Tuesday, June 24, 2014

One More Thing...

There are any number of things that occur in my day-to-day for which I have no rational explanation.  In a perfect world - or a reasonable facsimile thereof I suppose - all that I do day in and day out would be intimately connected to the furtherance of some wonderfully articulate life plan.  In the real world that I inhabit the divide between what is planned and what occurs is tangible.  And every so often, it feels utterly insurmountable.

Sunday evening I spent a bit of quality time in the backyard with my faithful canine companion Rosalita.  Rosie's fidelity is directly linked to the extent to which she appreciates the aromas emanating from the grill.  If her nose picks up a smell or two that it - and by extension she - finds agreeable then she attaches herself to me like a fur coat.  Otherwise, she finds a shady spot in which to lie down and await the completion of the cooking. 

Irrespective of her level of interest in what it is I am making, there is one thing that always generates a fervent response from her:  the sound of a jet airliner flying overhead.  Prop planes have little impact upon her but jet engines trigger a response in her that is palpable.  Upon first noticing the sound she cranes her head upward attempting to pick the plane out against the backdrop of the sky and if she is able to do so she runs across the yard mirroring its path until she reaches the edge of the property.

I cannot determine whether her doing what she does is an example of her mirroring my behavior or whether what I do when I hear a jet pass overhead is an example of me mirroring her behavior.  As soon as my ears detect the sound of a jet engine, my neck cranes upward towards the sky in an effort to locate the source of the sound.  My success rate is only marginally better than Rosie's.  It is a behavior in which I believe I never engaged - not even on one occasion - in the years prior to September 11, 2001.  And it is a behavior in which I have not been able to stop engaging in the almost thirteen years since that dreadful day.

Its origin - I presume - comes from that morning although it does not serve to replicate (for me) the events of that day.  I was inside the Bergen County Justice Center during all of the events of that morning, from the first Tower being struck to the second Tower falling.  I did not hear a jet do anything at all that morning.  Not one sound.  I know people who experienced real, personal loss on September 11, 2001, whether it was a family member, a close friend or a colleague whose life was taken from them that day.  I suffered no such real, personal loss.  I am therefore (pardon the pun) at a loss to explain not only the origin of this reflex but, candidly, its staying power.  

I simply do not understand it.

One more thing to add to that particular list I reckon.  One more thing...



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