AGING GRACEFULLY?

This is a reprint of a blog I posted last year:

Berlin

Recently an acquaintance of mine who lives in Germany commented on my blog concerning the “Chic of French Women.”

Rome

To encapsulate his quite lengthy response which was sent to me through my private email, he basically stated his opinion on what he felt was the self -deprecating tendency of American women to use facelifts as beauty enhancements in order to combat the aging process.


What came to mind was how ironic his opinion was considering the fact that we both live among the antiquities of Europe.

Paris

Image what living here would be like without the nips and tucks of European restoration efforts. The way I see it is that we’d all be living as if we were in the bowels of the slums of Cairo.

Cairo

  Anyway....on another note:

                                                           

"Never let a man tell you "you look so beautiful stirring the soup'"

                     ~Josephine Premice

 

 

 

 

 

DIVIDE AND RULE

(google images)



So, today I rand across this headline:

"CANNES FILM FESTIVAL SLAMMED BY FEMINIST GROUP LA BARBE FOR EXCLUDING WOMEN DIRECTORS"



The feminist group La Barbe which started several years ago in response to the sexist media treatment of Segolene Royal in her race against Nicholas Sarkozy, has taken on one of the most sexist film establishments, the Cannes Film Festival for its exclusion of female directors from this year's competition. They are kind of like the Guerilla Girls in that they dress up in beards and as they say "crash high level meetings to protest male supremacy.")

This is my assessment of the situation:

Divide and Rule:

In politics and sociology, divide and rule (derived from Latin divide et impera) also known as divide and conquer is a combination of political, military and economic strategy of gaining and maintaining power by breaking up larger concentrations of power into chunks that individually have less power than the one implementing the strategy. The concept refers to a strategy that breaks up existing power structures and prevents smaller power groups from linking up.

Elements of this technique involve:

creating or encouraging divisions among the subjects in order to prevent alliances that could challenge the sovereign

• aiding and promoting those who are willing to cooperate with the sovereign
• fostering distrust and enmity between local rulers
• encouraging meaningless expenditures that reduce the capability for political and military spending

Historically this strategy was used in many different ways by empires seeking to expand their territories.

As a Black American let me give you Mother Africa as an example:

art by Ben Heine

The divide and conquer strategy was used by foreign countries in Africa during the colonial and post-colonial period.

Germany and Belgium ruled Rwanda and Burundi in a colonial capacity. Germany used the strategy of divide and conquer by placing members of the Tutsi minority in positions of power. When Belgium took over colonial rule in 1916, the Tutsi and Hutu groups were rearranged according to race instead of occupation. Belgium defined "Tutsi" as anyone with more than ten cows or a long nose, while "Hutu" meant someone with less than ten cows and a broad nose. The socioeconomic divide between Tutsis and Hutus continued after independence and was a major factor in the Rwandan Genocide.

Another example:

During British rule of Nigeria from 1900 to 1960, different regions were frequently reclassified for administrative purposes. The conflict between the Igbo and Hausa made it easier for the British to consolidate their power in the region.

• Regional, ethnic, and religious splits remain a barrier to uniting Nigeria, today.

So, you see, my analysis of the Cannes film festival situation and the film industry in general is this: perhaps if we women weren’t so bogged down in ideological wars between Lesbians and Straights, none of this kind of thing would be happening... on such an international level, no less!.

Afterall, women are a majority group, right?

Talk to you later...

ALL UP IN MY KOOL AID AND DON'T EVEN KNOW THE FLAVA'

Recently, a person wrote me asking how I handled racism in the South of France.  This person claimed they had lived here and found the people extremely racist to the point of driving him out of the country.  The writer claimed that they were East Asian and Caucasian. 

When I asked him to describe  his experiences, I never heard from him again.

He ran away.  Puff!

Numerous persons of color…all kinds of colors, let me tell you… have asked me about French racism assuming that I would be qualified to discuss racism in France simply because I’m Black.  

I am an American.

 I consider myself an expert on racism in America as an eighth generation (on my Mom’s side, even more on my Dad’s), Scots, Irish, Seminole, African decent American citizen, but am not arrogant enough to believe I am able to discuss something that exists in France between it’s Caucasian citizens and its immigrants from the former colonies….somebody’s former colonies, anyway.

Whatever racism which exists in France I’m sure is being worked out among its citizens as it was in America over a 500 year period of racial terrorism inflicted on a small racially mixed minority group called Nig___rs, Negros…uh, Colored people…um Afro…um Blacks Ummmm……

Anyway, the Black people of America who were imported in chains to build the very infrastructure of a new Western, Eurocentric society had to find a way with very little help from the outside world to assert its humanity in their own country.  No one ever threatened American with divestiture, for example, due to its human rights violations of the Negroes of the US. 

We had to do the work all by ourselves.

Racism in America, is violent, institutional, simultaneously blatant and subtle and is incredibly, incredibly Butch!  You know?

"Those who kill their own children and discriminate daily against them because of the color of their skin; those who let the murderers of blacks remain free, protecting them, and furthermore punishing the black population because they demand their legitimate rights as free men—how can those who do this consider themselves guardians of freedom?"”

                                                                  ~Ernesto "Che" Guevara

Why ask me about French people?  Ask the colored French people about French people.

Perhaps there is certain air of nobility which surrounds people who have risen above oppressive regimes the way Black Americans have, which might elicit envy among others, who have no idea of who you are except for Will Smith movies, Mike Tyson, Martin Luther King speeches and Jazz music.  As a result they try to *“bite offa yo’ history” with a “high five.”

*BITING:

(Definition: Copying in a plagiaristic context, though mainly just unoffical fad-related things; such as made-up words, clothing styles, types of music, etc.

ie: "Dude, those kids are totally biting on my style!"

                                                                      ~The Urban Dictionary)

What bothers me in France is far more complex than the so-called racial issues.

My problem is, why do the people in the North of France look at those of us who choose to live in the South of France, as right wing country bumpkin imitations of residents of the 16^th arrondissement in Paris? 

Answer that one, instead of trying to “steal my kool aid”.

Get it?


another viewpoint: http://deloryswelchtyson.blogspot.fr/2010/07/racism-in-france-is-it-racism-or.html

POACHING FOR EUROS: Part 1

First, I would like to emphasize that this Post is targeted specifically to American women in France, and those looking to live in France…actually to American woman everywhere.

Not long ago, I was having lunch with some American women who happened to be married to or living with French men. They were exploring the reasons for the difficulties in developing friendships with French women.

Reasons explored ranged from “they tend to make their friends in elementary school» or “they are so busy with their raising their families and cooking gourmet meals for their men, or “they are not as liberated as American women…they close their eyes to their men’s affairs” to “I am so intimidated by those stylish French women and their chic, black ensembles.”

It made me reflect on the numerous books on the allure of French women published by Anglophones.

After indulging in a conversation and theories that went nowhere, we changed the subject, finished lunch after which I returned home to the comfy familiarity of my American husband.

Later that day, I looked up books on Amazon.fr to see whether French women extolled the feistiness, progressive and liberated openness… or anything else positive at all…about the American woman.

I found nothing!

Nothing titled, “Unlock Your Inner American Woman”, “Those Lucky American Chicks Who Mostly Sleep Alone,” or even “The American Amazons of the Women’s Liberation Movement: What On Earth Is Their Secret?”.

Again...absolutely nothing.

(Perhaps some of you out there might be able to name a few for me). It simply appeared to me that here was no reciprocal interest between French and American women, regarding anything! Not even PMS.

Over the years I’ve met French women who expressed in subtle and diplomatic ways a curiosity of what the attraction American women had for their lifestyles…French cuisine and politesse, notwithstanding… and their men, in particular. It seemed to them that we, American women, had access to more wealth, comforts and gorgeous men of such diversity that it was globally enviable. Or so they said.

I kid you not!

It’s no wonder that thousands upon thousands of French women every year clandestinely flock to Greenwich (Village), San Francisco and Disney World in search of the American Woman’s secret allure and wonderful quality of life!

But then…I digress…

Although, I can personally understand the unpredictable power of love and the unpredictability of where one might unearth a lover or mate in this big wide world, I can also understand the ominous consequences of choosing a life partner from a tribe whose women are an unknown entity to a newcomer.

When a woman enters a foreign culture she instantly acquires the status of the women of that culture. Remember that.

On impact, I might look like a poacher, myself. However, my girly- girl posse, prior to marriage and for most of my life, actually, consisted of primarily members of the tribe among whom I eventually found my mate. It was inevitable that I would end up marrying one of the members of their family. I had been acculturated by the population of that particular tribe already and was quite familiar with the nuances of the male-female relationships within that tribe.

My advice to my American sisters: Do some serious research. Put romantic notions on the back burner...especially after your sweet sixteenth birthday. Read up on American foreign relations… think twice before poaching. It could prove hazardous to one's emotional, financial, social and spiritual well being.

Of course, that is unless one is a War or Mail Order Bride. Then that’s a whole ‘nother story…n’est-ce-pas?

AN EXPAT BOOK REVIEW

Recently, I met an American expat who also lives in the South of France.  She has begun a blog which reviews books written about American women living abroad.  Her review of a novel, called Blackgammon had me in stitches.  I have permerssion from her to share it with you on my blog.



TWO FRIENDS AND A TALE OF TWO COUNTRIES:

BLACKGAMMON by Heather Neff

“Understand this, Michael : There’s no such thing as a sanctuary. “

Believe me when I say that the pessimistic opening line of this intriguing novel belies the apparent optimism of the writer’s vision.  At least this is what I concluded after reading this story which chronicles friendship of two women from two different generations whose destinies were to work, live and try to love in Europe.

Michael…that’s right her name is Michael…lives in the academic environment of England, as professor of…predictably…African American literature with her husband a brilliant English scholar of ….you guessed it…African literature.

Cloe Emmnauel is a….. painter.  Well, at least she not a Naomi Campbell clone or an  aspiring chocolate Hemmingway squandering her days away playing with the green fairly in the squalor of bohemian Paris.  I’ll get to those books later.

Nevertheless, the two women met by chance in an American museum.  The older woman, planning to flee to Paris after  a disastrous romance with an Black-Canadian immigrant (yes, you read that correctly) and the other a quasi-orphan with dreams of living abroad, meet, become fast friends and  vowed to keep in touch.

They kept their vow throughout the novel through letters and occasional visits involving heart wrenching revelations..

Cloë the painter struggles with domestic violence issues from her past while trying to negotiate some equilibrium between her increasingly successful and demanding career and her challengingly peculiar love life.  The cultural and ethnic dynamics of her personal relationships with the men in her life will  definitely baffle any female reader who has lived abroad for any length of time, yet despite the implausibility of her mates you will probably gladly follow the story to its conclusion because of the vivid images of the cosmopolitan lifestyle of these two friends.

Black American women living abroad will obviously react  to the relationship configurations of these two women with a certain degree of scepticism.  More than a touch of mendacity and hints of multi-cultural treason prevail in this tragic-comic novel of the search for identity, love and, professional success.

The problem I find with novels written about American women abroad is that there is a stereotypical quality to the life choices of these women.  It places limits on the perceptions of the black American experience abroad, which limits the kind of novels we can expect  to be disseminated through the mainstream publishing industry.

Despite what probably feels like a negative review of Blackgammon, I actually thoroughly enjoyed it on many levels.

Next I will review, Andrea Lee’s LOST HEARTS IN ITALY

Thanks Maxwell...you're a "hoot"!!!

The EU Blues: The Countdown

"Get that guy out of our organization"
~unknown

"Get this guy out of our orgaization!"
                                           ~unknown

"Yo man! How in the hell did that guy get in here?
                                                 ~unknown

"Pay your bills!!!! Leave Us Alone!!!!


(google images)

White Trash Europe, or: What the Hell Am I Doing In This Neighborhood?!?

(google images)

First let me emphasize the fact that I neither designed this Tee Shirt nor coined this phase. Nevertheless, it brings up the topic of why there are such troubling conditions and conflicts in the European Union.


For those of you who don’t know, the expression White Trash is an American English pejorative term referring to poor white people in the United States. It suggests lower social class and degraded living standards.

The definition "white trash" emphasizes the person's moral failings.

If you’re living in Europe, I think you can probably already see where I’m going with this!

I was a wide-eyed Green Horn, in the South of France, enjoying one of my first dinners chez des copains francophones, the first time I became involved in a discussion of the EU many, many years ago. To be more precise, it was sometime in the 80s.

The host and hostess and two other couples were French, the language of the dinner party was French but several other European countries were represented at the table: German, Italian, Danish, a French Swiss and then there was me…the lone American.

They explained to me how a United Europe would give them the kind of market base which would rival the US. That it would be a sort of “United States of Europe”.

Then I emphasized the fact the despite regional differences, and that although we didn’t actually have an official language, that we in the US spoke American English. They then informed me, with pride and enthusiasm, that the language of business and commerce would indeed be English.

A vague disturbance rumbled quietly among the diner guests when I asked which English they would be using in these business transactions.

No one ventured to tell me, on the other hand, which language would be that of diplomacy among their leaders.

When some said that a United Europe would protect them from “The Yellow Menace”, I wasn’t sure whether they were being sarcastic or actually being polite. Perhaps they meant someone or something else since there were no “yellows” sitting at the table.

My preference for life in France, I told them, had a lot to do with the fact that I found more compatibility with the Gallic way of life than of the Germanic definitions of order and precision or the Spanish concept of time, Belgian randomness and uncertainty, or the dubious Italian sense of business etiquette.

When I expressed my enjoyment of the diversity and uniqueness of each national culture of Europe, I was told that a United Europe would prevent war among them in the future….or something like that anyway… if I remember correctly.

It was quite an enjoyable dinner, actually, despite the fact that I could see the seeds of familiar discord among the Europeans beginning to spout.

Nevertheless, they appeared to be unanimously excited by the prospect of all of Europe going into business together in order to better compete with the Yellow Menace…whatever that is… and the economic clout of the US.

Years later, after the EU became official, I was taking a business class here in the South of France. My French business professor explained how the high level of unemployment in France was causing apathy among job seekers to the point where many had simply given up searching for employment. The City of Nice, for instance , had become a proletariat town with new residents from all over crowding into the area seeking the promise of “the Good Life”…whatever that is…

She described in great detail how the general quality in life in France for the French was “en train de dégringoler (Going into the sewer…Caput! Fini!  Bye bye!)

Then there is the issue of some snide members of the EU.

Let’s take Great Britain, for example.

How can The United Kingdom be a member in the EU when the English don’t even consider themselves in Europe: “I’m visiting Europe this summer,” or “I’m moving to Europe,” they say.

Imagine the rationality around something like this: Great Britain is composed of four countries, England, Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales.

In additiona to all this, England doesn’t even acknowledge the importance of the Euro as their unit of monetary exchange.

They might as well let Turkey in. Who knows whether they, too, are on the continent of Europe.

The English have always cracked me up with their wily ways.

Why does Europe seem to be teetering on the edge of an abyss? Perhaps this is what happens when a population reacts to concepts of color instead of the possible incompatibilities of various cultures.


It’s also when you tear down all the picket fences protecting the privacy and sanctity of ones’ neighbours’ property.

What the EU represents to me the is the joining of the hands of a polyglot confusion of economically unequal, white people, semi-white people and wanna- be white people for absolutely no reason at all.

Just a silly deflection from more important issues.

Some things are just logical sequences of events!

http://thenovelladyfingers.wordpress.com

http://gingersnapsanovel.wordpress.com/

Ugly Words and "Jacked-Up" Concepts

photos from Google Images

Sometimes I feel that someone has vandalized the culture of the American English language, spray painted all over it. Just trampled rough shod all over the beauty, nuances and melodies of our words and expressions. Or ... perhaps I've just been romantically involved...cohabitating... with this seductive, mesmerising and thoroughly precise French language for a long, long time.

The following are some of the words that create a feeling of a whooshing whirlpool of churning acid in the pit of my stomach whenever they are uttered in my presence:

Political Correctness: (adjectivally, politically correct; both forms commonly abbreviated to PC) is a term which denotes language, ideas, policies, and behavior seen as seeking to minimize social and institutional offense in occupational, gender, racial, cultural, sexual orientation, certain other religions, beliefs or ideologies, disability, and age-related contexts, and, as purported by the term, doing so to an excessive extent.

Poppy cock on all of that! The most precise word, which has existed long before the invention of that awkward phrase would be Diplomacy. Simple diplomacy and respect toward other human beings. What does it take to grant everyone their humanity by displaying basic sensitivity? Not that complex, really.

Twitter or Tweet. An insult to birds and human beings. Personally I maintain communications with my friends, relatives and acquaintences, through letters,phone calls, cards, and emails. Birds communicate…at least the ones in my neighbourhood… though sophisticated vocal projections!

Newbie. Sound like a child’s toy, not a human being.

Venue : the locality where a crime is committed or a cause of action occurs; b. The locality or political division from which a jury is called and in which a trial is held; c. The clause within a declaration naming the locality in which a trial will be held; d. The clause in an affidavit naming the place where it was sworn to.

Mostly negative connotations...n'est-ce-pas?

Moi...I as a writer would prefer having a reading in a bookstore or an auditorium, as a painter I would show in a gallery, as a performer I would expect to appear in a nightclub, concert hall, stadium or theatre.

Who needs Venues? Sounds suspicious to me. I'd stay away from 'em, myself.

Foodie. Sounds like a word that a hungry toddler would use trying to get its parents attention.

I feel that one may be a gourmet or connoisseur, otherwise just an ordinary human being who must eat to live. On the other hand if one believes that one "lives to eat" that would mean that there is some sort of medical disorder which should be explored by a doctor of some kind…if you get my drift!

Blog. Such and ugly word. Soulds like something that would be clogging up my drain pipe.. I ‘d prefer to think of your so-called blogs as personal journals and thoughts that you choose to share with me… gifts…offerings. Something precious and beautiful.

Niggah. No matter what the spelling or context, it's ridiculoulsly insulting, unessessary and should eventually cease to exist, along with such terminologies as Honky, Spic, Kike, Wop, Chink, Wog, Bitch….etc.

Going viral : Viral marketing, viral advertising, or marketing buzz are buzzwords referring to marketing techniques that use pre-existing social networks to produce increases in brand awareness or to achieve other marketing objectives (such as product sales) through self-replicating viral processes, analogous to the spread of viruses or computer viruses...

Yada... yada... yada...yada...oh, Honey..pul-eese! The word Viral has the most horrific connotation I can image, conjuring up flu viruses, Leprocy, communicable diseases like the Bubonic Plague and A.I.D.S.

The word VIRAL had become infectuous and quite frankly, just hearing it makes me sick !

Transparency: a. Easily seen through or detected; obvious: transparent lies; .b. Free from guile; candid or open: transparent sincerity.

There is a fine line between clarity or honesty and a transparency which could render one completely vulnerable to manipulation and destruction. As in: "he/she is such a transparent fool!"

To Grow Your Jobs, Businesss or Money: If I wanted agricultural advice, I’d consult a Farmer or an Agronomist. Otherwise, I would prefer to expand my business, augment my investments, increase the number of jobs in order to restore the strength of our economy.

Often, even when someone is attempting to defend my position in some situtation I can actually feel that I am being raped by words and jargon.

For example, I recently recived a copy of a letter that my attorney sent to Random House Publishing Group, requesting a reversion of rights in order that I am able to re-issue my novel, Gingernsnaps.  This is an excerpt:

...We write on behalf of Authors Guild member Ms. Dolorys Welch-Tyson, author of the above- referenced work, with whom Ballantine Books, an imprint of Random House Inc., entered into a publishing agreement in 1997.  Ms. Welch-Tyson has informed us that she requested a reversion of rights for the above-referenced work in May 2009, but was never granted such by Ballantine.  

Since Ballantine has made clear that it has no intention of exploiting the above-referenced work in any  manner in the future, we ask that it revert rights to Ms. Welch-Tyson immediately. ....




You see?

Exploit: 1) To make use of selfishly or unethically: a country that exploited peasant labor. See Synonyms at manipulate. 2). A vulnerability in software that can be used for breaking security or otherwise attacking an Internet host over the network. The Ping O' Death is a famous exploit.

or, course there is always the other way of looking at it:

Exploit:
1) To employ to the greatest possible advantage: exploit one's talents; 2). To advertise; promote.

Should I call the cops, or what?



“…the need to examine, analyze the language we see and hear… for the connotations all too often diverge wildly from the denotations, and, if we are unaware of that, our thinking can be hijacked.”


                                                                       ~Jerry DeNuccio

Expat Angst: Why Occuppy Wall Street? Part 2...

...Or the 2,000,002nd Reason I Left!

"Bye Y'all"
painting by delorys welch-tyson

Let me pick up where I left off…


Now, when there are two paychecks in a household a family unit might develop an erroneously inflated sense of economic worth. Suddenly the family finds that they are paying outrageous prices for small, often unnecessary things. The traffic suddenly decides to bear surrealist prices for flotsam and jetsum: whether it’s a ten-buck cup of coffee or a one bedroom apartment facing an alleyway in Manhattan for $4,000,000. The family begins to believe they are entitled to things that no longer have the value they had in their parents’ generation. No one is going to sell you an overpriced house or apartment to you if you are unwilling to buy it. It’s quite simple really. It simply requires a collective American and realistic philosophy regarding what something is actually worth and why.

Where once, one could achieve a decent education for a moderate price at a State University or for free at a City University, now everyone is vying for an overpriced ivy league education in order to major in philosophy or basket weaving, then wonder why they can’t find employment when they graduate.

google image

Whose fault is this?

Perhaps one should look around, while occupying Wall Street, to see who really might be occupying their jobs if they can’t find they can’t land one in their chosen field.

I realize I’ve been absent from the United States for quite some time, but I remember that all of my professional service providers, whether they be lawyers, doctors, teachers, engineers, journalists, editors or bank employees were all college graduates. People with college degrees (usually some kind of liberal arts endeavor) who worked for retail establishments were all occupying temporary gigs until they could figure out what profession they would pursue. I’m assuming they were all American people. Of course I never checked their birth certificates…so who knows.

Perhaps I’ve just been gone too long. I have no idea what my American brethren are talking about, anymore.

**Perhaps I should just find a venue where they’re trending, to grow my knowledge of things going viral so that I can offer more transparency to my dissed homies!

**(See my blog post: Ugly Words and Jacked-Up Concepts)

Blaxpat Quote for November: Living Abroad

Some have said that, as a foreigner, it's difficult making friends abroad. This is what I tell them:

"The two most misused words in the entire English vocabulary are love and friendship. A true friend would die for you, so when you start trying to count them on one hand, you don't need any fingers."
                                                                                                     ~ Larry Flynt


Alors...bon séjour!

Running Late!

Google Images



View from Windows on the World Restaurant

  I realize that this is October 11th…an entire month after most expats have posted their remembrance of 9/11. Finally here is mine.

So sorry about running late!

We had already been living in France, in Villefranche Sur Mer, for over two years on that fateful day when we were running late for an appointment in Nice.

My husband called me into our Den, pointed to the TV screen and said, “Look at this! What do you think of this?”

We both stared… horrified… at the image of a blazing tower of the World Trade Center. The news announcer had said that a plane had flown into the building.

Realizing that, as native New Yorkers, many of our friends and relatives were still living in the New York City Metropolitan area and that it appeared that they were now under attack, we looked at one another…speechless…and frightened in a manner we had never experienced in our entire adult life.

"Perhaps those N.Y.U. film students are up to their old shenanigans again…seizing the TV stations...or something...,” I quipped, in a misguided attempt at adding levity to our state of confusion..

What one earth was going on?



Should we call home?



We did. All the lines were busy.



We were running late for our appointment in Nice.



We turned off the TV got in our car and immediately turned on the news on Riviera Radio, just in time too hear the announcer state quite flatly that ‘the Twin Towers were no more!”

Impossible!



That massive structure… the Titanic of Manhattan (I had prophetically called it for years), could not possibly be gone! Transforming from a flaming inferno of death and destruction... to now toxic rubble. After all, we had just had dinner with friends at its restaurant, Windows on the World, a couple of years earlier for my birthday!

Impossible! Ridiculous!

Those film school students should be flogged, I thought again, just not wanting to believe.

We went though the rest of the day, after our appointment, running errands and buying newspapers. Not a single person we encountered in our local French Riviera towns seemed to us to have heard or read anything, despite the screaming headlines. Not one person broached the subject. Not a twit or tweet…so to speak.

Anyway when we finally got through to various friends and relatives in New York City, over the next few days, this is what we heard:

“I was running late…looked out my window and saw a plane flying into one of the towers…”

Another:

“I was running late, I turned on the TV to see that a second plane had already flown into the World Trade Center building. I realized I would not be going to work!”

Another:

“I was running late. My view from Jersey faces lower Manhattan. When I looked out my window, I saw smoke. I put on my binoculars to see what was happening. There was no way I was going to work that day!”

Another:

“My husband and I were running late on the Long Island Railroad. When we arrived at Grand Central there was pandemonium. Everyone screaming about a terrorist attack in lower Manhattan. I realized, then that I had no physical courage.”

And another:

“I was running late. When I arrived at the lobby of my apartment building, my Doorman said that there had been an attack on the World Trade building. Obviously I wasn’t exacting going to go to work. All I know is that I better get paid this month!”

And finally…

"I was running late to my job at the World Trade Center.. If I had arrived minutes earlier, I would not be here talking to you at this very moment because I would have been in the building's elevator when the first plane hit the building!”

My conclusion is that, as my Mom would say, I am "truly blessed” to have had tardy friends and relatives!

For the record though, despite surviving the worst catastrophe in North American history committed on North American soil, the general fall- out resulted in a certain amount of alienation from friends Stateside.. An alienation which generally grows between those who have physically survived a holocaust and those who only experienced one in theory or by distance.


Those survivors in New York had to continue to work and breath in contaminated air. All had to work, in various ways, through posttraumatic stress disorders and a lingering and haunting fear that there had not yet been closure in the assault.

Nevertheless we all still live…except one friend who I lost three years ago to the long-term effects of having to continue to work at her office near Ground Zero.


She had been running late that day as well.