I weep for Paris' lost youth, freedom, and kindness in the world. When I think about what happened in Paris (and Beirut just days before), I try to remember that there are far more of us than them. That billions of us are crying out in anger and frustration that these dangerous, vindictive, and ruthless extremist thugs have once again hijacked our lives, killing too many of us, to spew their messages of hate. I stand with Paris, Beirut, and anywhere terror strikes and urge them to defy these monsters.
I remember the first time I saw Paris in the early 1980s. It was shortly after I graduated college. A friend and I took a trip to Europe. We stayed at a great little B&B on the Rive Gauche, bought food at the open-air markets. While my friend stayed in her room each night, counting her money and pining for her boyfriend, I went out in the evenings with a handsome student name Thierry to see films, meet his friends at cafés, and discuss the arts, films, books, and politics in the beautiful city of lights.
I was mesmerized with Paris and loved every minute there. Then there was a terrorist attack. Thierry took us to the U.S. Embassy. That night a couple of off-duty Marines took us to the Gare du Nord and put us on the night train to Amsterdam. We shared a compartment with Carlos, a student from Venezuela who was studying in France and moving to Madrid after he graduated. My friend grabbed all the jackets and fell asleep. Carlos and I huddled together, freezing, and talked all night about the nature of terror.
What was true then is true now. When I watched the news this past Friday, and learned about the horrific attacks, I kept looking for familiar spots I had visited long before.
On that night train, we agreed that the world has never been a kind place, although the depths of human kindness and generosity on an individual level are staggering. The world is beautiful and exhilarating, but it's always been dangerous. From natural disaster to human depredation, danger has always lurked just out of sight, just long enough to lull you into a false sense of security and then it pounces, much like a cat playing with its toys.
I have to admit, I was pretty skittish after what had happened earlier that day. Although by the second day in France, I was already dreaming in French, and my reading of the language was rusty but passable. I just remember the screaming headlines, and my friend Thierry telling me what happened. After that day, I never saw him again, but I have always been forever grateful that he escorted us to the Embassy.
Carlos asked if I was afraid, and I was. I also admitted that I was monumentally naïve. I knew that in England, if you saw an unattended package lying around, your duty was to report it at once, but I never saw one, and in my American arrogance, I could not conceive of being caught in an IRA blast or some other type of terrorist attack. That happened to other people, not me.
He said that even though he'd been in Munich in 1972 with his family, and had witnessed the horror of the mass murder of Israeli athletes, he was frightened too, and he wanted to talk.
So we did. All night long.
We talked history and all the atrocities we've perpetrated on each other in the name of nationalism, religion, blind loyalty, hatred, prejudice, arrogance, and ignorance. We tried to heal the world, but maybe we only healed our own little corner of it. We faced our fears, internalized them, and faced the world wiser and much sadder.
Oddly, that night, on the train in the dark, mired outside a Belgian field where cows were sleeping, I learned a valuable lesson in courage from a boy not too much older than I. I learned that courage is a learned attribute. It's respecting your fear, and using it to spur you on.
When Sept. 11, 2001 happened to the United States, in a way, I almost felt as if the other shoe had dropped. It was sadly our turn to meet the monsters. I thought of that night on the train and was determined not to let my fear control my actions, my liberty, or me. I moved beyond my fear and I wouldn't let the evil-doers conquer me.
I can't do much about the evil of the world. Ignorance sadly rules and until all the peoples of Earth unite and eradicate this threat, we will live under fear. When Franklin Roosevelt said, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself," I guess he meant that we must face each fear with courage and overcome it.
His wife, Eleanor Roosevelt, might have said it better: "You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.'"
Carlos, on that late night train to Amsterdam, helped me realize this.
So, to the people of Paris, Beirut, and everyone affected by the ISIL monsters...
I can only wish you,
Courage.