I can’t believe it’s been four years since our lives changed dramatically from the World Trade Center disaster.
I wasn’t even here at the time. I was on holiday sailing around the bays in Turkey with nine people. We were all brought together by one friend who was originally from New Zealand. It was the greatest experience as the boat had nine personalities from all over the world. We were from Madrid, Auckland, New York, San Francisco, Brussels, and Sydney.
We were sailing from September 6th to the 16th. The holiday started out wonderfully. The weather was beautiful, the views were amazing. We had a Turkish crew that included a captain, cook and a steward. We’d sail in the morning to a set location and hang out all day. We only needed to purchase the alcohol and the crew provided breakfast, lunch and dinner.
On the 11th, it started out as a day the same as others. We’d docked close to a beach and in the middle of the water was this astonishingly high rock protruding from the sea. Everyone climbed as far as they could and dove from the highest area of the rock. Around 7pm our CD player that had been playing non-stop for the past five days, finally died. So as we were sailing to the next bay to prepare for the night and dinner, we asked our captain to take us back to the beach to go ashore and buy batteries.
Three of us took the small row boat that was attached to our larger boat and went ashore. As we were climbing out of the boat and wading, calf-deep in the shallow water I looked around and noticed the clusters of people lounging on the beach. They looked relaxed and calm and then I heard this voice coming across what sounded like a sound-system. It seemed odd to me that this vast beach could carry a voice that far. The boardwalk area was about a city block away and it just seemed strange to hear this deep, British voice speaking in an eerily hushed tone. The first thing I thought was this guy sounded like a golf commentator. But then I realized, what would a golf commentator be doing announcing something across a beach.
Only when one of the friends with us froze in his steps and then took off up the beach to the boardwalk did I start to listen to what was being said. Instead of how it was being said. I heard him say, “this is the worst event in U.S. history…” and then my heart stopped. I immediately thought there was an earthquake or some other natural disaster. Never did my mind go to the area of a terrorist attack.
At the boardwalk there was only one bar with a rooftop deck that had a large screen TV playing. Once we got to the deck, we realized that was the voice we’d heard on the beach. When we arrived, the place was empty. We stood at the bar, too much in shock and fear for what we might see to sit down. As we looked at the screen I heard the BBC reporter say, “what you’re about to see is quite disturbing”. Then came the image of the twin towers. A plane was flying through the air heading towards the buildings. My first thought of denial came about when I thought to myself, “wow, I didn’t realize the towers were so high in the sky that they were at the same level as planes”. Then I watched as the plane disappeared between the towers. I instantly looked to the other side of the buildings waiting to see the plane come out on the other side. I assumed it was flying in between the buildings. And then the explosion filled the screen. I gasped and our friend sank into the bar stool.
We watched in shock and horror as the events unfolded and realized it was happening live. We were about 10 hours ahead of New York. Then I remembered that the friend who sank into the bar stool was from New York. I asked him if he was okay and he couldn’t speak. He finally couldn’t take watching the footage anymore and asked us to leave with him. He stated that it wasn’t a matter of which of his friends were in the building but how many. When we turned to leave, the bar was packed. We were in such shock, we didn’t hear or feel the place fill up.
Upon reaching the boardwalk, our friend could barely walk. I and our other friend had to hold him up and we went to the nearest pay phone. He wanted to call his family. The phone lines were all busy and congested so we walked until we found an internet café where he could try and email his family.
By that time, our other friends had heard the same announcer from the boat and come to shore to find us. We continued to watch the footage on the internet café’s TV for the next three hours.
The tragic thing about it was when we had a group of European men arrive in the café and asked the owner to turn the TV to a sports game. Our friends were shocked and the group told us to relax. That we were arrogant American’s to think that the world stopped because something had happened in our country. They wondered if our world stopped when tragic events happened in Europe?
We left soon after and upon arriving back to our boat, we were all exhausted and still in shock. Then the captain from a neighboring boat came over and started to tell our captain that the U.S. now knew what it felt like. He assumed we were all Europeans and he continued that we deserved it. We instantly told him to get off of our boat.
For the next several days we felt isolated and scared. We’d received a notice from our travel agent that upon our arrival to Istanbul on the 16th (our date to return home), we should not let anyone know some of us were Americans. That Turkey was the ‘Gateway to the Middle East’ and for us to be careful and lay low.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Tom Cruise On Oprah
I’ve always considered myself a fan of Tom Cruise. Sometimes he’s been a little to eager to be liked for my taste but I’ve stayed a fan. Maybe my annoyance with his eagerness comes from my own cynicism. I’m truly one of those cynics who wants to slap the girl behind the counter at Starbuck’s who’s just a little too chipper for 8:30am. The one who wants to kick the chair out from under the co-worker who rolls over to the opening of your cube and, with a little too much energy asks, “how was your weekend, did you have fun, what did you do?”
Okay, back to the point. Tom Cruise. I was recently watching Oprah and Tom Cruise was a guest. Oprah brought up the fact that he had a bi-racial son by asking if he’d had a conversation with him about race since it’s obvious he’s of another race. Tom’s response? “What do you mean, another race? My son is from the human race. He’s my son and I love him!” He then tells Oprah there was no need for discussion about it and it had never been talked about in his home. That all his son needs to know is that he’s loved and we’re all here to work it out together. I was shocked when Oprah chose not to dig deeper. It was obvious she wasn’t going to lose that friendship by asking anymore questions and offend him. So she doesn’t dig deeper, although she had to be thinking this man was crazy. Instead she starts talking about Steven Spielberg and his adopted, African-American daughter and how ‘pretty her hair is because it’s so big and full and that Kate had to learn how to braid’. Oh lord.
I wanted to throw up. Of course because of Tom’s altruistic, but unrealistic response, but also because Oprah was too busy enraptured with Tom to be an interviewer and get him to answer honestly. It goes back to his wanting to be liked so much he said what he thought he should respond with instead of what was real. His response is an irresponsible way to think in today’s world. And because Oprah let the discussion drop, she gave up on an opportunity to educate him (and the world) and have a very compelling conversation.
Tom Cruise is living in a bubble and that’s scary for his son. His refusal to talk about race is doing a disservice to his son. His son obviously knows he’s adopted, so why not talk to him about where he came from and teach him to not only be proud of the cultures that brought him to this earth, but also the cultures of his existing family. Why can’t he learn that his hair is the way it is because part of him is from Africa and that’s the texture of that culture. That part of him is a descendent of kings and queens who ruled tribes, and still do, for hundreds of years? If the other part of him is, let’s guess, Swedish, then why not tell him about that culture?
My boyfriend found out at a late age in life that he’s part Native American. Did that somehow turn him away from the non-Native American person in his family? No. It just showed him there was another facet to who he was and he was eager to learn more and be proud of that side of himself as well.
How is Tom going to deal when his son comes home and tells him someone called him the ‘N’ word? He’s going to hear it, it doesn’t matter how high up on the financial food chain he is. He still looks African-American and will be treated as such when he’s not under his dad’s arm. Keeping his son in the dark about those issues will only be a bigger shock to his system when someone treats him like he’s different or doesn’t belong because of his color.
It’s wonderful to want things to be equal and for everyone to ‘be in it together’ but that’s not the case and I don’t see anyone stepping up and taking Martin or Malcolm’s place to make sure it does (Jesse doesn’t count. He had his chance after Martin was shot and he sold out). People think because Oprah has been on TV for the past 20 years and almost every show now has a token black on cast, that racism is dead. It’s not.
I’m 35 years old and I live in the real world and unless his son decides to live in his dad’s bubble of celebrity for the rest of his life, he’s going to live in the real world too.
It’s not about preparing him to distrust people, to be cynical. It’s to let him know there are people out there who may judge him for being the shade he is. That some people are ignorant and make decisions about other’s character based on the color of their skin. That he shouldn’t second guess everyone who treats him rudely, but know that those who are blatant in their prejudice; know it has nothing to do with him. There’s nothing wrong with him, it’s the other person’s problem. But if you never have that conversation, how can you possibly know he’ll handle that inevitable situation in a healthy and strong way?
It doesn’t matter how much confidence, strength and love you give a child, when they hear that word, or words similar, it’s a shock to the system and is devastating. I know. I am 100% African American and in third grade, at a school that was 90% white, I was called the ‘N’ word. I knew what it meant without being told and from then on my world was changed. I felt embarrassed, dirty, and different from everyone and I just wanted to go hide. I felt everyone was looking at me with the disgust this one little kid had when he called me that horrible name. Would I have been stronger had I been talked to about the potential beforehand? I’m not sure but I wish I’d been given that option. I wouldn’t have felt ashamed because I would have known it had nothing to do with me. That I was okay, it was he who was the ignorant piece of crap who deserved the look of disgust and indifference.
I went home and told my mom what happened and will never forget the look of pain on her face. I think my parents had hoped it wouldn’t happen to me so young. Therefore, we’d never been any discussions about our being black and others possibly not liking us for it. It has to be painful to have your child come home and tell you they’ve been called any derogatory name. We lived in a predominately white area and when I look back I always felt my parents moved there to an all-white area to let us know we could live anywhere, do anything and be anything we wanted. That others couldn’t dictate our worth and direction in life. To be open to everyone and everything.
Anywho, when I told my mom, she sat me down right then and there to share with me the history of our race and rebuilt my confidence and that sense of pride back into my heart. She told me it was the other people who were ignorant and intolerant, that I was still the daughter she loved and the little girl my true friends cared about. I’d done nothing wrong. She shared with me the stories of her youth in dealing with prejudice and also shared stories of strength of the African American race and how they overcame such diversity and it was up to every generation to hold our heads proudly no matter how many names or stones that were thrown our way.
That day I learned the phrase, Stick and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me. It has stayed with me and I’ve had to repeat it in my head several times since that day to keep me from ripping out some ignorant punk’s throat.
I’ve digressed, back to Tom and his son. Have the discussion. Fill him with pride about the history of all the cultures in his family, including his biological one. Knowing won’t make him turn his back on Tom. He’ll probably love him more for it.
Okay, back to the point. Tom Cruise. I was recently watching Oprah and Tom Cruise was a guest. Oprah brought up the fact that he had a bi-racial son by asking if he’d had a conversation with him about race since it’s obvious he’s of another race. Tom’s response? “What do you mean, another race? My son is from the human race. He’s my son and I love him!” He then tells Oprah there was no need for discussion about it and it had never been talked about in his home. That all his son needs to know is that he’s loved and we’re all here to work it out together. I was shocked when Oprah chose not to dig deeper. It was obvious she wasn’t going to lose that friendship by asking anymore questions and offend him. So she doesn’t dig deeper, although she had to be thinking this man was crazy. Instead she starts talking about Steven Spielberg and his adopted, African-American daughter and how ‘pretty her hair is because it’s so big and full and that Kate had to learn how to braid’. Oh lord.
I wanted to throw up. Of course because of Tom’s altruistic, but unrealistic response, but also because Oprah was too busy enraptured with Tom to be an interviewer and get him to answer honestly. It goes back to his wanting to be liked so much he said what he thought he should respond with instead of what was real. His response is an irresponsible way to think in today’s world. And because Oprah let the discussion drop, she gave up on an opportunity to educate him (and the world) and have a very compelling conversation.
Tom Cruise is living in a bubble and that’s scary for his son. His refusal to talk about race is doing a disservice to his son. His son obviously knows he’s adopted, so why not talk to him about where he came from and teach him to not only be proud of the cultures that brought him to this earth, but also the cultures of his existing family. Why can’t he learn that his hair is the way it is because part of him is from Africa and that’s the texture of that culture. That part of him is a descendent of kings and queens who ruled tribes, and still do, for hundreds of years? If the other part of him is, let’s guess, Swedish, then why not tell him about that culture?
My boyfriend found out at a late age in life that he’s part Native American. Did that somehow turn him away from the non-Native American person in his family? No. It just showed him there was another facet to who he was and he was eager to learn more and be proud of that side of himself as well.
How is Tom going to deal when his son comes home and tells him someone called him the ‘N’ word? He’s going to hear it, it doesn’t matter how high up on the financial food chain he is. He still looks African-American and will be treated as such when he’s not under his dad’s arm. Keeping his son in the dark about those issues will only be a bigger shock to his system when someone treats him like he’s different or doesn’t belong because of his color.
It’s wonderful to want things to be equal and for everyone to ‘be in it together’ but that’s not the case and I don’t see anyone stepping up and taking Martin or Malcolm’s place to make sure it does (Jesse doesn’t count. He had his chance after Martin was shot and he sold out). People think because Oprah has been on TV for the past 20 years and almost every show now has a token black on cast, that racism is dead. It’s not.
I’m 35 years old and I live in the real world and unless his son decides to live in his dad’s bubble of celebrity for the rest of his life, he’s going to live in the real world too.
It’s not about preparing him to distrust people, to be cynical. It’s to let him know there are people out there who may judge him for being the shade he is. That some people are ignorant and make decisions about other’s character based on the color of their skin. That he shouldn’t second guess everyone who treats him rudely, but know that those who are blatant in their prejudice; know it has nothing to do with him. There’s nothing wrong with him, it’s the other person’s problem. But if you never have that conversation, how can you possibly know he’ll handle that inevitable situation in a healthy and strong way?
It doesn’t matter how much confidence, strength and love you give a child, when they hear that word, or words similar, it’s a shock to the system and is devastating. I know. I am 100% African American and in third grade, at a school that was 90% white, I was called the ‘N’ word. I knew what it meant without being told and from then on my world was changed. I felt embarrassed, dirty, and different from everyone and I just wanted to go hide. I felt everyone was looking at me with the disgust this one little kid had when he called me that horrible name. Would I have been stronger had I been talked to about the potential beforehand? I’m not sure but I wish I’d been given that option. I wouldn’t have felt ashamed because I would have known it had nothing to do with me. That I was okay, it was he who was the ignorant piece of crap who deserved the look of disgust and indifference.
I went home and told my mom what happened and will never forget the look of pain on her face. I think my parents had hoped it wouldn’t happen to me so young. Therefore, we’d never been any discussions about our being black and others possibly not liking us for it. It has to be painful to have your child come home and tell you they’ve been called any derogatory name. We lived in a predominately white area and when I look back I always felt my parents moved there to an all-white area to let us know we could live anywhere, do anything and be anything we wanted. That others couldn’t dictate our worth and direction in life. To be open to everyone and everything.
Anywho, when I told my mom, she sat me down right then and there to share with me the history of our race and rebuilt my confidence and that sense of pride back into my heart. She told me it was the other people who were ignorant and intolerant, that I was still the daughter she loved and the little girl my true friends cared about. I’d done nothing wrong. She shared with me the stories of her youth in dealing with prejudice and also shared stories of strength of the African American race and how they overcame such diversity and it was up to every generation to hold our heads proudly no matter how many names or stones that were thrown our way.
That day I learned the phrase, Stick and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me. It has stayed with me and I’ve had to repeat it in my head several times since that day to keep me from ripping out some ignorant punk’s throat.
I’ve digressed, back to Tom and his son. Have the discussion. Fill him with pride about the history of all the cultures in his family, including his biological one. Knowing won’t make him turn his back on Tom. He’ll probably love him more for it.
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