Posted on 09/15/2001 7:54:58 AM PDT by watsonfellow
Yesterday I began to feel better.
It has been really difficult being outside of America when these attacks came, my friend Steve Grove, put it best when he wrote:
"There is one word that describes what it is like to see this all unfold from a foreign country: frustration. Of course everyone in the US is also very frustrated, but being abroad amplifies that emotion. I can literally do nothing at all I can't even donate blood. I want to jump on a plane and help clear through the rubble. I want to grab a big gun and go find the perpetrator. I want to call everyone I know and talk this through. But these things are not possible when you are five thousand miles from home.
Perhaps the biggest day-to-day frustration is the lack of opportunities for expression."
I see pictures of America, where people are coming together, hanging flags, going to vigils, hugging each other etc, and I was constantly reminded that I was not part of that, just by being forced to watch the BBC and Sky News and hearing the various eurotrash in my hostel imply that America had it coming etc.
My sadness was compounded by the fact that unlike many of the Americans I had met, I was not going to be going home soon, but in about ten to eleven months.
Thursday night though, I literally bumped into two Americans at a McDonalds near my hostel and we started talking, they told me to bring my food with them and we would go eat in the lobby of their hotel, which they said was full of stranded Americans like them.
I found out on the walk to the hotel, that they were United Airlines's flight crew, and that when we got to the lobby of their hotel it was full of United pilots and air crew.
Their grief was not just general, as was mine, but more specific, for they had lost friends and colleagues on flight 93. They were not mourning though, they were oddly enough celebrating, celebrating the determination, courage, and spunk that the passengers and crew had in retaking the plane and ditching it so that it would not crash into any public buildings in DC.
My United Friends would raise their fists and say with some bravada, "Flight 93, WE took it down!".
The next day, I woke up at about six and went to wait in line for the memorial service for the American Community in London at St. Paul's Cathedral. A friend and I were the third group there, so we were guaranteed admittance into the Cathedral and pretty good seats. We had to stand in line for about four hours however before they opened the Cathedral to us, and in those few hours, I feel like I met half the Americans in London and it felt great. We talked and talked and talked, and not once did I have to defend America or apologize for my sadness etc.
We sat six rows behind the Queen and the service was very High Church Anglican, with Choirsters, Deans and Chapters, The Archbishops of Cantebury and York, Canons Minor and Regular, Aristocracy and Commoners, the Queen, Prince Philip, Prince Charles, the US Ambassador and his wife, Prime Minister Blair and his wife, Baroness Thatcher, the entire Diplomatic Corp, and representatives of every major (and minor) religion.
The service began with an uplifting rendition of the Star Spangled Banner and then continued with two powerful readings, Anglican Hymms, an address by the Archbishop of Cantebury, and finished with two songs. The Battle Hymm of the Republic and God Save the Queen.
I finally felt as if I was part of the mourning process that I had only seen on tv. Apparently when she left St. Paul's, the Queen broke down, and I must say that her graciousness in having this service and especially in her singing the American National Anthemm, made me sing God Save the Queen with a little more fevor than was necessary.
I got three programs, but when we walked outside, we were confronted with the thousands of Americans who could not get into the Cathedral (although I must say, that around two thirds of the Cathedral was reserved for commoners, non invited guests like me, indeed the best seats on the Queen's side were for the general public) and so I gave two of my programs to two American women who could not get in.
I am leaving for the Abbey at Fongombault in France Monday and that should be odd because I will be totally cut off from email, from news, from anything really till around Christmas.
I have this desire for everything that is going to happen, to happen this weekend before I leave for this isolated Benedictine monastery. That will probably not happen though...c'est la vie.
And keep sending us information from Europe. It is good to know what's going on over there.
Or perhaps you should get off your high horse and realize how unhelpful your postings really are. That is it...poof you are gone.
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