Not simply going through the motions of remembrance

What I was most concerned about with the approach of Sept. 11 this year was the normalization and perhaps even commercialization that I suspected was bound to occur on the anniversary. Indeed, with a year of continuous remembrance and blame all traced to that day, the infamy has already been normalized into American culture, and I firmly belief that commercialism is (unfortunately) one of the staples of this culture. Considering the fact that I found things like thewtcmemorial.com, worldtradecentermemorial.com, newyorkworldtradecentermemorial.com with a fast search on Google, you can't blame me for being somewhat cynical as the day approached.

Also adding to my suspicions was the controlled and somewhat predictable ways most Americans have reacted to the tragedy. By this I do not mean to detract from the sincerity of anyone who has mourned, in whatever way, for the victims of the attack. I only believe that few people can feel sad all the time, though society has been concentrating sharply on this tragedy in one form or another for a year. It's only human for one's emotions to become worn and tired. We see pictures on television or in the newspapers everyday of people crying, but can we cry every day? And should we? I understand that some may want to, but I feel there is something of an implied criticism of those who don't feel sad every day. People I've spoken to often seem uncomfortable admitting that they don't always feel terribly sad, as though they're expected to be so.

I've also had some worries about the memorial services because in many ways they seem so unnatural. Just like birthdays and anniversaries, this anniversary was just an arbitrary notch in time. I don't think those living with a loss felt any more the pangs of abscence of their loved ones than they had the day before or would the day after, except maybe because of external reminders and expectations.

Yet, all that said, I want to thank the University and community for last Wednesday's evening memorial service. All along, I've felt that what's most appropriate is respectful remembrance more than shows of emotion. It's impossible to schedule sincere emotions; there's no way to know how anyone will feel at a given time. The service wasn't overly emotional, but it preserved the memory of the tragedy, making it no more sensational than it really was. It looked at it in an honest historical and global framework, but with an understanding of how important it has come to be both abstractly and as a cultural force to most Americans.

To me, what showed that the ceremony was really heartfelt and that people were not just playing a part was the amount of awkwardness and indecision that marked the reactions of many around me in little things. No one knew what to talk about before the ceremony began, when to clap and when not, and what to do with the small plastic American flags they found in their hands. They were certain that they wanted to be there, they were certain that they cared about commemorating Sept. 11, but they didn't know quite how to do so. As Professor Emerson pointed out, Americans, "don't know how to do this," and rightly so, for there were no motions for us to slip mindlessly into. Instead, we thought about our responses, what they meant and thus what we should do to express our thoughts and feelings rather than conform to a prearranged regimen of motions.

There were signs all throughout the ceremony that people were thinking rather than just doing and following like sheep. For example, there wasn't clapping after every speech the way there usually is, even at memorial services. This was a rather serious funeral of sorts, a way to start to lay to rest our grief and confusion, and after all, no one would clap at a funeral. There was no clapping after the music. It was there to express grief, not to entertain us, and was accepted as a sincere tribute to the memory of the victims rather than as a performance. The most marked awkwardness in the ceremony, showing that the status quo for such large assemblies did not apply here and that we were all reacting spontaneously, came in what might have been a humorous moment under other circumstances. When the time came to sing Amazing Grace, someone noted that we could look to the words in the booklet provided. Of course by then the sun had set completely. A few started to want to laugh, then remembered where they were and why. We were thinking and listening, not just attending.

This was no ordinary ceremony. We didn't look for humor to relieve stress or break the discomfort. Instead, we dealt with reality. We looked at our situation honestly, gave respectful remembrance to the dead for a time, and then moved on with life. After all, we don't have a choice; we have to. Aileen Ann Nielsen is from Upper Black Eddy, Penn. She can be reached at anielsen@princeton.edu.