Defining ourselves in tragedy - Perfidy to Jersey?

I feel firmly that you can't "overdo" coverage on a a subject like the attacks of Sept. 11. But at the same time, I've been mulling over how I could fit the recent horrors into the context of a column about New Jersey. I concluded that each American's vantage point of approaching a legitimate discussion of the attacks is valid; each of us should be allowed to analyze the events from a political, economic and military perspective or from any other point of view that elucidates what this all means.

In the aftermath of the tragedies in New York and Washington, D.C. so many Americans, affected directly or not by the horror, are reeling emotionally from what seems to be part of Osama bin Laden's pathetic plan to destroy the United States' power in world affairs. This struggle to cope with what appeared like a film special effect still leaves us all confused - we don't know where our thoughts are taking us even though we've readily pondered the incidents since we first heard of them.

For me, bin Laden and his followers in Afghanistan seem so far away - as if we were assaulted by some suicidal and oppressive group on another planet in which evil is commonplace and hatred is encouraged. Meanwhile, here in America, especially in locations along the East Coast near the two assailed cities like New Jersey and Baltimore, citizens are having trouble finding their own peace and grappling with sensations amalgamated with fear, anger, shock and dismalness.

In my hometown in Bergen County and around the North Jersey area, city commuters like my dad had been forced to "move on" virtually without delay. The City That Never Sleeps experienced a nightmare for a few days. When it woke up, the Unofficial Capital of the World continued life as usual by working and avoiding the around-the-clock press feeding frenzy. But getting the wrenching images of crashing planes and stories of heroic firefighters and close families out of our heads shouldn't have been an objective then, nor should it be now. It should be a natural progression, once we understand what the hell is happening to us, let alone what is going to happen to us.

"I just need to go back to work," my dad the commuter told me on Sept. 12, reverberating Americans voices all over.

In Baltimore City and around Maryland, people reacted similarly to Jerseyans and New Yorkers. How could they not have? Those who commute to D.C. for government work, like my aunt are, were and remain in a different atmosphere: domestic politics is secondary and most of the Bush administration's previous agenda is now postponed indefinitely.

"This is not a matter of being in specific areas of the country," my aunt said to me. "People who live far from New York and Washington can and might be affected just as much as people from New Jersey or Baltimore. Nevertheless, living closer to the events can make them seem more palpable."

As I write this, any decision to go to war has not been officially declared, even though President Bush, who labeled the situation "the first war of the 21st Century," has been seen in a new light, benefiting from near unanimous public support. "Official declarations" yet to be made even though President Bush seems to be pressing for retaliation, reflects this resurgent, ubiquitous, but strongly antagonistic patriotism that most Americans - according to a somewhat recent New York Times/CBS poll - favor military action against the groups that harbored the terrorists' acts, even if it means the loss of civilian lives and drawn-out conflicts. Despite the influx of articles, however, I think it's safe to say that nobody has anything really figured out.

The unanswerable remains clear: if and when we do get more concrete answers about how our nation will react to the attacks, will our animosity ebb or sustain itself? Will it matter where we are from? Whether you're an Alaskan or a Baltimorean, you should be pretty fucking pissed off that radicals successfully belittled America so well.

Indeed, pride is an enduring feeling here. I might be stretching this comparison, but I'm proud to live in New Jersey and just as proud - if not more proud, especially now - to be an American. I'm also proud to be a student in a school that held several events during that dreadful week - forums, vigils, blood drives - to counteract the pride of living and dead terrorists. Now, however, is a time to forget about our insignificant loyalties, to hold our close ones closer, to try to invest some or all of our trust into our government and to try to conquer seemingly unconquerable terrorism.

Tragedy has a way of making deeper prides like those of freedom and love shine through the sinister smoke we all see over and over on T.V. This smoke and the overall demise of the World Trade Center became everything that America symbolized: capitalism and hubris coupled with love for companionship and liberty. The hubris rose to the sky but the friendships, families and lasting love and freedom remained. Everyone set aside what they previously questioned when they thought about America's place in the world and what they took for granted. Our position in the world changed and the foundations of what we were collapsed and crumbled.

If our own stability and centricity in Downtown Manhattan turned to dust, then everything else that defined us became uncertain. Who can we be, how can we define ourselves individually and how can we be proud of ourselves - as Jerseyans, Hopkins students, music-lovers, sport fanatics, whatever - if parts of us died so quickly?

It seems like when integral pride becomes duty and divided factions unite, we search to define ourselves clearly so we can know where we really stand. I fear that we may not know.