Another Example of Why I Hate Birds

(Photo: MSN.com)

In case you missed an earlier post on my fear and loathing of birds, I'll recap. My crazy grandmother insisted birds were evil. She was superstitious. For example, she believed someone close to you would die if a bird gets in your house. Hitchcock's movie "The Birds" didn't help but most of the blame falls to my grandmother.

(Toward the end of her life she actually owned a bird and would answer the door with the bird perched on her head. I have yet to reconcile this in my mind.)

Occasionally I can admire the beauty of your feathered friends from the safety of indoors but that's about it. I have had complete hysterical attacks if a bird gets close to me on a beach. Someone once asked me to go on a hike with her so we could experience bird watching. She did not know me well and I did not go.

Last week I watched in amazement as the survivors of the US Air plane that crash landed in the Hudson were rescued. It was a miracle and the pilot, Chesley Sullenberger (Sully), is truly a hero.

Of all my quirks and idiosyncrasies, fear of flying does not make the list. "Cross check and call forward" is one of my favorite phrases. I have flown in commercial planes and private planes, teeny planes and jumbo jets. I flew the day they opened the skies after 9/11. (Yes, I looked for terrorists -- as if I would know how to identify one.)

Even with the bird threat, I would get on a plane today. But I will never take a hike to watch birds.

Seven Years

In one of my favorite books, "Nineteen Minutes," by Jodi Picoult, she opens with a few sentences about what can happen in nineteen minutes. Some are frivolous and some are profound.

Today is the seventh anniversary of the most devastating terrorist attack on American soil. I'm applying the same logic. In seven years, I've been through the mundane and the scary and the heartbreaking. So have you. Such is life.

Seven years ago:

I had a different dog. Also a maniac.
I had the same husband, the same parents and the same friends.
The baby was 13-years old and had no clue of the magnitude of that day.
I did not turn off the television for one solid week.
The oldies lived in Mississippi and they were those in-laws I visited once or twice a year.

During the past seven years:

I've lost several friends to cancer, car accidents and plain ol' old age.
I've cheered the baby through high school and caught a glimpse of the incredible man he is becoming.
I've held hands with someone having a biopsy and I've had my hand held.
I've witnessed marriages and divorces and welcomed new babies into my circle of love.
I've reconnected with some old friends.
I've screwed up. A lot. Repeatedly.
I've watched attorneys become judges and other people grow businesses.
I welcomed the oldies into our home and learned about love, loyalty and stubbornness.

I've become older, grayer and hopefully smarter. I think my heart has grown. And I will stop today to acknowledge the people who did not get the chance to grow older, grow grayer and welcome new babies.

9/11

Today is the 6th anniversary of the 9/11/01 attacks. I can't believe it's been six years.

I love New York. I go whenever possible. I have a gut-wrenching sadness when we fly over Manhattan and the twin towers are gone.

On that terrible morning, I was serving on a golf committee so I watched the devastation on the tiny television in the ladies locker room. We didn't realize the implications when the first plane hit so we went out on the course. Thanks to cell phones, we started to receive updates about what was happening to our country.

Once I got home, I fielded numerous calls from friends and relatives wanting to make sure the husband wasn't in NY or on a plane. (Those were the days when he traveled to NY regularly.) Then, I tried to track down my numerous friends who live or work in Manhattan. The phone lines were all down and cell phones weren't working. One of my friends was in one of the World Trade Center buildings, not the towers. He witnessed people jumping to their deaths. He saw the collapse of both towers. It was at least two years before he could talk about it.

Later on that dreadful day, I sat with girlfriends and watched the coverage. Trying to understand ... trying to cope ...

I left every television in my home on for at least 5 days. 24/7.

Once they resumed air travel, the husband and I got on a plane headed to Houston. I sat on the plane, reading a newspaper article about terrorist cells. They had just discovered a huge one in Houston. I stood up and took inventory of passengers. (Yes, I was profiling.) I watched everyone who headed for the lavatories or moved toward the front of the cabin. I made notes. Big Daddy was appalled. He kept tugging at me to sit down but it didn't work.

Life is back to normal but those threats are still looming. Today, I will wallow in the memories.

Duck and Cover

I went to grade school in the late 60s. The Cold War was raging and we had these little drills to "duck and cover." That involved curling yourself in a ball and sliding under your desk. Yeah, that's going to help in the event of a nuclear attack! In junior high, we did a similar drill in front of our lockers. I thought it was stupid then and I'm still convinced it was pointless. It just made a bunch of administrators feel like they were in control of the situation.

We were afraid of the wrong things. Yes, there were people who wanted to destroy the USA and yes, there were serious threats. There still are. September 11, 2001 was horrible and I'm afraid we will have more of those days. But I think it's more likely to be your day to day life that will do you in.

When I have a bad day, "duck and cover" comes in handy. It's usually not because of Russia or Cuba. I can't even blame the situation on the Middle East. I was trained in grade school -- when you're in a bad situation, duck and cover! Maybe it wasn't a waste of time after all.