Falling Angels

Today is Friday, September 13^th, but I am not going to write about black cats crossing my path or walking under a ladder being bad luck or all of the theatre superstitions I TOTALLY follow. Today, I want to write about something that everyone was writing about 2 days ago, September 11^th. This is not going to be a minute by minute reminiscence of what I went through that day 18 years ago. This will be more about the feeling I had then and still. On the eleventh I was scrolling through Facebook, I usually do that once a day now, far less than I used to, but I came across a post of an article on my feed. I follow the comedian Elayne Boosler, and she had posted a beautiful article that ran in Esquire magazine called The Falling Man. If you are old enough to actually remember details about that day in the late summer of 2001, you know exactly what this article was about. If you are not, you are lucky. A tiny bit of backstory about me and that day. I have a very photographic memory, not the kind that is instant recall of books I’ve read or papers I’ve seen. My eyes are not cameras, but life event emotions and feelings, I can play them back in my head just like they are a movie, and certain memories are not the kind you want to see over and over again. Unfortunately, once I’ve seen it, I can’t shake it. 9/11 was filled with those pictures. For that reason, I did not watch the news for several days after it happened. It was easy immediately after because I was working at an elementary school, and we were told not to discuss it with the children. No TV’s were on. The days that followed were harder for this TVholic, but I purposely kept the set off. One of the first images I did see, and I think it was in print was a photo of 2 people falling past one of the Towers. They had jumped out of the windows of the Skyscraper. I was overcome with sadness, and a sick feeling welled up inside of me. The desperation, the fear, the absolute horror these people must have felt to leap out of a window 100’s of floors above the ground. Let me pause here and say, I have never had suicidal thoughts. I don’t know what that’s like, but I know that they exist, and are very hard to fight. However, if I had been on the floor with those people that day, I may have made the same choice. And here’s the thing, I do not believe they were committing suicide but instead choosing how they would die that day. They knew that death was inevitable. They knew they were not getting out of this situation alive. They chose “Escape” that day, escape from choking smoke and intense heat, and literally burning alive, and damn anyone who judges them for the choices they made. Yet we have shunned those images and put them away quietly. Whenever someone does speak of them, people freak out. How awful that someone took pictures of that! How disrespectful! How demeaning! The Esquire article was a beautiful tribute to these people. Why have they been left out of “NEVER FORGET?” If anything, I think those images paint a very clear picture of the fear of that day and exactly what was happening. Terrorists decided to execute hundreds of people that day. The people who jumped that day simply wanted the dignity to die in their own way. They were not going to let someone else decide how they would die. People jumped from the Hindenburg, and they were the ones who survived. I am sure they did not know as they jumped from the massive, ball of flame that they would land alive. No one judges them. The heroic people of Flight 93 chose to wreck their plane into a field knowing they would die, but they would thwart evil by doing it. They are revered and remembered as well they should be! Some place the number at 200 people who jumped or fell from the Towers that day. 200 people that we don’t want to remember. These are the images that show us how horrible it was in a mental capacity, and that makes us uncomfortable. We wonder if we might have made that choice, and that scares us. Faced with burning alive, I am not ashamed to say, I would have, as I read in the beautiful article in Esquire, “jumped into the arms of God” with full faith that he would catch me and take me home. God bless all of the “Falling” Angels. I remember you, and grieve for you and mourn the loss of your soul in this world.

Smile Though Your Heart Is Aching

When I was in high school and hanging out with my theatre friends, we would entertain each other for hours quoting routines from a comedy album called "Reality, What a Concept." The comedian we were imitating was Robin Williams. He had a unique style of just spilling out every thought, and all of it was comic genius. I would often share how amazing it would be to see the lightning speed at which his brain was working. I first saw Robin Williams as an extra player on a revival of "Laugh-In" Shortly after that he appeared in an episode of one of my favorite shows called "Happy Days" Richie Cunningham is visited by an alien named Mork from the planet Ork. The character sparked a spin-off called "Mork and Mindy" I never missed it. He delivered lines so fast, and they were so funny, that I missed half of them for laughing so hard. Then along came a film called "The World According to Garp" This was quite a departure for Williams. It was not a comedy. He proved his acting chops, and role after role followed. Some comedies but just as many serious roles. In "Good Morning, Viet Nam" he found a vehicle to use both his comedic and dramatic talents, and it garnered him an Oscar nomination. He would receive 3 additional nominations for "Dead Poet's Society," "The Fisher King," and "Good Will Hunting." He won in 1998 for "Good Will Hunting" A whole new generation, including my own children, got to experience his comedy when he voiced The Genie in Disney's "Aladdin." I cannot imagine what the lead animator went through trying to bring his manic, improvisational style to life. Then came "Mrs. Doubtfire." Of all of his films except "Aladdin" this is the one I've seen the most. When I'm channel surfing and catch it on a channel, I will usually stop and watch it from whatever point it's at until the end. Yes, he's funny, but also extremely touching and insightful. I've seen him interviewed countless times, and I always have pity for the interviewer. They pretty much just have to sit back until Robin comes back from whatever rabbit hole he's jumped down. My favorite of all interviews I've ever seen was "Inside the Actor's Studio" He takes a pink scarf from an audience member and does a solid 4 and 1/2 minutes of hilarious improvisational comedy. The amount of talent is beyond anything I have ever seen and probably will ever see.
Robin Williams died today from an apparent suicide. He was 63 years old. The reports say he had been struggling with depression, and had entered re-hab recently for his drug addiction. He was always very honest and open about his drug problems early on. He was quoted as saying, "Cocaine is God's way of telling you you are making too much money." He knew the dangers and he knew the consequences, but life is not cut and dried. There are no easy answers to anything when depression is involved. This fabulously talented man who spent his life making other people laugh was struggling. My heart aches that such a bright light is gone from this world. O, captain, my captain, rest in peace.

When a Pebble is Dropped in the Water, How Far Do the Ripples Go?

A very good friend of mine told me that the best writing is when the author is totally honest. If there is such a phrase, I am radically honest. I always tell people, “If you don’t want to hear the truth, DON’T ASK ME!” This will be one of those posts, so….if you are uncomfortable with the truth, STOP HERE!
One of my favorite movies is Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life.” If you’ve never seen it, you must see it at least once in your lifetime. The story, briefly, centers around one man, George Bailey, who, through circumstances beyond his control finds himself at the end of his rope. He decides the best thing to do is end his life by jumping from a bridge into the icy water. Rather than ending his own life, he ends up saving what he later finds to be an angel trying to earn his wings named Clarence. Clarence grants George’s wish that he’d never been born. As he sees how life would be without him and how his loved ones are affected he realizes he really had a wonderful life. Near the end of the film Clarence says the following line to George, “Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?”Right now, my family is dealing with the aftermath of an awful hole that someone has left. Yesterday, my daughter found out that one of her very dear friends lost their mother. She committed suicide. I don’t know the circumstances surrounding this event. I am not claiming to know anything about what happened, nor do I intend to start a debate in this post about suicide. What I do want to discuss is that famous line by Clarence the angel, “Each man’s life touches so many other lives.” When I decided to become a parent, my life changed. It changed because it was no longer my life. I started living every minute, taking every breath, making every decision for that small little life that I had brought into this world. It was longer about me. It was about them. Children are not our possessions. They are on loan to us. When you think about it, it is an awesome responsibility! Another human being will forever be connected to me. Everything I choose to do will in some way have an effect on my child. I realize that we all make mistakes, that no one is perfect, but when one makes a conscious, and, yes, I will say it, selfish choice without any consideration of how it will affect their child it fills me with so much anger. Because of the choice this mother made to take her own life, she made the choice to leave, permanently. This child will grow up without a mother, they will not have their mother there to cheer them when they are handed their high school and college diplomas. When they marry, there will be an empty place in the family photo, and when they have children of their own they will never be able to say, “This is your Grandma.” This child will survive, but from this point on, they will live with that “awful hole” that Clarence spoke about. Every event in their lives will have that shadow of “I wish my mom could have been here to see this.” That choice that was made was like a pebble thrown in the water, and unfortunately, the ripples will be felt for many, many years by so many people, friends, co-workers, parents, but the child is who I feel for most. Perhaps that is because my child is hurting for her friend, ripple, and I am hurting for her, ripple. When will they ever end?