I remember a quandary presented in a Jude Law movie a decade or so ago. Others have contemplated it, but the film-portrayal stayed with me. Question: Is it better to be smart or lucky? Through the years, my husband and I have decided on our answer, and with little hesitation always choose “lucky.”
This past week, during innumerable memorials of 9/11, stories of being lucky have been profound and sometimes bittersweet or even eerie. Small decisions made that day – not from being wise, organized or forewarned, but just by happenstance, saved countless souls.
Where Were We?
Elderly generations may rehash the bombing of Pearl Harbor. We, a bit younger, vividly remember, and sadly reminisce about, the day Kennedy was assassinated. Added to that, a newer, but ‘old-enough’ generation will now recall and recount ‘where they were’ on 9/11. Life stops. We barely breathe. It’s similar to experiences with death that are closer to home.
Not one to start my day bright and early, the phone ringing jangled my nerves. My friend Lupe was calling from California, early in the Pacific time zone. I can’t recall exactly what she exclaimed through her heavy accent, other than “turn on your TV.” Like so many, my husband and I stood transfixed and aghast in front of the screen. Then the second one hit. Or was that the video replay…. replay… replay? I will never be certain.
I don’t have first-hand experience of incredible fear that day; it was closer to the terror sensed watching a horror movie – powerless from a distance. Later, we were all to learn the level of both horror and terror – and terrorism, which was to become such a big word in the vocabulary of our lives.
My most immediate concern was for a dear, close friend who worked in the wall-street district. I couldn’t get her on the phone. I left too many messages not to be annoying. I wondered if it was the cell phone network problems (remember they were jammed) or if something unimaginable had happened to her.
The Day Inched On
Not all things were cancelled that day. Schools were in session, businesses opened and meetings held. All, despite TVs blaring everywhere with glazed-eyes common and searching for updates. Confusion reined and sharing made the shock a bit easier to handle.
I decided to attend a League of Women Voters meeting scheduled that morning in Scottsdale. The smaller-than-usual group fumbled through the meeting, the subject I cannot verify although I tried as I wrote this. What I remember more clearly is that, ignoring vague pangs of guilt, some of us agreed to share our concerns and worries over lunch together.
It was a good group to turn to for practical solace. Not usually folks who jumped to uninformed positions, this time was different. Speculations were as high as information was low and lacking. Sparse details allowed woeful conjectures to rage about Who-What-Why. Every new bit of fact shed dim light, but little hopefulness. Where will it happen next? Who has declared war on us? Is it war? Are we safe here? What can we do?
During lunch, I finally got a message from my NYC friend. Hours of walking home, difficult breathing through soot and tears and fears of her own and others, at least she was physically safe. Years to come would tell a different emotional story.
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A Lesson in Luck
During lunch that day, we also heard another thread of good luck and a reason to smile. (We still could.) After 20 years, I can’t attest to the fact, but I believe it was Eleanor, one of our League of Women Voters members, who shared this. The quivering voice I remember for sure.
That Tuesday was Election Day in NYC. Eleanor, who had ‘brought her son up right and always to vote’ spoke with him the night before about the primary mayoral campaigns. Before she knew any outcome – that conversation was a slight comfort. He worked on wall-street. He was late going in that morning. He had stopped to vote. Twenty years later it gives me chills.
Returning to the idea of “smart or lucky,” let me harmonize it with voting. It’s nice to simply be lucky, but if we want to feel blessed with our chosen government, we need to be smart enough to always cast our ballot.
I know of that one life saved when he stopped to vote, as his LWV-mother taught him. I never plan to take it for granted.
Yes, I always pick “lucky” as my preference. Yet, I try to be grateful to the fates, be reasonably smart and show enough respect not to “push my luck” in irresponsible ways. Destiny can always use a helping hand.
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Final Thought
In memory of all those lost, and particularly for all those who experienced loss, during this event…. and for the many which have followed.
drb
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Picture credit: This Photo of memorial light by Unknown Author is licensed under CC BY-SA-NC
