The recent terrorist bombings of the WTC has been on my mind a lot and what I wanted to say to their leader became a subplot to a story I was writing about what happened to CC/Niles, Max/Fran and the children on that horrific day.
by
It was Saturday afternoon, September 15, 2001. CC sat in the living room sofa and reflected on the events that had happened in the past four days after the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. Wednesday afternoon, Maxwell had left for his lodge in Vermont and had taken Fran with him along with their twins, Gracie, Val and her daughter. Fran had promised to take good care of her. Maxwell had used the new 7-seater Mercedes Benz ML-430. He was driving and he said the trip would be a good way of breaking in the SUV. They were coming back on Monday. Val was invited to come along for the trip when CC and Niles declined the invitation to go with them. They were the only ones left at the mansion.
Luckily, none of their extended family was hurt or missing on the day of the attacks. Thank God, Brighton was in California, visiting some friends and was returning home late next week to start attending his classes. He had already pre-enrolled and arranged his schedule. Had he been home, he could have been in the vicinity of the attack because he liked hanging out at The Rockefeller Park near the World Financial Center. It's also where he takes the ferry sometimes to go to Hoboken because he didn't like taking the PATH train. Maggie and Michael were in Rome for a modeling assignment he had to fulfill. Gracie had been in class nearby. She and Maxwell were in the office reviewing scripts for their next production. Fran and Niles were somewhere in the mansion with the babies.
Her father had almost become a victim of the suicide bombers. He was scheduled for a meeting in an office at 1 World Trade Center. On the way to that meeting, his limousine had hit a deep pothole. He was thrown against the privacy screen and he got a gash on his forehead. While he was being treated at St. Vincent's Hospital, they heard the drone of a low-flying plane. Being a well-seasoned war veteran triggered something in Stuart Babcock. He frowned and made a remark that it sounded like a plane on a bombing run. Unconsciously triggered by his instincts, he had ran out the door to follow the path of that plane and saw it whole for about two seconds before it slammed and exploded into the North tower of the World Trade Center. "GOD DAMN IT!! It's a terrorist attack!" He whipped out his cellphone to call 911. Seconds later, the doctor was by his side, breathing heavily from trying to catch up with him. His eyes were riveted at the burning building, but his mind was on his work. "Mr. Babcock, let's go back in. We'll be busy soon with victims from that explosion and I'm not done stitching that cut. It's still bleeding." Stuart absentmindedly wiped away the blood with a handkerchief as they walked back into the clinic. He called CC to let her know what had just happened. He also told her that when he was done being treated at the clinic, he would swing by to see her and his granddaughter. He tried to get in touch with his business contact that morning but there was no answer. He was fervently hoping that people were able to get out of that burning tower.
He walked back to where his limo was parked and told his driver to just drop him off at the Sheffield Mansion. The deafening cacophony of wailing sirens of ambulances, fire trucks and police cars racing downtown just added to the tension he already felt. It was slow moving because of all the vehicles heading downtown that Stuart told his driver that he was just going to walk the last 10 blocks. He was already halfway to the mansion when he heard another blast. He turned around to see a plume of smoke coming from the other tower. He suddenly felt old and tired. He said a silent prayer for everybody caught in those bombings downtown even when he was experiencing strong feelings that it was just a futile gesture. Stuart Babcock was an experienced Navy man and he knew that the intensity of those blasts could incinerate and obliterate a human body. There would be nothing left to see, especially after a jet-fueled fire blast like that. He had seen that happen more than he cared to remember. He was a hotshot Navy flier in World War II and in Korea. Recalling the things he had seen in the wars made him shiver.
He arrived at the mansion and Niles opened the door when he rang. He shook Niles' hand
and then pulled him closer to grasp Niles' right shoulder with his left hand. "Niles, please don't you ever, ever break my daughter's heart, because if you do, I am gonna personally break your balls. Got it?" Niles had a comeback for that but had choked it down when he saw the grim expression in his father-in-law's eyes. Stuart meant every word of it. He just nodded. CC came running out of the office, straight into his arms and he held her as tightly as he could. "Kitten! Guess what? I'm retiring!"
"You're what? I thought making deals in high finance is what you live for?"
"Not after today kitten. That's it. I have more than enough money. I'm gonna start enjoying the good life without the stress. By the way, where's my granddaughter?"
Stuart spent the rest of the day with them hugging his granddaughter who loved to run her hands through his hair and called him 'Ampa'. He even tried to feed her but ended up with mash potatoes on his face, hair and clothes. He had slept overnight in the guestroom.
They had gathered in the living room to watch the heinous events that unfolded that day. Maxwell had picked up Gracie from her school. Brighton had sent email via his Palm Pilot at about 1:00pm. He was still sleepy because it was 10:00am on the West coast. He was asking why they had left messages on the front desk for him to call them the minute he ordered breakfast from room service. He had tried to call on all the mansion's phone numbers and then everybody's cellphones but he couldn't get through so he had used email instead. The phone lines were on the fritz. The cellular phones wouldn't work either when the towers had collapsed. Gracie was so traumatized that she made an appointment to see Dr. Bort; fortunately, that call went through. Since the phone lines weren't working, Gracie and Brighton had logged on and used MSN Messenger to communicate with each other. She had suggested using the phone in his hotel room to get in touch with Maggie in Italy to let her know that they were ok. He also called Fran's parents in Queens to make sure they knew that their mishpoche in Manhattan were ok and relayed their message back to Fran via MSN Messenger. CC had also asked him to call her brother Noel at Northwestern University to let him know she was ok.
Brighton was glad that he had gotten broadband cable DSL Internet connection for the mansion instead of the slowpoke dial-up 56k modem that relied on phone lines. Well, he had wanted a T1 line but Maxwell had blown a gasket at the expense and told him that T1 lines were ideal for Internet-reliant businesses and not for personal use. Maxwell didn't really know what Brighton meant by T1, 56k modems, Broadband connections, DSL and such; he had asked an acquaintance who owned a computer software business to give him some tips.
For the past four days, Niles and CC had been taking it day by day, trying to go on with their lives as normally as they could. But at night since the terrorist bombings, CC had been asking Niles to hold her in his arms, to enfold her within his body. It was the only way she could go to sleep. She had also been asking him lately to make love to her often and to show her how much he loves her; Niles was only too happy to comply with her requests. On Thursday, she had asked Niles to go with her to a Red Cross satellite office where she dropped off a check for $50,000 courtesy of Sheffield-Babcock Productions Inc. She had called Maxwell and he had agreed to donate that amount.
Yesterday morning, heeding the pleas for clothing donations, she had gone through Niles' wardrobe and took the opportunity to rid it of all the clothes that didn't appeal to her taste. Niles protested but saw that she was too determined and when she threatened him with lack of sex, he quickly gave up his objections. That was one thing that was hard to give up, never mind giving up the clothes then. They had delivered the clothes to the Salvation Army center on 14th Street. On the way home, they had seen the gathering of people at Union Square and they decided to join the candlelight vigil scheduled that night after eating dinner at the mansion. It was both a heartbreaking and an inspiring sight to see the myriad of people gathered there, sharing their pain, trying to ease each other's pain, praying together, singing songs while holding the candles aloft like beacons of hope in the dark night. When they got home last night, both of them were crying in each other's arms; taking solace in each other's strength. They consoled each other by making love to each other in turns and then holding on to each other as they slept.
Niles had gone grocery shopping to do after brunch and since CC had nothing important to do, she turned on the TV. The local stations were still covering the bombing crisis without running any advertisements. As she flipped through the channels, she settled for a station that was covering one of the funeral services for the dead firemen who were the first ones to respond to the bombings. Uncharacteristically, she found that she couldn't keep tears from rolling down her cheeks when the officiating priest spoke eloquently about Fr. Mychal Judge, the dead Chaplain of New York City's Fire Department. He said that Fr. Judge was number one in the city's official list of fatalities because he was going to continue doing what he did when he was alive: to comfort and to pray for the fireman when they went to battle fires; to administer last rites to dying firemen; to officiate at their burial masses. As private citizens, he was there to marry them and to baptize their children. He was so much a part of their lives and because there were more than 300 firemen buried under that rubble, he wanted to be there for them in their next life, to welcome them with his big Irish smile.
CC was upset by it that she just turned it off. She really had nothing else to do. Niles was still out shopping. She recalled him saying that he had other errands to do; maybe those were what's taking him so long to get back home. She and Maxwell had decided not to even consider resuming the running of their current production until at least some time next week. She decided to check her email. She went to her computer in the office and logged on. She had 34 new messages. Most of it was Spam. It pained her to see some bogus solicitations for the victims of the terrorist bombings. Others were purporting to be collecting money for the families left behind by those brave New York City Firemen buried in the rubble. She checked the email addresses and URLs. They were not on the approved list posted on www.nyc.gov. Disgusted with these scammers, she blocked them and moved on down her inbox, methodically checking emails she wanted to delete.
One email caught her eye; its subject was "Letter To a Terrorist". 'Now what nut would want to write to a terrorist? This person must be a sympathizer!' Still, the subject intrigued her. She didn't know who the sender was. Heaven only knows but this email might have a virus in it. She checked it for deletion and then hesitated. 'What would I lose by reading it. Doesn't this email service scan for viruses?' Having made up her mind, CC pointed with the mouse and double-clicked on it. 'Hmm.' The writer had used the block format of a business letter and it was addressed to Sir/Madam, with today's date. It had the writer's Name, Address, Telephone Number and Email Address, information about what format the article was written in and the writer had signed off respectfully. The writer claimed to have been inspired by the late Lars-Erik Nelson who was a much respected newspaper columnist. The writer also claimed to know that the article was too long for their column but states that if the article will not be used in its entirety then not to use it at all. 'Whoa boy. Aren't you cocky and feisty?' thought CC. 'Kinda reminds me of Niles, actually.' She saw the article on the attachment button titled as "Letter To A Terrorist.doc". 'Looks like a legitimate column submission to me. This person must have been misdirected where to send this article and sent it to me by mistake. Should I or shouldn't I read email not intended for me?' In the end, curiosity won. She double-clicked on the attachment and chose the Download File option and then Open This File From Its Current Location. She reasoned: 'Well…this was intended for publication, right? If it were accepted, then people would be reading it in whatever column this article was intended for. Oh what the heck!'
She started to read the letter.
|
(An ordinary New Yorker’s) Letter To A Terrorist By G. de Vera Aguilar of NYC 09/15/01, Saturday, 2:14am In our pain, friends from all over the world have shown their sympathy and support for us this past Friday. I try to take comfort in that but it still hurts. I never thought that I would live to see such heinous and cowardly acts of terrorism in my adopted country. Late into the night as I am typing this letter, the horrible images I saw on TV, the eyewitnesses and survivor's account seared into my memory sometimes flash unbidden before my eyes and in my thoughts. I have nightmares. I watched a replay of the first plane crashing into the North tower and I saw the live coverage of the second plane as it crashed into the South tower. I saw how they collapsed like a house of cards one after the other… I heard a man's account of having barely survived the collapse of one tower. He emerges from the rubble only to see other people blown to bits right in front of his eyes…and how he saw a man and a woman holding hands and leaping from the burning tower, having made their choice about how to die… A survivor sobbing during a TV interview, recalling how he saw scores of New York City's Bravest and Finest running up the stairs to try to save lives while he was running down to save his. He knew they were inside the building when it collapsed… The image of a child's soot-covered doll and shoe lying in the debris. Forlorn, heartbreaking, eerie… I still see the faces and hear the voices and the heartbreaking anguish, the pain, the sadness, the anger, the helplessness of grief-stricken people looking for loved ones and friends who were working inside and around the World Trade Center: Mothers. Fathers. Sons. Daughters. Wives. Husbands. Sisters. Brothers. Friends. Lovers. Co-workers. Some of them come from different countries but they are Americans now who are united in their search for missing loved ones and friends. They are holding up pictures, giving out contact numbers, talking about the missing person, pleading for information about their loved one's whereabouts, tears streaming down their faces, walking from hospital to hospital when there was no transportation available. Searching, hoping, praying and wondering why… These are but a few of the thousands of horrific stories that are the aftermath of what you have wrought upon us. But, in the midst of the horror you have committed, shining through the smog of the World Trade Center's smoldering ruins is the spirit of democracy and what being an American is all about. What does America stand for and what is being an American all about? America stands for freedom and democracy. We do not hide behind masks to proclaim our beliefs like you do. We value life and do not take women and children as hostages like you do. It is said that some brave Americans thwarted another suicide bombing attempt; that plane crashed into an empty field at Pennsylvania. They were willing to sacrifice their own lives for their fellow Americans. We value diversity and respect religious freedom. While our elected officials urge us to be calm and respect the diversity and religious beliefs of people around us, you have clearly shown that you do not have any respect at all for innocent human lives. We are Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists or any of the other various religious sectors out here. We are of different ethnicities and we celebrate our differences. We are all part of the beautiful mosaic of New York City and we are going to stand together and rebuild our city: Stronger and better than before. What has happened since your terrorist attack on us? Hundreds of people from all walks of life, different nationalities or ethnicities lined up at hospitals and blood banks to donate blood within the first two hours after your attack. Doctors lined up at St. Vincent's Hospital to offer their services for free. Rescue workers worked feverishly thru the rain day and night, to continuously try and dig out for survivors trapped in the rubble. Some of these workers have hurt themselves in their unselfish zeal to help their fellow human beings. Thousands are volunteering to do whatever it takes to help our city recover. People from different states nearby or faraway come to New York City to lend a hand. Donations of food, clothing, money and services are coming from all over the country. Outpourings of concern, prayers, condolences and words of comfort are coming from all over the world. Does the same thing happen in your country? Do people come together to help each other like we are doing right now? What have you gained from your cowardly acts? You have only helped to bring out the best and the worse of America. The best is because we are standing together, helping each other out from the ruins of your suicide bombings. The spirit, pride and heart of America remains unbroken. It will only grow stronger because of you. The worse? You have made Americans suspicious of immigrants of your own ethnicity or religion. Only in America can immigrants come and make a success of themselves by working hard in their chosen fields. Here, immigrants find the freedom and opportunities that they do not have or were not allowed to have in their own countries. They come here to build new lives and you are ruining it for them. And worse of all for you, you have awakened such a fervor of patriotism that most homes and businesses are now proudly flying the American flag. Rescue workers at the ruins have raised the American flag to inspire them and to serve as a symbol for what we stand for. A camel's dung is worth more than you are worth. What have you got going for you? You are ostracized by the International community. Even the Muslim Imams here have come out to proclaim that what you did is against the teachings of Islam. What fuels you to do such despicable and cowardly acts? Did you get a lot of satisfaction out of being a killer of MOTHERS, FATHERS, HUSBANDS, WIVES, SONS, DAUGHTERS, SISTERS, and BROTHERS? Does it really make you feel good turning children into orphans? If you did, then you are no longer a human being. You have no heart and no soul when you live for nothing else but pure hatred. May God have mercy on you. GOD BLESS AMERICA. |
CC had tears in her eyes by the time she was done reading. She had been wrong to think that the writer was a nut and a terrorist sympathizer. It was like judging a book by its cover. She had been guilty of doing that to Niles, wasn't she? There was a time that she thought of him as nothing more than a butler, and she had steadfastly refused to admit that she was attracted to him because he was not her social equal. She had disguised her feelings for him because she was afraid of society's censure and it took the knowledge of losing him forever to shake her foundations and change her way of thinking.
She hadn't noticed that Niles had returned until she felt him kneading her shoulders. She turned around to face him, stood up and laid her head on his right shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. "Hold me, Niles. Just hold me in you arms." They stood that way for a long time. When CC finally let go of him, he sat down on the other chair and asked her what she had been doing while he was out. She told him about watching the funeral service for the New York City Firemen's Chaplain and how it had upset her. She talked about the misdirected letter and her initial reaction to it and how she had changed her opinion about the writer when she read the letter. She admitted to Niles that it reminded her of how she was guilty of judging a book by its cover and compared it to what had happened between them in the past. Then she smiled and told him that the writer of the letter reminded her of him.
"Mhhmm. In what way?"
"Well, he said that they should publish it in its entirety or not at all. Cocky and feisty. Take everything or nothing at all. Niles, do you remember what you told me on that first night we made love?"
"No. Remind me." He was just teasing her but when he saw the sad look in her eyes, he went by her side and recited on bended knee what she wanted to hear: "CC, I am offering you my heart on a silver platter and I'm asking you to look at it not with your eyes but only with your heart. As Exupery said in 'The Little Prince': It is only with the heart that one can truly see; what is essential is invisible to the eye. I am challenging you to look at me with your heart CC and then look me straight in the eye and tell me to my face that you don't love me too. That's all I ask of you. Take me for everything that I am or nothing at all."
"Niles, I'm sorry for having looked at you in the past with my eyes only. I have never
known how it felt like to be in love with someone until that night I almost lost you. That's why I came back that night to ask you to forgive me for mocking you. When you asked me to look inside my heart, that's when I realized that there was a void inside it; an empty and lonely space that only you could fill. You were the missing part of my heart, Niles. That's when I realized then just how much I loved you too."
Niles stood up and pulled the other office chair near to hers. "CC, you don't need to apologize to me anymore. We have been married for more than two years and we have a beautiful daughter. We have outgrown our habit of insulting each other when we realized that we were using that as a cover for our mutual attraction and the sexual tension between us." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. She reached out to brush back the hair from his forehead.
"Read this guy's letter Niles and tell me what you think." She moved the flat panel screen and the mouse closer to him up so he could read it. Then she held on to his right hand as he read the letter.
Silence reigned in the office for a while. Niles looks at her after reading it. "The writer is angry at the terrorists and asks good questions about what has been gained from these attacks. And he makes a very good point about how immigrants who are of the same ethnicity as the terrorists are made into targets for retaliation due to guilt by association. I love the part about New York City being a composition of different nationalities and religions and how we let that strengthen us instead of dividing us. This is a person who writes from the heart and as angry as he is, he still believes in God. That is something you have to admire." He stood up.
"I was thinking along the same lines. Do you think we should write to him? Let him know that his email was sent to the wrong person."
"Absolutely. But let him know too about what we think of his letter. Budding writers need feedback about their work and I'll leave that for you to do, Sweetheart, if you want us to have anything at all to eat for dinner." He kisses the palm of her hands, then bends down to kiss her lips softly. He is tempted for more and he pulls away reluctantly from her. "I have to go."
"Niles, do you think that things in this city will ever go back to the way it was?"
"We are, CC. We will. Stronger and better."
CC started drafting a reply to the writer of the misdirected letter and remembered to include something that had always inspired her before when faced with daunting tasks:
"I believe that what self-centered men have torn down, men other-centered can build up. I still believe that one day, mankind will bow before the altars of God and be crowned triumphant over war and bloodshed and nonviolent redemptive goodwill proclaimed the rule of the land. And the Lion and the Lamb shall lie down together, and every man shall sit under his own vine and fig tree, and none shall be afraid.
I still believe that we shall overcome."
- Martin Luther King
*The characters I used from "The Nanny " television show belong to its creators Fran Drescher and Peter Marc Jacobson. The "Letter To A Terrorist" portion of the story belongs to me.*
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