I have a particular relationship with September 11, 2001.
I was flying that day, on my way back to CT for my sister Barb's wedding, at which I was to sing. (I was only flying on that day because I had hurt my leg hiking the Windsor Trail in Santa Fe on the 8th and couldn't walk so I pushed my flight back a day from the 10th. So badly bruised and swollen was my quad muscle that I kept my leg up the whole flight on an empty seat beside me, with an ice bag perched on top.)
When we landed in St. Louis around 9:30 a.m. eastern time, a flight attendant announced, "Let us all pray... Osama Bin Laden has knocked down the World Trade Towers... God bless America... feel free to use your cell phones."
I harbor snapshots from the hours and days that followed: rumors of additional attacks on Chicago and LA circulating throughout the plane; sitting on the tarmac for about an hour worrying that we might be an easy target; being told to evacuate the terminal while simultaneously being told to rebook our flights on a lower level; finding luggage in a mountain of bags that had been unceremoniously dumped in the baggage claim area; making friends with a man whose business had already booked a hotel room which he offered to share; rejecting an offer to ride with Al Unser - one of the few to get a rental car - back to NM by way of Indiana; avoiding looking at the sickening images that were playing over and over on the TVs in the hotel's lobby, bar and restaurant; walking around the perimeter of the hotel grounds to keep my hurt leg from tightening up, while also keeping my hurt heart, mind and soul from doing the same; spending hours on the hotel pay phone with wise, caring friends, seeking my center and my compassion; being able to get a room of my own and then spending sleepless hours wondering if we'd be attacked again; grieving upon the realization that I would not make it to the east coast on time for my sister's wedding; improbably scoring an Amtrak ticket back to NM from a small town about a 40 minute cab ride outside of St. Louis; loading up on local apples in that small town and handing them out on the train; spending almost 2 days getting back to NM on a train that ran out of food; and finally, finally arriving in NM to quiet skies and intense conversation and a Double Rainbow banana split.
I was asked soon after my return to host daily programming on KUNM public radio that would be devoted to issues surrounding the attack. The shows were both a balm and a flash point for me. A balm because they were therapeutic... a flash point because I was called a traitor and threatened and cursed at for facilitating public discussions that sometimes explored the possible reasons behind and causes of the attack.
I am so saddened by where we chose to go as a country after 9/11 - i.e. into a war in which hundreds of thousands were killed, rather than commencing a law enforcement action seeking the perpetrators and conspirators and engaging in honest dialogue about why the tragedy had occurred. I realize that what occurred provided a distinct point of division. (I wonder, though, if this division was brewing anyway and would have become apparent upon the happening of some event, not just this one.)
OK, back to the bumper sticker. I chaff at the notion that we are somehow distinct from other humans simply because we were born in or granted citizenship in this country.
"Borders are mere lines/drawn from sea to sea/color is only skin deep/our roots are in the same tree." We ARE all connected... in the end, we WILL sink or swim together. So, my wish, as we commemorate the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 tragedy, is that we not wait for God to bless everyone and everything, but that WE bless all beings and this amazing place where we all live - no exceptions! May you live long and prosper.
Be well...