I'm Not Complaining, Why Are You?

Right now, I am watching what may be my all-time favorite West Wing episode: Isaac and Ishmael. The story is simple: the White House is on lock-down and a group of high school students are taught about the origins of fundamental Islam by the various characters. The episode was made in response to anti-Muslim sentiments following 9/11.

One of the first stories I heard on the news this morning that Attorney General Holder is thinking of holding some of the Al Quaeda terrorists on trial in Brooklyn. The court house for United States District Court for the Eastern District of New York is mere blocks from my apartment. If you exited my building on the Cadman Plaza West side, crossed the street, and walked through Cadman Plaza Park (which is roughly the width of Eddie's) and you would be at the court house. Heck, I can see the court house from my bedroom (I would have a better view if the trees were chopped down, but whatever).

My mother works mere blocks from the Southern District court house, where Khalid Sheikh Mohammed -the mastermind of the 9/11 attacks- will be tried.

Protectors across the country are protesting these people being put on trial in American courts. One of their fears is that the people in the area will be put in harm's way. Guess what? Me and my family will be in harms way. And I have no problem with it. From the get-go, I have been for putting these terrorists on trial.

A few weeks ago, I asked my conservative Republican father what his thoughts were about the trials. He responded, "we are Americans. That's what we do." I tweeted this line and it was retweeted by the University of New Mexico's College Democrats chapter.

The night of the 9/11 Attacks, President Bush said "America was targeted for attack because we are the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world. And no one will keep that light from shining." How can we keep that light aglow if we don't give even our enemies due process? Hell, we did so for the Nuremberg Trials.

What makes the Holocaust truly different from what happened on that summer day in September 2001? Both were systematic. The only difference were the races/religions of the majority of the victims and their nationality. Suddenly, are we saying "if you kill millions of Jews, you get a trial; but, if you kill thousands of our people, you get a military tribunal"?

What are these protectors truly protesting? I will be in harm's way, but I'm not complaining. There goes public safety. They don't deserve a trial? Denounce the Nuremberg Trials and then we'll talk. They could get off? A jury of New Yorkers, really?

I know this card has been played once too many, but I think it is just another reason to oppose the Obama Administration.

I want to leave you all with this: (warning: if you are not a Star Wars fan, just stop here) Negelecting any love stories, Anakin Skywalker learns that Emperor Palpatine is the Sith Lord. Anakin says that Palpatine deserves a trial for his betrayal of the Republic. Mace Windu says that Palpatine is too dangerous to be left alive. Would you kill Palpatine because he betrayed the public and openly admits it or would you let him stand trial?





Here's another one: from Thank You For Smoking




I have yet to have heard a philosophical argument about 9/11 (minus Acts of War versus Crimes), but I think this explains the true underlying argument within our hearts.

No Words Can Be Found: 2 New Yorkers' Stories

So, as a New Yorker, I guess I should chime in about how this day, 8 years ago, was for me.

I, at the time, was living out in Long Island. 9/11/01 was a warm, sunny day. It went on like any other day, I guess.

Throughout the day, however, students were being called out of class and told to bring their belongings. They never returned. No reason was given.

In my science class, as we always did, we opened with a prayer. The teacher made the intention to be to find a cure for all of the problems of the world. I raised a proverbial eyebrow to that. However, the day before, we were praying for young girls in Northern Ireland that were being harassed on their way to school; therefore, I thought we were praying for that (in another way).

Things really got eerie when I heard that my school's only male teacher was seen crying by a classmate. In my twelve-year-old innocence, I thought that the teachers were killing students (I must have been watching too many action movies).

Then, as my class was walking from lunch to recess, another classmate tells me that the principal wanted to see me. "Oh no! I'm next," I thought. With my legs shaking, I walked up to my principal. She told me that there was someone here to see me. I did not know who it could have been.

As it turns out, the person picking me up was, in fact, three people -a close friend, his mother (also a friend of my mother), and his little sister. My friend's mother told me that my mom had something to talk to me about. I, for some reason, thought that it was related to my asthma. I was told to gather up my belongings to leave with them. I was unsure if I would be gone for the rest or the day or not (obviously, I wished that would be the case). I went to my homeroom and got my belongings and we left.

As we walked to the parking lot, my friend told me "You know the World Trade Center?"

I instantly was reminded of when me, my brother, his wife, his two sons, and my father went to the observation deck a few years prior. "Yeah," I responded.

"Well, it's gone."

Huh? I thought to myself. I was told what happened by my friend and his mother.

We went to my house to get some clothes together just in case I would need to spend the night. I ended up staying with my friend and his family at their house, across town, for a few hours while my parents were working on getting themselves home.

When I heard about the attacks on the Pentagon and the World Trade Center, I could not help but think of how eerily close this was to scenes in a video game I was playing at the time - "Red Alert 2." That video game, a few days later, was banned by some stores.

When my family finally regrouped, I went into the guest bedroom in my house and wept into bed, wishing that this was just some nightmare. I ended up falling asleep for about 45 minutes. When I awoke, I realized that the nightmare was a reality.

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While this is my story of how a part of my innocence was shattered that day, the true heroism of September 11th is best told through the experience my mother went through that day.

My mom was a partner in a law firm. Her office was a few blocks away from Grand Central Terminal. On 9/11, she had court in Brooklyn. While she was leaving her office, a lawyer from another firm located on that floor told her that a plane just crashed into the World Trade Center. My mother's father's best friend was the Executive Director of Catholic Relief Services and his office was hit when a plane crashed into the Empire State Building 50 years prior; so, my mom thought nothing of it.

She got on the Lexington Avenue Line (4/5/6) subway and took it downtown and under the East River to Borough Hall in Brooklyn. The Lexington Avenue Line, it should be noted, travels under the World Trade Center. Right as the second plane hit, my mom was only feet below.

She got to Brooklyn Supreme Court and saw her co-counsel and opposing-counsel by the court steps. She was told that another plane hit. She did not need to be told anything else.

Now, the question was where she would go. Mass transit was suspended. She couldn't get a cab. She had family in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, so she headed that way -a seven mile walk. She realized that she would need water. She went to a bodega and bought a bottle.

Her walk, to this day, is the time she was most proud to be a New Yorker. New Yorkers are thought to be mean-hearted; truly, we're anything but. In 2006, New York was named the most polite city in the world. We may not say "good morning" to everyone we pass, but if someone needs directions or drops something, we help. People were lending cell phones so people could call loved ones, people comforted each other. My mom, in fact, gave away about half of her water.

Eventually, my mom got to her cousin's house and was able to get a taxi to the city line, where my father (who merely walked and then waited at Penn Station for mass transit to restart in order to pick me up and head home) picked her up.

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One of my favorite movies is Spider-Man. My favorite scene is when Spider-Man is trying to save a Roosevelt Island tram filled with kids from the Green Goblin. People crowed onto the Queensboro Bridge, which runs parallel to the tram and began to throw debris at the Green Goblin in order to hinder him attacking Spider-Man as he saved the kids. One man says that they are all New Yorkers and "when you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us." That is what 9/11 meant to every New Yorker. At first, it did not seem like an attack on America, but on New York. But, every New Yorker, then, joined together for the good of all. We all knew in our hearts: "United we stand, divided we fall.
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