Complacent
Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001
My to-do list for the day was especially full.
Normally, I would have switched on the tv first thing in the morning to the food network since I was in a cooking mode. But, the temperature outside was cool, the air clean & crisp, the sky blue with beautiful, harmless white clouds, the sounds of the birds and the insects beckoned me to turn off the air conditioning. I threw open all the windows & doors and enjoyed being surrounded with my safe, serene, secure world in Madisonville, Kentucky.
Due to my recent lay-off, I checked my recipes and pantry carefully before making my grocery list. My husband and I are not big meat eaters, so a pork roast is not usually in our grocery budget. But this was a special occasion. I didn't want to buy anything unnecessary, but I wanted to make sure I had everything I would need without having to "make-do" without any ingredient. I checked the dates on the milk, butter, eggs, cheese. I gathered all my spices and herbs, smelling and pinching for freshness.
Now, where did I put those bay leaves?
Boys like ketchup, not chutney.
Maybe I should roast the garlic for the potatoes first.
Roasted garlic is easier to digest than raw.
All these thoughts... and those even more mundane filled my mind from 8:00 to 9:00 am. And... while I was contemplating life from a cookbook... the horror and the fear that filled the minds of all those involved in those plane crashes. How could I have been so ... unaware. So ambivilent. So complacent.
I gathered my collection of plastic bags to take back to the grocery store recycling bin. I had the checkbook, my coupons, my car keys. I petted Pup, checked off the wearabouts of our 11 cats, and went on my way to the grocery store.
I turned off the car radio. I wanted the car windows open so I could enjoy the first fall air and scents. I thought about nothing and everything.
The Kroger store had a funny feeling as soon as I went through the automatic doors. None of the employees were laughing or talking about their breaks or their personal lives. They were doing their task jobs on automatic pilot, with blank looks to their faces. I heard the sounds of radios coming from every aisle.
"What's going on," I heard myself ask to the first Kroger person I came up to in the produce aisle. She looked at me as if I was an alien. "Shhh... listen to the radio" she said. I stood there. With my list in hand, I heard bits and pieces of a story that made no sense. Were they listening to a new modern version of Orson Wells, War Of The Worlds?
I walked through the aisles picking the items on my grocery list. Still I was not really believing what I was hearing. I would finish my shopping quickly; go home, turn on the tv, and the bad news would not be there. This was someone's idea of really bad joke.
When I got home, I started cooking. I watched the tv. I was transfixed. The more tragic the news, the more I chopped and stirred. If I cooked hard enough, good enough, fast enough... I could fix this bad news. Food, the fix for all bad news. But the reality... I can't cook enough or good enough or fast enough to fix this.
They said dinner was delicious. I picked up the empty dishes on Thursday. Thanks for doing that for us they all said. They are comforted by the food, but most of all from knowing that they have lots of friends ready to cook for them and help them as a family, recover from the effects of cancer. But, what dinner, what food, how many friends, how much family, can comfort those people who have lost husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, boyfriends, girlfriends, co-workers, bosses, fellow workers... to this attack? Someone, just tell me, what can I cook to fix this?
Last updated: 09/14/01