So I’m getting my hair coiffed in the new Roy Michael Salon on Park Avenue by the owner, himself. As I’m trying to enjoy this transformation of my formerly long locks, I am interrupted from my tranquil salon experience by these two nasally New Yawk accents.
Being the astute listener that I am, I could not help but overhear their conversation on an article that appeared in Vanity Fair magazine about slain reporter Daniel Pearl, who was presumably killed by terrorists. They then launched into this whole other conversation about Sept. 11 and all of the women who were widowed and children who were orphaned. Well, if I was overly superficial, I would have been wondering why they were talking about such a dreary and depressing topic in a salon where for a fee, stylists can make you beautiful. Why talk about something so horrifically ugly and ruin the salon experience?
Fortunately, I do not let the salon smells of peroxide and chemicals cloud my scruples. Being a Catholic, laden with the ever-present feeling of guilt, I began to feel extremely uncomfortable about my indulgent ‘do. Why was I paying a considerable amount of money for a haircut when it could be donated to a relief fund? I remember thinking that while we have to move on, is there a way that we can remember? Why am I feeling a twinge of guilt about pampering myself when I should be celebrating the fact that I am sitting in that chair?
But then I thought, I have every right to do as I please. Instead of mourning the lives’ of others, I am enjoying my own life. I am enjoying the freedom of my time to do as I please, just as the signers of the Declaration of Independence intended. Whether or not getting a high-end haircut was their idea of freedom remains a gray area.
Here we are, citizens in the most envied nation in the world, finally embracing a sense of Patriotism that would have made our Founding Fathers proud. One year later, I am still seeing Old Glory waving in the breeze. Finally, instead of seeing citizens of this country proudly display the heritage from which they came, I am seeing a resurgence of pride through fashion in the culture that they have chosen and embraced.
The American Flag is the hottest commodity since sliced bread, and it is everywhere, sported on t-shirts and car dashboards and mirrors. I am seeing the American flag being displayed in a spot of prominence. People are now joining together and are genuinely proud to be Americans, something they should have been before Sept. 11, 2001.
Undoubtedly, it is still difficult to really grasp the tragic events that shook the morning hours of Sept. 11. I guess it never seemed real to me; it was as if Steven Spielberg directed life for a moment in time. During the summer, I would peruse the pages of my daily newspaper and I would still be reading obituaries about those lost on Sept. 11. I see pictures of Osama Bin Laden in the windows of stores with the words “Wanted” printed underneath them. I see the flags. I see the t-shirts. I see the bumper stickers. I hear the songs. I watch the specials.
Maybe in a sense, I am trying to place myself in the post-9/11 feeling of displacement. Where do I stand in this world? As I heard the women speaking about what others had lost, as I was feeling guilty, I began reflecting on what was gained as a nation.
Those women made me realize that I am not the sole recipient of a guilty conscience or a heavy heart. I should be embracing this life that I was given, living life instead of lamenting those lost. One year later, we should be celebrating the heroes, their memories, the life that we were given, and the fact that each and every day, we can wake up in our beds and experience the freedom that we are guaranteed.
We should be celebrating the fact that we have become increasingly resilient as a nation during the past year. We have truly become a living version of “The Pledge of Allegiance,” living indivisible as one nation, never taking our freedom for granted for one more day.
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