Category Archives: Friends, Family, Life

On yesterday’s local craziness

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Philly.com: Center City shaken:

A fire in an underground electric cable yesterday spewed smoke, ignited gases that blew manhole covers into the air, and forced the evacuation of about 5,000 workers from two office towers near City Hall.

The ripple effect of the lunchtime drama snarled traffic in Center City and threatened to disrupt the evening rush hour.

But the fire was put out by 3, and power was quickly restored to most of the buildings in the area bounded by 15th and 16th Streets and Market and Chestnut Streets.

Livia was in the area and posted some shots on Flickr.

Whadda day.

Explosions near 15th and Market Philadelphia cause evacuations in a number of office buildings

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Occupants of the office building I work in were evacuated today as underground explosions shook our building and the surrounding neighborhood.

Around 1pm today, a few co-workers and I were giving a send-off, at Nodding Head, to a co-worker who is moving, when a powerful rumble vibrated the building for a split second. It sounded low and deep. At that time, we thought it was an accident involving heavy construction equipment, but as we approached 15th and Chestnut St., it became clear something was very, very wrong.

People were standing looking up. Others were talking of a car explosion nearby. We saw co-workers walking away from our office building. Thoughts of 9/11, of terrorism weighed on my heart. And judging from conversations I could over hear, I wasn’t alone.

We traveled up Chestnut to 16th, thinking we could get close to our building from the back. But when we arrived, we found a group of fellow co-workers across the street, outside One Liberty Place. They explained they heard and felt an explosion, and saw smoke from the building windows.

I made a quick call to my wife, to let her know what was going on, and that I was okay. Shortly after there was a bright flash of flame and loud thump as an explosion happened up Ranstead, towards 15th, underneath East Tower – right in front of us. I mentioned to my friends that it was time to leave, and that walking straight to the Parkway was our best bet. A short time later a few other co-workers joined us near JFK Blvd., mentioned that the building was shut down for the night, that we could go home.

I had an urge to stick around, but anything that I could have used to record events was still stuck in the building. So I took the first train out of there and headed home.

CBS3 has video and more information. Philly.com‘s story has a picture of the street we were looking down when we saw what we thought was the second explosion. More pictures and info at KYW1060.

Crossposted from Philly Future.

The World Mourns, what we leave behind

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Your memory plays tricks on you. It can be so selective. What one remembers, another experiencing the same event, might recall entirely different. For me, well it seems I’ve already forgotten so much of my past.

But the morning of 9/11, and the following two weeks remain so crystal clear. For me, for my wife, for anyone who I’ve talked to. The horror, the anger, the realization that life can change in an instant, no matter how many layers of denial we attempt to hide behind.

How many of us swore to change our lives in those following weeks? Resolve to be better citizens? Better family members? Better friends? I did. I know you did.

For many, that day prompted reaching out. Connecting. Making contact. It would emerge as the moment that gave birth to blogging. In the seemingly spontaneous outpouring of grief, anger, support and viewpoint, thousands poured their hearts and souls into this social space of spaces.

That 15th I went to confession. Not knowing that later that day my nephew would pass from S.I.D.S.. I had asked my priest, what should I do? How should I help? I was ready to get in a car and drive to New York City. He told me to stop and think. Be a good husband. Be a good brother. Be a good uncle. Be present and be there for them. The absolute tear in our hearts that would happen that afternoon made clear to me that I needed to withdraw from the web. Shutter Philly Future. Hunter was just three months old when he left us. I didn’t get a chance to know him. And that was my fault.

Besides, the web was *already* an integral part of my life. I had put so much of myself into my work, into this, I felt I had to take five steps back to find my footing.

In some ways, the change was for naught. Some moved away. Others disappeared into online gaming. A mailing list of close friends imploaded under personal attacks brought about by political differences that couldn’t be bridged. And here I am, back on the web, participating even more then I did prior to 9/11. I guess it’s part of who I am. And I guess that’s life, it goes on. But I’m still left every day with the question – is this making a difference?

What will Emma, my daughter, think of it all one day?

I’m mirroring The World Mourns here at paradox1x, since its 30 or so pages remind me so vividly of the spirit that rose in the horror of 9/11. A spirit that united the world, in interconnectedness, that lasted until the lead up to the Iraq war.

To me, if anything, it is what needs to be reminded of that day, and of the following days. In the face of so much evil, humanity has the potential to find common ground, to rise above differences, in goals, in minds, in deeds, and in hearts.

Our leadership has failed to bring to justice those that attacked us on 9/11. Instead of encouraging discourse and conversation, optimism and vision, it has encouraged fear and silence.
And we’re playing our parts. All too well. Forgotten is that opportunity. That hope.

Our children are watching our example. What are we are teaching? What are we are leaving behind?

Nancy Gibbs: “we have not merely returned to the messy family arguments of Sept. 10”

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TIME.com: What We’ve Learned — Sep. 11, 2006:

An American businessman, traveling in India when the planes struck the towers, made his way back to the U.S. the following week as quickly as he could. That meant hopscotching across the Middle East, stopping in Athens overnight to change planes. He spent the evening having supper in a local taverna. No one else in the restaurant spoke English, but when the owner realized he had an American in the house just two nights after 9/11, he asked his guest to stand up, face the other diners and listen to a toast.

And indeed, the entire room stood up, raised their glasses and said, as one, “Shoulder to shoulder, until justice is done.”

Five years later, after an invasion of Afghanistan and an occupation of Iraq, and amid talk of war with Iran, it is fair to ask:

Would they say it again tonight?

Would we say it to one another?

This has become the loss with no grave, no chance for mourning, because we still live it every day–the loss of that transcendent unity, global goodwill, common purpose born of righteous anger that wrapped us like a bandage those first months after the attacks: a President with a 90% approval rating, a Congress working as one, expressions of sympathy and offers of help from every corner of the planet. WE ARE ALL AMERICANS, said Le Monde.

That unity was never going to last.

…In the weeks after 9/11, out of the pain and the fear there arose also grace and gratitude, eruptions of intense kindness that occurred everywhere, a sharp resolve to just be better, bigger, to shed the nonsense, rise to the occasion. And yet five years later, more than two-thirds of Americans say they are unhappy with how things are going–exactly the opposite of the weeks after the attacks, when people were crushed, but hopeful. We saw back then what we were capable of at our best, and now find ourselves just moving on, willing to listen to our leaders but not necessarily believe them, supporting the troops but disputing their mission, waiting, more resigned than resolved, for the next twist in the plot.

When so many die each day, why pause to comment on Steve Irwin?

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Some folks I know are scratching their heads at the coverage Steve Irwin’s death has wrought this week. I’m not. It’s because so rarely do we meet someone, and yes, we’ve met Steve Irwin, who in public life displays so much passion, heart, and faith, and who radiated so much love.

He was real. In a public figure, that’s a rarity.

Like Liz Spikol, I found John McManamy’s tribute, at BipolarConnect.com a must read.

Now if we could look to those that die everyday in our streets, who we haven’t met just yet, maybe the world could be a better place.

Once around the blog way

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My brother Dante has a blog (hi Dante!).

Howard is posting poetry.

And read the Inquirer’s Dan Rubin, who wrote about the passing of his beloved companion, Twinkle. I wish I had the capacity to write so well about one loved so much. It’s a moving tribute that will make you cry.

Being there, at the vet’s, when Teddy passed, changed Richelle, her mom and me in some indescribable, significant way. If we had the opportunity to change the decision to be there, I don’t think the three of us would decide differently, no matter how painful. Teddy is still walking around this house and Richelle’s parents. He’ll always be with us.

I have an idea for a great Survivor – lets divide teams by religion. Muslims, versus Jews, versus Christians, versus Atheists – sounds great don’t it?

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Sounds ludicrous right? Not really. Because that’s where Survivor is going to need to go to top the concept behind this year’s series – dividing the tribes up by race. Yes you read that right. By blacks, whites, Asians, and Hispanics.

I’m a free speech absolutist. I don’t believe in the suppression of it whatsoever. And I’m as un-politically correct as they come. Sam Kinison and George Carlin are my favorite comedians. South Park is one of my favorite shows. So never would I advocate banning or fining this.

The FCC is no friend to free speech.

So why be concerned or upset? I’ve talked to people in my line of work who don’t feel the way I do. That this will be great TV. That generating any kind of discussion is good. And this last sentiment is one I always agree with.

But they don’t come from where *I* come from. They don’t know by what rationale my old neighbors will decide who to root for. And when “our” race’s members lose – it will be talk of conspiracy and bias.

And hey, Survivor’s Jeff Probst pretty much admits this in a recent interview. Watch it.

Survivor isn’t a comedy. It’s a competition in the hearts of its fans, and in the minds of some social scientists and economists. It’s producers call the show a social experiment. Check out the ongoing conversation about Game Theory and how it applies to Survivor. So is it really surprising that this season is already being thought of as “Survivor: Race War”? No. Not at all. It’s to be expected.

A dark part of me admires the marketing genius behind it. The degree to which the show’s producers will go to get ratings. Sure the season will sprinkle heart warming lessons in a few episodes. And they will move to integrate the tribes within two or three shows and those that integrate the best, supposedly, will do the best. But that does nothing to change this show’s exploitive starting point – segregated tribes – and it will be that, which sets the tone for the audience.

And bring in the viewers.

Are they holding a mirror to the reality of American society? Maybe.

But I can’t help but feel this story joins a growing number of race and racism related stories surfacing in the news. Stories that, when coupled with rising crime and poverty figures, set us back to the early nineties – at least.

This, at a time, when real bridges must be built, and re-built, between members of different races, different religions, different classes, and different sexes, and different political parties.

Ask yourself, does this Survivor season help or hurt fight the realities that Katrina exposed? The story of Katrina is one of race, class, and indifferent government and society.

Does it help? Or does it exploit?

There is a difference. Think about it.

From my point of view, there seem to be too many damn people are busy dividing us, to sell us something.

Too damn many.