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PARTISAN REVIEW
The Dolphinarium reminded me that I am sister to a boy the same
age as Alex Nelimov. My youngest brother even has Alex's hair color,
light brown, with blond peeking through. I think of that hair when I try
to explain communal sadness, the depression that engulfs a nation after
a year of this.
And I thought of that hair as I stood in Heathrow Airport on Sep–
tember
II,
calling home, hearing nothing.
TERROR
ATTACKS ALWAYS
transform individual lives, but some attacks
transform a nation. September
II
has changed America in ways still
unclear. Already, the country seems more patient and more thankful for
its considerable gifts.
My parents' neighbors in suburban New York all bought American
flags. We're twenty-five miles from Ground Zero, as the spotty phone
service and shaky television reception wouldn't let us forget for a
minute. At the mall, I saw a girl with a sparkly red, white, and blue
rhinestone pendant on her necklace. A few years ago, she might have
worn her own name in rhinestones. Now it's her country, her future at
her neck, her flag near her heart.
These days, I'm glued to the radio. It's a habit from Israel, a gut reac–
tion to disaster. By now I know the programming will change drastically
after any attack, and I'm curious to see what the new focus will be. This
summer in Jerusalem, for example, radio talk-show hosts seemed to
finally discover the importance of Russian immigration. As most people
knew but never really acknowledged, Russians have contributed enor–
mously to science, academia, hi-tech, and music. After the Dolphinar–
ium, radio listeners were finally pummeled with the benefits of
immigration, instead of the usual grumbling about Russian crime and
prostitution.
Now, on the New York airwaves, radio reporters are noticing the
hardworking immigrant owners of small shops downtown, and the
dishwashers from all countries who worked at Windows on the World
restaurant. We always knew they were there, but now they seem essen–
tial. Fittingly, the suburban stations focus on the police force and the fire
fighters who put their own lives on the line every day for ideals: the rule
of law, safety, family, country.
That autumn in New York felt like last summer in Tel Aviv. Post-ter–
ror appreciation tends to arrive quickly. Overnight, scorn becomes ado–
ration. Drudgery starts to look like hope.
In the end it's all about hope, how you define it, what it is to each of
us, and what it means to the countries people choose to call home. It's
