I debated whether or not to write at all about 9/11. There just doesn’t seem to be anything left to say. I then decided to finally write about Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer, the plot of which hinges on the events of 9/11. Unfortunately real events made it impossible to not write about 9/11.
I woke up this morning to learn that the US Ambassador to Libya, Christopher Stevens, was murdered, along with three others. That attack, along with major protests outside the American Embassy in Egypt, makes it clear we are still at war. All sparked by a rumor. The thing is that no matter how hard we all try in the United States to pretend we aren’t still at war, that 9/11 didn’t change everything, there are still terrorist attacks.
Back in 2000 I studied abroad in London for a month during the summer. Every day I used the Russell Square tube station to get around the city. It happened to be merely blocks away from Commonwealth Hall, where we were all staying that July. It is precisely the same tube station attacked in 2005 after it was announced London would host the 2012 Olympics.
In 2002 I spent a semester studying Spanish in Caceres, Spain, once again through Michigan State University. Throughout that semester I made several trips via train to Madrid. Time and time again I’d find myself in Atocha Station. I can’t even begin to tell you how heartbroken I was when I learned it too was a target for terrorists in 2004. I can tell you precisely where I was when I heard the news.
While I haven’t experienced the day to day anxiety of say New Yorkers in the days and weeks following the September 11th attacks or the residents of Washington, D.C. a year later during the beltway sniper shootings, terrorism did color many aspects of my college days. To this day 9/11 seems surreal to me. At the time I was studying abroad in Ecuador (again, Spanish). It took weeks before some sort of normalcy returned to our routines as foreign exchange students. We all kept expecting additional attacks back home. I remember pleading with my Mom to tell me exactly what was going at home the evening of 9/11. We heard so many rumors I suppose I needed some reassurance that life at home as I knew it did go on.
In Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close, the young protagonist of the story, Oskar Schell, uses the term “heavy boots” to describe any sadness or unpleasant emotion relating to losing his father Thomas Schell on 9/11. The term just seemed so fitting for the events of that day and everything that followed. I suppose that is the precise term for what I’m feeling today: heavy boots. It saddens me deeply to think of how many people across the globe have lost their lives as a result of terrorism since 1979. Believe what you wish, but we are still very much at war.
It was unbearable. The whole thing. Every second worse than the last. I just kept thinking about calling him, wondering what would happen, if anyone would answer. In the last weeks, we’d been reduced to spending our time together in recollection, but that was not nothing. The pleasure of remembering had been taken away from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we’d done were less real and important than they had been hours before.
The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (Photo credit: theunquietlibrary)
Dear D.,
I’ve been meaning to write you all this past week for the obvious reason: August 15 would’ve been your 31st birthday. It pisses me off I can’t directly tease you about becoming a dirty old man despite the fact I am older than you. I still feel cheated out of years of memories of us. I suppose I had such a clear vision of us still arguing over memories in our 70s and 80s, just like your Great Aunts E. and G. and my Grandma, I still can’t quite believe it just wasn’t meant to be.
The passage above describes well what I feel nearly three years after you passed away. I’m afraid those quirky memories we made in childhood, high school, and then college will die if I happen to forget. I just don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to forget. I’m glad I read The Fault In Our Stars by John Green before I tried to write anything. Now this letter has a purpose.
That is what is so aggravating. Every time I think of you, what I want to say to you, or memories of us, it just seems to go nowhere. Without you here, who is left to really care, besides me? No one. Once I come to that conclusion for the hundredth time, I realize how futile writing a letter to you is. And yet, I can’t help it. I have to do something. There were way too many things left unsaid.
By the way, don’t get the impression that I’m the only one who remembers you. I can only imagine the hole left in your family. Just the other day I came across a post Carla posted on your Facebook wall. I know she misses you just as much as I do, as does Jelly. Some time ago I saw Jelly when I ordered something at Tony’s, and we just didn’t even know what to say to each other. It was the first time I saw her since you passed away. We talked about anything and everything else, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t first and foremost on our minds.
So here it goes. Here are a few memories of us:
High School –
Freshman Year. You ended up getting hours of detention for picking on me in Freshman English. It became so bad Miss V. quipped that you and I would probably end up married someday, we were that practiced at nagging each other. Every time I think of Friends, Romeo and Juliet, or Great Expectations, I think of Freshman English and you. I can almost feel you tapping me on the shoulder and hear you make some smartass remark about people trying to look like Courtney Cox. By the way, I know you knew you had it all wrong. The haircut was called the Rachel for a reason. You just liked to play dumb to get attention. I still find it amusing that you ended up with detention and I didn’t.
Prom. I will never forget you on Prom Night, senior year. You ended up taking my cousin K. (Rusty) as your date, and she became Prom Queen. I’d never seen you so incredibly happy. You had to tell everyone that you were the date of the Prom Queen and were genuinely happy for her. I know it is stupid, and I never admitted this, but until I saw you that happy, I was envious of K. If you’d asked me to the prom, I doubt I would’ve said yes. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t imagine it. It could’ve made up for years of us being ostracized by our class. We could’ve spent all night making snide remarks, joking around, and just proving everyone wrong. In the end, I don’t think either one of us had the guts.
Kayaking and Guy. I’ll never forget your Aunt L. and Guy visiting from Texas one summer. Somehow I was pressured into taking Guy kayaking. I don’t think I ever paddled so fast in my entire life. The entire trip was strange. I just felt like I had to show him up, he was that cocky. You were very right about him. I can understand why you two weren’t exactly friends. I’m trying in vain to remember whether or not you went with us. Maybe you just came to the Livery and didn’t go kayaking? It doesn’t matter. We did talk about Guy and came to the conclusion that he was a little too wrapped up in Friday Night Lights.
State. I distinctly remember the day we received our housing assignments for our first year at Michigan State. My jaw dropped when I realized not only were we going to attend the same university, we were assigned to the same dorm complex, Snyder-Phillips. Quite frankly, I wasn’t happy. I just wanted to start fresh as MSU, and there you would be, a reminder of school years I would rather forget. In the end, I’m so grateful for that simple twist of fate. Quite simply, college would not have been the same without you.
A National Championship and the Flintstones. I love the fact that we somehow found each other among throngs of people in Cedar Village after MSU won the 2000 National Championship. I think about that April night a lot. How could I not? That picture of us outside Cedar Village – you smoking a cigar and your arm around me, me smiling like my life depended on it – is among my favorites.
2nd Floor, Snyder Hall. You used to love hanging out on my floor in Snyder Hall. I’ll never forget the crazy 3 AM political conversations we had, Kim included. I just can’t wait until we have the first female President of the United States. I’ll smile, think about how you just lost a bet, and carry on, thinking about how very wrong you were the entire time. Sexism doesn’t pay.
Where were you? I’ll never forget getting a call from your Mom freshman year at State. She couldn’t get a hold of you and simply wanted to know if I knew where you were. I didn’t at that moment, and the entire thing broke my heart. I wish I could’ve helped her – and you.
Capstone. We’d lost track of each other during those years I studied abroad. Nevertheless, you found your way back into my life. You just wanted me to look over your résumé and rekindle our friendship. It worked. You once again became a fixture in my life.
Crunchy’s and a Broken Heart. D, I have no idea what your true feelings for me were, but you must have truly cared for me on some level, whether you wanted to acknowledge it or not. During the spring of 2004, as my life was endlessly shifting under me before I could even regain my footing, you somehow knew how heartbroken hearted I was. You knew that I simply needed a night out with an old friend who understood just how upset I was. I wanted that job in Austin desperately, not to mention the mess that was my personal life at that point. Many things happened that evening, of course , and even the next day. I’m not going to talk about them here, but I need to say this: Thank you! You knew just what I needed, even if I didn’t.
Brian. That same spring, 2004, I began my relationship with an old friend, Brian. Your teasing still makes me laugh. Some of it was so spot on, especially those jokes about how I could never have any fun while living in Arenac County. You basically stated that any night of debauchery in Arenac County would become common knowledge before I even made my way home. So very true. I got the sense that you were happy that I finally had a man in my life, my first true romantic relationship. Those were some wonderful days for Brian and I, and I think you could sense just how happy I was at that moment. If only I could live in those moments forever.
Aftermath.
A phone call or two. It still upsets me that we weren’t closer in those first few years after I graduated from Michigan State. I thought we would have time. Unfortunately that is what we didn’t have. There were several times I wanted to call you up and just lay everything on the line. I wanted to know what your feelings for me were. That was one thing I could never figure out. I wanted to know why you had so many issues with your Mom and brother, especially your Mom. I wanted to know what was really going on with you. Unfortunately we never had those conversations. I didn’t realize just how wrong things were until you were gone. It was too late.
Great Auntie G.’s Funeral. Of all my memories of you, your Great Aunt G.’s funeral stands out. It was the last time I ever saw you. It started immediately. We just gravitated toward one another. I suppose that’s no surprise as we were the only people under 50 in the room. Then, of course, my Grandma asked us to go get her a package of hearing aid batteries. We may have been at a funeral, but it sure didn’t take us long to start laughing our butts off once we were out the door. You either laugh or cry, right? You have to admit: It was the perfect excuse for us to catch up. After picking up the hearing aid batteries, you and I just drove around and reminisced. We covered a lot of ground from Standish to Omer. I’m so glad we had that opportunity. In a way, it was almost as if you were saying goodbye. The last time I saw you, you and your Dad were leaving the funeral home and walking toward the Granton. It angered me at the time, but I suppose everyone deals with death in their own way. I just never figured out how to deal with yours.
You have no way of knowing this, of course, but I never made it to your funeral. I ended up having to work. I suppose it is just as well as I would’ve been an absolute wreck. A few weeks after your funeral, I tried to find your grave. There were things left unsaid (most of which I am writing here today) and I wanted to get it all off my chest. There is so much in our hometown and in East Lansing that will always remind me of you.
And yet, there is one thing that still bugs me. What was our relationship? Whatever it was between us was much deeper than simple friendship, and yet we never had a romantic relationship, not even close. The closest thing I can come up with is that we were family without actually being related. We knew how to get on each other’s nerves, we knew how to make each other laugh and cry, and above all, I think we both cared. Was it really as simple as that? I like to think so. I love you and miss you.
Linds
PS – Oh, and one last thing. Your Mom. I never told you this, but your Mom happened to be my Grandpa’s favorite nurse. I know that you didn’t have a good relationship with her and it never was any of my business, but I am grateful to her. She took great care of my Grandpa when he was dying. I wish I could simply tell her thank you. I wish I could talk to her about you.
But the one thing that you have that nobody else has is you. Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision. So write and draw and build and play and dance and live as only you can.
The moment that you feel that, just possibly, you’re walking down the street naked, exposing too much of your heart and your mind and what exists on the inside, showing too much of yourself. That’s the moment you may be starting to get it right.
June 10th will mark 13 long years since I graduated from high school, and already eight long years passed since I graduated from Michigan State University. Unfortunately high school’s been on my mind lately. I happen to know a few members of the Class of 2012 fairly well. It is difficult to reconcile my image of them as children with the realization all three will be college freshman this fall.
I’m left wondering what lies ahead. Proper adulthood hasn’t impressed much to date. I’m old enough to know better, but young enough for a fresh start. I still have time. There is just so much I want to accomplish. At times I don’t know where to begin.
This may be a bit tongue and cheek, but I just had to write about it. First, I’ll provide a little background. My name is Lindsey Jenelle Russell. My Mom’s name is Leslie. When she named me way back in December 1980, she supposedly didn’t realize just how similar the names Leslie and Lindsey are. She never really thought about it. I’ve been living in the shadow every since.
It is important to note that not only did I attend the very same school district K-12 that my Mom did as a child, my Mom also taught in that district the entire time I was a student. I even ended up with a few teachers that she’d had 24 years earlier, several in fact. It was understandable that occasionally people in my hometown, so many of whom have known my Mom for decades, would call me Leslie. It never really bothered me, but nothing could prepare me for what happened next.
When I arrived on campus at Michigan State University in August 1999, I never dreamed the name Leslie would follow me. How wrong I was! Even though no one there knew my Mom, I would occasionally get called Leslie by professors, classmates, etc. When I met Brian’s Dad for the first time, before he even met my Mom or knew her name, he called me Leslie too. I must look like a Leslie. I have no way to explain it. It just keeps happening with people who in no way could know my Mom’s name. It is pretty funny. Sometimes I think I should just go with it and answer to Leslie.
Nah, I’m too much my own person. That is what makes it even funnier. My Mom and I look nothing alike. It is my sister and my Mom that look eerily similar. How my name gets mixed up with my Mother’s I will never know.
What an incredible week all around. My head’s full of ideas for my writing and Ramblings of a Misguided Blonde especially. I’m hoping to start series highlighting creative endeavors in and around the Great Lakes Bay region, both in the arts and in business. Nothing is set yet, but I have quite a few prospects. My reasoning behind the series is to show that there is still life here, both creatively and from a business standpoint. It is no secret that Michigan’s still not quite recovering from the recession of 2008-2009. Honestly, if you want the truth no one is willing to admit, Michigan never fully recovered after the terror attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. Just as things started getting a bit brighter, something always seemed to come along to set Michigan back, but enough of that deeply depressing topic.
I’m hoping to soon have a regular blogging schedule here. I realize how scattered the content has been as of late. There are so many things I want to do here. If you have any suggestions or would like to guest post, please simply leave me a comment. I’m open to new ideas.
Check out my newest page. It is part of my series of pages on my years at MSU (Michigan State University is the main page). Before I started writing down my thoughts on writing online, I didn’t fully realize just how deep my blogging roots go. It continues to amaze me just how quickly everything changes online.
Enjoy!
PS – You may also want to check out the page I created dedicated to MSU’s beautiful campus.
Readers may have noticed that I haven’t added much “new” material lately, unless they’ve looked closely. Lately I’ve been working very hard on the “pages” portion of the blog. I’m still working on getting it exactly how I want it. There are so many great topics, etc. coming up very shortly. Stay tuned!
I will shortly get back to our regularly scheduled programs. Promise. On a side note, I’ve really enjoyed reblogging as of late. I’m not going to share anything and everything, but what I do share caught my attention one way or another. Thus far I’ve enjoyed meeting other bloggers via reblogging. There are so many wonderful blogs out there! Enjoy.
In case you missed it, below are some of the new pages I created.
No new content. I just finally took the time to thoroughly work out the bugs in the HTML. If you haven’t taken the time to read this conversation, please do. The entire experience expanded my ideas as to what a blog can be.
Yes, I did it. I created a fan page for the Detroit Tigers. If you want to follow the Tigers this season, look no further. I embedded their complete schedule, included several links to lots of great information pertaining to roster, stats, etc., as well as added links to a few posts in which I discuss the Tigers. I also embedded a few of my favorite Tigers-related YouTube videos. It is going to be one heck of a season. Opening Day can’t get here quick enough.
I decided that I needed to pay homage to my alma mater. I included some priceless videos. It is also inspiring some additional pages coming very soon. I loved college and always will. Seriously.
I spent quite a bit of time on this one. I came across some wonderful politically inspired quotes, many from our Founding Fathers. I may add more as time goes on.
I decided to create this page due to the sheer number of pages I created. It is easier to understand what I’m doing when looking at the entire thing in this format. Please take a look. It will certainly be a work in progress.
I believe I forgot to mention just how much I love Freshly Pressed and WordPress. This beautiful Saturday morning I discovered the post below on Freshly Pressed. It is exactly what I need to hear today.
I had an earlier version of this post which I lost when Word decided to crash on me. Unfortunately the recovery version didn’t include the latest paragraph, and I accidently dumped the entire thing. In the end, it isn’t a bad thing. I started to discuss precisely why I need to hear the message in the above post today. It turned out to be incredibly lengthy and much more well-suited for my About Me page. I may just have to do that in the future. The gist of the message is this: I can’t understand why I am now so risk adverse in my career today when I was the EXACT opposite in my academic career at Michigan State University. I consider my years at MSU extremely successful. Unfortunately, I have yet to really do much of anything with my “career.” I’m merely getting by.
What is it with the Goo Goo Dolls? Two of their biggest hits in the very late 90s, Iris and Name seemed to follow me around my entire five years at Michigan State. I love the songs to be sure, but at the time, they were everywhere. To this day I am automatically taken back to MSU every single time I listen to either song.
Both songs are beautiful, even if somewhat depressing. Name happens to be off of the famous album A Boy Named Goo; Iris is off of the album Dizzy Up The Girl. Both songs were written by Johnny Rzeznik. Over a decade later, the Goo Goo Dolls still hold up. Enjoy.
For me, music is almost as powerful as smell when it comes to memory. This song will always remind me of my amazing senior year at Michigan State. It was everywhere.
