Zoom in, zoom out
September 26, 2001 | 12:00am
No, God, a part of me repeated constantly as I watched the horror of the World Trade Center. It was a hysterical prayer. I meant: Dear God, please, don’t let this be true. Simultaneously I was uncomfortably aware of another voice saying, "These special effects are better than the movie Independence Day." This fragmentation, this feeling of being torn apart and dragged down parallel channels, isn’t new. When did I feel this before?
During the Gulf War, of course, while watching scud missiles light up remote desert skies, I told myself, over and over: It’s not a movie, those explosions probably kill people as I sit and watch. I thought then that nothing could be more emotionally numbing than a televised war.
Now, here we go again.
As the World Trade Center crumbled I sent a text message to my children telling them to watch the beginning of the Third World War. My children believe I overreact and generally take me with a jar of salt. Nevertheless I had to warn them so that they might prepare themselves. They have small children. An event of this magnitude cannot be without repercussions that will affect everyone. We are all in for some pain, some damage. To keep abreast of developments we must become slaves to our TV sets. In that sense the war will be at home with us, in our bedrooms as we sleep.
I work at my office computer, my back to the TV set. I’m in advertising. A TV set is standard office equipment for us. The computer struggles to capture and solve the problems of our business. I am focused, zoomed in to my small professional life, wrestling with its difficult details. Zoomed in and involved this way, the small picture is magnified, the large one, blurred. Zoomed in this way I can believe that the world is at peace.
Late-breaking news interrupts. What? Where? How? Who? Interviews and expert opinions show how potentially horrible the large picture might get and the big questions are fired off like missiles in my mind: Do we work through the war? Is there advertising during war? What products or services? How do we keep people employed, earning, having viable lives during war? We are lost, muddling and muddled in a situation without previous models. Frankly, we do not know what to do.
So far (September 24) the only tangible response to the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center might be called a business offensive. Airline companies quickly pushed their pencils and announced job cuts. Managers in the Philippines contemplating the same for much longer consoled each other on the phone. "America can do it. They have unemployment insurance and welfare. Here in the Philippines when you close your business down you know people will go hungry." But how long can we support everyone? How long can we support ourselves?
Sometimes the only way to keep your sanity is to zoom in even closer. We sit on the small stone bridge that connects my living to my dining room contemplating the pond in my newly-built home. "Hammocks would work here, hanging from the rafters, accessible from the house, swinging over the pond. Would make wonderful siestas, don’t you think?"
It’s a great inexpensive idea. "In these uncertain times, maybe we should indulge ourselves while we can." We look at each other but not too intently. We focus on the amusing details of my pond where lily pads host groups of teeny frogs, just grown from pollywogs. "Look at them, just like the cartoons. This is a real Sunday morning at the cartoon swamp."
But I nurture secret thoughts. I wonder not too idly if I can throw edible fish into the pond, grow vegetables and fruit, generate food supply for my family. I feel slightly optimistic and then I realize that a food supply might have helped us through the last war but may not help very much through this one. We don’t know what will see us through this one.
Depression begins to set in so we search for some distraction. Maybe TV. Let’s see if they’ve bombed anyone yet. We feel silent panic rise, fear so large and new we cannot yet define its shape and size. We are afraid we might not contain it. But we brace ourselves and are proud of the steadiness of the hand that presses the on button.
This is life now, better get used to it. There is little we can do to influence the course of events beyond holding our individual course steady and hoping for the best. To amuse ourselves, we zoom in until compelled to zoom out, and then we zoom in again. Anything to push away anxiety and depression.
During the Gulf War, of course, while watching scud missiles light up remote desert skies, I told myself, over and over: It’s not a movie, those explosions probably kill people as I sit and watch. I thought then that nothing could be more emotionally numbing than a televised war.
Now, here we go again.
As the World Trade Center crumbled I sent a text message to my children telling them to watch the beginning of the Third World War. My children believe I overreact and generally take me with a jar of salt. Nevertheless I had to warn them so that they might prepare themselves. They have small children. An event of this magnitude cannot be without repercussions that will affect everyone. We are all in for some pain, some damage. To keep abreast of developments we must become slaves to our TV sets. In that sense the war will be at home with us, in our bedrooms as we sleep.
I work at my office computer, my back to the TV set. I’m in advertising. A TV set is standard office equipment for us. The computer struggles to capture and solve the problems of our business. I am focused, zoomed in to my small professional life, wrestling with its difficult details. Zoomed in and involved this way, the small picture is magnified, the large one, blurred. Zoomed in this way I can believe that the world is at peace.
Late-breaking news interrupts. What? Where? How? Who? Interviews and expert opinions show how potentially horrible the large picture might get and the big questions are fired off like missiles in my mind: Do we work through the war? Is there advertising during war? What products or services? How do we keep people employed, earning, having viable lives during war? We are lost, muddling and muddled in a situation without previous models. Frankly, we do not know what to do.
So far (September 24) the only tangible response to the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center might be called a business offensive. Airline companies quickly pushed their pencils and announced job cuts. Managers in the Philippines contemplating the same for much longer consoled each other on the phone. "America can do it. They have unemployment insurance and welfare. Here in the Philippines when you close your business down you know people will go hungry." But how long can we support everyone? How long can we support ourselves?
Sometimes the only way to keep your sanity is to zoom in even closer. We sit on the small stone bridge that connects my living to my dining room contemplating the pond in my newly-built home. "Hammocks would work here, hanging from the rafters, accessible from the house, swinging over the pond. Would make wonderful siestas, don’t you think?"
It’s a great inexpensive idea. "In these uncertain times, maybe we should indulge ourselves while we can." We look at each other but not too intently. We focus on the amusing details of my pond where lily pads host groups of teeny frogs, just grown from pollywogs. "Look at them, just like the cartoons. This is a real Sunday morning at the cartoon swamp."
But I nurture secret thoughts. I wonder not too idly if I can throw edible fish into the pond, grow vegetables and fruit, generate food supply for my family. I feel slightly optimistic and then I realize that a food supply might have helped us through the last war but may not help very much through this one. We don’t know what will see us through this one.
Depression begins to set in so we search for some distraction. Maybe TV. Let’s see if they’ve bombed anyone yet. We feel silent panic rise, fear so large and new we cannot yet define its shape and size. We are afraid we might not contain it. But we brace ourselves and are proud of the steadiness of the hand that presses the on button.
This is life now, better get used to it. There is little we can do to influence the course of events beyond holding our individual course steady and hoping for the best. To amuse ourselves, we zoom in until compelled to zoom out, and then we zoom in again. Anything to push away anxiety and depression.
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