Day: September 11, 2023

September 11th

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In our travels, I’ve been touched by how other countries have commemorated 9/11. We saw a tree that had been planted on the grounds of Belfast’s City Hall with an adjacent plaque that touched me deeply.

In our recent tour of the Mohawk village of Kahnawake in southern Quebec, we learned quite a bit about the Mohawk people of the area and their history, including their history of building many parts of New York City. One of the things our tour guide brought to our attention was the primary economy of Kahnawake; it’s easy to see once entering the village boundaries that cigarettes are one of the dominant businesses for the tribe. The second largest career for the Mohawk of Kahnawake is ironwork. This began long ago and continues to this day with many Mohawk men traveling each week to New York City to work as ironworkers, and then returning to their families on the weekend.

We were told about, and I subsequently read about a tribute that the ironworkers did for the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center, creating a replica that is kept in the chapel at the St. Francis Xavier Mission Church. With the WTC replica is a cross made from iron that came from the NYC site, and an artistic sketch showing the relationship of the traditional Mohawk with their older tools of their trade and the more modern Mohawk with their modern tools of the trade. There are also eagles and eagle feathers, both a symbol for the United State as well as an important symbol for First Nations/Native people, all set in front of the buildings rendered before the attacks on one side and the longhouse on the other, with both traditional and modern skylines reflected at the base. The visualization evokes many emotions and feelings for so many thoughts and for me, the pride depicted on the Mohawk faces supplants the sadness and creates a new somberness that dulls the pain and raises the heart.

Looking at the workmanship brings an emotion that welled in my chest: the work put into creating such a piece that is both simple and stunning while respecting the lives lost and the lives changed on that day.

When we returned to Quebec a couple of weeks later, we were able to tour the church itself and it was then that I took the pictures that I’m glad to share with you today on this twenty-second anniversary of 9/11.

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Mental Health Monday – September 11th

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Today is one of those days that needs some extra quiet.

I drove my son to work, and then sat in the car for over 30 minutes, discussing what I wanted to eat for breakfast with myself. Having not really decided, I just sat there. I knew what day it was, but it hadn’t imprinted on my mind yet. When it did, I at least understood my unexplainable melancholy.

In the interim between 2001 and today, I have met and befriended a few people who were there, in lower Manhattan when the World Trade Center fell, who were in one of the buildings when it was hit. We’ve heard stories of friends with near misses, where fate – or providence – kept them from being there that day, and others who found their way home, ghost-like.

I have pangs of guilt, feeling the strong feelings of Nine-Eleven when I wasn’t physically there, but in the ensuing years, I have come to accept and be at one with my own trauma. No, I wasn’t in attendance, but I had been affected more than a previous tourist, visiting once or twice. This was my home. Both of my parents were from the Bronx. I was born in the Bronx and grew up in Queens and on Long Island. At the time of the attacks, we had just returned from visiting my parents and my mother-in-law the day before, crossing the Throgs Neck Bridge, pointing out the New York City skyline to our four-year-old son. We viewed that sight not twenty-four hours before, the same perfect blue sky guiding our way north.

I resent out of state politicians using 9/11 as their fundraising, their inspo-porn, trauma-porn, and call to arms that they have no right to.

For more than a year after, when I traveled on our local highway to the state capital, I would shudder at the sight of a plane flying overhead, sinking lower and lower in the sky as it descended to the airport runway that I was passing. Our house is in the flight path of two small, local airports, and every time a plane flew low, I would have a visceral reaction. I felt that these reactions and feelings were not mine to have – I wasn’t there!

But in a way, I was.

This was my home. These were my people.

And I’ve decided to own my pain and my trauma of that day.

That’s my mental health Monday suggestion this week: don’t let others tell you how to feel. Only you know how you feel, and you should let yourself feel the things. It’s possible that the feelings can be too much, but if that’s the case, seek out a professional. Talking to someone who is a professional can do wonders for your mental health, not only today, but any day.

Have a peaceful, blessed, quiet, tea-filled day.

❤