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 Coping
with the 9.11.01 Aftermath
Ode to America
When you
think the US isn't thought well of all over the world, read this editorial from
a Romanian Newspaper.
Why are Americans
so united? They don't resemble one another even if you paint them! They speak
all the languages of the world and form an astonishing mixture of
civilizations. Some of them are nearly extinct, others are incompatible with
one another, and in matters of religious beliefs, not even God can count how
many they are.
Still, the American tragedy turned three hundred million people into a hand put
on the heart. Nobody rushed to accuse the White House, the army, the secret
services that they are only a bunch of losers. Nobody rushed to empty their
bank accounts. Nobody rushed on the streets nearby to gape about.
The Americans volunteered to donate blood and to give a helping hand. After the
first moments of panic, they raised the flag on the smoking ruins, putting on
T-shirts, caps and ties in the colors of the national flag. They placed flags on
buildings and cars as if in every place and on every car a minister or the
president was passing. On every occasion they started singing their traditional
song: "God Bless America!".
Silent as a rock, I watched the charity concert broadcast on Saturday once,
twice, three times, on different TV channels. There were Clint Eastwood, Willie
Nelson, Robert de Niro, Julia Roberts, Cassius Clay, Jack Nicholson, Bruce
Springsteen, Sylvester Stalone, James Wood, and many others whom no film
producers could ever bring together. The American's solidarity spirit turned
them into a choir. Actually, choir is not the word. What you could hear was
the heavy artillery of the American soul.
What neither George W. Bush, nor Bill Clinton, nor Colin Powell could say
without facing the risk of stumbling over words and sounds, was being heard in a
great and unmistakable way in this charity concert.
I don't know how it happened that all this obsessive singing of America didn't
sound croaky, nationalist, or ostentatious! It made you green with envy because
you weren't able to sing for your country without running the risk of being
considered chauvinist, ridiculous, or suspected of who-knows-what mean
interests.
I watched the live broadcast and the rerun of its rerun for hours listening to
the story of the guy who went down one hundred floors with a woman in a
wheelchair without knowing who she was, or of the Californian hockey player, who
fought with the terrorists and prevented the plane from hitting a target that
would have killed other hundreds or thousands of people.
How on earth were they able to bow before a fellow human? Imperceptibly, with
every word and musical note, the memory of some turned into a modern myth of
tragic heroes. And with every phone call, millions and millions of dollars were
put in a collection aimed at rewarding not a man or a family, but a spirit which
nothing can buy.
What on earth can unite the Americans in such a way? Their Land? Their
galloping history? Their economic power? Money? I tried for hours to find an
answer, humming songs and murmuring phrases which risk of sounding like common
places.
I thought things over, but I reached only one conclusion. Only freedom can work
such miracles!
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