story1171.xml
Title
story1171.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-08-19
911DA Story: Story
I was woken up the morning of September 11 by one of the members of our household telling me 'something terrible has happened with planes in New York'. I scrabbled for my glasses, and turned the TV on to CNN -- just in time to watch the first tower fall.
It was Pagan Pride month -- I'm the Vice President of the Pagan Pride Project (http://www.paganpride.org), and we celebrate in September. One of those celebrations was supposed to be in Battery Park. I knew, as I watched that tower fall, that it would be a long time before anyone celebrated again.
We spent the next few hours trying to reach my housemate's family in Brooklyn -- they were fine -- and watching. Just...watching. Staring at the TV as if someone, somewhere, could somehow give us some sort of understanding, some sort of handle on this. This wasn't about Islam, or enemies, or anything -- except the darkest shadows of the human soul, the cesspool of fear and hate that can only be answered with love, light, and tolerance. I got choked up, a lot; I am now, as I write this. And somewhere in the ashes of the Towers rests the soul of a former co-worker of my wife's, and we knew, that morning, that she probably was gone.
The next twenty days was busy for us. Pagan Pride New York was moved to Washington Park. Pagan Pride Atlanta had to be canceled. Pagan Pride Los Angeles and Las Vegas were rescheduled.
But I never heard a word of complaint, not one. For a while, there, we all -- Christian, Jewish, Pagan, Moslem, Ba'hai, everyone -- were one in our grief, and the extra work was nothing. Battery Park was a temporary morgue; how could we argue in the face of that? How could we do anything but thank our gods for the late trains, the sudden inconveniences, the mistakes that meant people didn't die?
I pray that plans for camps and people held without trial and 'enemies of the state' be seen for the darkness they are. Would that we never lose that sense of light.
And Pagan Pride New York 2002 is in Battery Park. Where it belongs.
Dagonet Dewr
Activist and Priest
It was Pagan Pride month -- I'm the Vice President of the Pagan Pride Project (http://www.paganpride.org), and we celebrate in September. One of those celebrations was supposed to be in Battery Park. I knew, as I watched that tower fall, that it would be a long time before anyone celebrated again.
We spent the next few hours trying to reach my housemate's family in Brooklyn -- they were fine -- and watching. Just...watching. Staring at the TV as if someone, somewhere, could somehow give us some sort of understanding, some sort of handle on this. This wasn't about Islam, or enemies, or anything -- except the darkest shadows of the human soul, the cesspool of fear and hate that can only be answered with love, light, and tolerance. I got choked up, a lot; I am now, as I write this. And somewhere in the ashes of the Towers rests the soul of a former co-worker of my wife's, and we knew, that morning, that she probably was gone.
The next twenty days was busy for us. Pagan Pride New York was moved to Washington Park. Pagan Pride Atlanta had to be canceled. Pagan Pride Los Angeles and Las Vegas were rescheduled.
But I never heard a word of complaint, not one. For a while, there, we all -- Christian, Jewish, Pagan, Moslem, Ba'hai, everyone -- were one in our grief, and the extra work was nothing. Battery Park was a temporary morgue; how could we argue in the face of that? How could we do anything but thank our gods for the late trains, the sudden inconveniences, the mistakes that meant people didn't die?
I pray that plans for camps and people held without trial and 'enemies of the state' be seen for the darkness they are. Would that we never lose that sense of light.
And Pagan Pride New York 2002 is in Battery Park. Where it belongs.
Dagonet Dewr
Activist and Priest
Collection
Citation
“story1171.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed January 9, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/13779.