Reflections

Eleven years ago we had just recently moved to Tokyo, Japan.  We were getting acclimated and making friends, but still waiting for things like our boat shipment and the hookup of the "deluxe" cable package on our television so that we might be able to find a show or two in English on Fox Japan or the Star Channels.  School had started for our kids at the American School in Japan (ASIJ), but they had the day off on Monday for a typhoon warning - fortunately the storm didn't hit us too badly.  Around 10:30 that evening as Steve did his nightly scroll through all of the TV channels hoping that something to watch would magically appear, he came upon what we thought was a tape of the World Trade Center bombing in 1993.  Why else would there be smoke coming from the WTC?  But then he continued on to another station, and then another...but the video was the always the same.  At that point we realized that this was not a tape - it was live coverage.  We found a station with the reporter's voice barely discernible in the background under the Japanese translation being broadcast.  As we were still trying to decipher what was happening, we watched in rapt horror as a plane hit the second tower...and the Pentagon...and the farmer's field in Pennsylvania.  We watched the first tower crumble to the ground...and then the second.  I found it difficult to go to bed...were there more planes yet to come...what else could possibly happen next?  

The next morning we received a phone call that school was cancelled yet again.  My new friend, Lynn, called me wondering why we had off again.  She had no idea what had happened - they had not been watching Japanese television the night before.  She and I ended up going over to the Tokyo American Club (TAC) later that day to rent some videos for our kids to watch.  Going to the video library we passed women sobbing as they watched the continuing coverage on the club's televisions - here in English.  The vast majority of our contemporaries in Tokyo were from the East Coast, primarily New York City.  Some lost friends and neighbors, but all were deeply impacted by the tragedy...particularly trying in a place where they were so disconnected from their friends and loved ones. It felt a little awkward...and maybe even rude and insensitive that we were looking to rent movies when such a terrible thing had just happened to our country.  The attacks did not impact either of us on such a personal level - me being from Wisconsin and her from California.  Despite the tragedy, our children still needed something to do on yet another day off of school. 

Things changed immediately.  The buses that proudly proclaimed "The American School in Japan" in black and gold on their sides were quickly painted over to plain, white, "prison buses" with tinted windows so you couldn't see the little caucasian faces inside. A fence was built around the school, and all visitors were required to sign in and out and have proper identification.  Our bus stop moved from in front of the neighboring Egyptian Embassy to a little bit farther down the street.  TAC added a screening process for both incoming cars and people - you couldn't even bring in a water bottle.  Although Americans flew flags proudly throughout the USA, we were urged to try not to call attention to ourselves...try to hide our "American-ness."  Rumors circulated one day about a possible "gas attack" on the subway system on the route used by many foreigners.  Eventually things went back to normal...or at least the new normal.  ASIJ even added some designs to the sides of the buses - ours being the best as it was "sakura" - cherry blossoms - but never re-added the school name.

Fast forward three years and we are in Summit, New Jersey.  A small city impacted greatly by the events of 9/11.  A city where each and every resident remembers exactly where they were, what they were doing, and possibly how they got home after the attacks unfolded.  A city whose sadness was marked by the cars in the train station parking lot that were never driven home.  

Another eight years and here we are in Zurich, a new foreign land.  Our children are scattered throughout the world - one in NYC, one in Wisconsin, and one in India.  How would we deal with such a tragedy now?  Let's hope and pray we don't have to find out.