LIFE DURING WARTIME pt. 4

What is there to believe in, in these days when war looms large and casts the shadow of all shadows upon the landscape?

If not God or a higher power, then what?

People are rallying around the flag, around the symbols of Americana. The candles that were lit on the following Friday almost seemed like a religious ritual. I imagine that next year, and for years after that, people will commemorate the anniversary of the attacks in this fashion, but more like a holiday, like July 4th or Veterans Day.

Patriotism is natural at a time like this. Yet, do we really believe in our country? I think we believe that we could get through this. I believe that we believe in our country. I sure do. I believe that we will persevere. But other than God and country, what can we believe in?

Magic, maybe?

A week after the attacks, I was in my office, checking the quality of CDs our company was sending out to radio affiliates. The past week had been such a turnaround for me. I was glad, for the first time since I started working at Showcase Media, to be at work. People were tolerable, in that they no longer lorded their pursuit of wealth over me.

People were quiet, and since I wasn't intent on rocking any boats they looked at me with a strange resolve. I think they wondered how I could be so calm when the world as we know it was ending.

I played one CD, an oldies-but-goodies countdown show that goes out weekly. The show focused on the hits of the mid-Sixties.

Track number five: "Do You Believe In Magic" by the Lovin' Spoonful.

I cranked it loud, wanting all my hallway neighbors to hear it. John Sebastian's voice sounded secure and hopeful.

As a pop song, it's a near-perfect two minute extravaganza. Only a cynic could dislike the emotions that the song can stir. Even in my dark days, when punk and thrash metal were my genres of choice, a song like "Do You Believe in Magic" was a welcome ray of light into the abyss of my life... although I was too cool to admit it at the time.

Suzie, the girl whose office was two doors down, passed by and stopped. She peeked her head in. "I love this song!"

The pretty blonde girl in her mid-twenties then began to dance around my office, to the cadences of the music. I was already playing fake drums on my desk, and started to swirl and twirl in my chair. I tried to do the Fish, or whatever that weird Sixties' dance was called, the one where you hold your nose and pretend to submerge under water.

Suzie bounced and clapped and kicked. I kept twirling, singing along.

The song ended, and Suzie laughed and said, "Thanks for cheering me up."

And she left.

But the magic didn't leave me, and that's why I am writing a book about life during wartime.

I wrote a book about life during times of peace, when our priorities hadn't shifted so abruptly and we as a nation became obsessed with ourselves. It was about narcissism and selfishness. But that one is still in the works. This one is more relevant at this time.

Wartime is surreal. I have never lived during a wartime, except for the Persian Gulf war, and that didn't have a tenth of the effect this whole thing is having on the world. Yet I feel like my whole life has been a war zone. I feel like the bad neighborhoods of my youth and the traumas of my family have equipped me for the absurdity and violence to come. As a fly on the wall, an observer, I already know that people are losing their minds over this. Beliefs are being put to the test, and people are not who they were prior to the WTC attacks. But I feel relatively the same.

Is that bad, to not feel changed or altered by such events?

The fact is, I have been changed. I now know what my purpose is: to listen, to give solace, to comfort, to cause laughter and to point out what's wrong with everything. I was the same way before all of this, but now it's amplified.

People are going to be doing some dumb stuff as the war rages on. They are going to forget who they are if they're not careful.

People are also going to live a little more. Take more risks, live out more dreams... Why not? The end could come tomorrow, and we all know it.

I understand why the hippies were so promiscuous. With war in the background, and young people facing the prospect of going over to Southeast Asia to die on foreign soil, it is no surprise that they were screwing everything in sight.

It's already starting to happen, in small ways.

TOMORROW: THE CONCLUSION