears. It’s now one short war, one long nation rebuilding, and two major terrorist organizations later, and it sometimes seems as if the events of two years ago didn’t happen.

It takes something akin to the Second Coming to get a teenager’s attention and force him to listen to the news with anything other than an ear to the location of Shania Twain’s next concert. There was nothing but silence that morning. Every child in the car sought an explanation.

Every child was confused. Every child wondered just how much he or she should fear.

In the ensuing weeks an entire generation was taught lesson in patriotism. Kids who knew only the lyrics to Garth Brooks’ and Britney Spears latest hits were beginning to learn the strains of "God Bless America…Land that I love." The whispering and stirring in a pre-game audience became silence when the National Anthem was played.

The American flag became an overnight marketing sensation in school fashion.

Kids began to listen with real earnestness to the tales of their grandparents who fought the last world war. Honest discussions were held about religions and creeds other than our own. The first generation of youngsters in fifty years gave serious thought to the role that America should play as policeman of the world. "My country right or wrong," wisely softened to "Let’s make our country right then get behind it."

Then the less noble side of the American spirit began to creep in. We won a war but the aftermath didn’t fit our fast-food mentality.

Presidential hopefuls who first supported the President’s action became masters of the second-guess. The White House became less than forthcoming with the facts. The flag decals began to peal and fade.

And as we parcel out the blame, the children are taught another lesson…hate. Hate the French, hate the Germans, hate the current administration, hate those who would dare to question the current administration, hate any sect even suspected of terrorism. And if the basis of most hate is fear, then we have not become much more courageous in the past two years.

Our entire nation has suffered a severe bout of Attention Deficit Disorder.

We watched the young man show us how to trim evergreen trees on that hot September morning in 2001. We joked a bit about the honesty of spraying a Christmas tree with green paint before selling it. A few of the girls wished they’d foregone their sandals as the sand burrs bit into their toes. But in the back of each teenage mind were the horrifying reports of what had just happened at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. I doubt that much was learned about tree-trimming that day. Our only thought was toward getting back in the car and checking the next news report.

The real education began as the youngsters began to look toward trusted adults to sort things out. For a few weeks – for a few months – they learned a great lesson. As a nation we are smart enough and we are good enough to keep teaching in this most teachable of moments. Tomorrow will depend on it.

You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door but you’ll enjoy the trip.