A MATTER OF SHOES
Four years ago when the list of hijackers of 9/11 was released and published in the newspaper, the letter from the head hijacker, Mohammed Atta, to his underlings was also printed. I read somewhat dispassionately the ravings of a dedicated Islamist and almost finished it when I saw something that I didn't expect and but what has stuck with me to this very day. Atta, toward the end of this diatribe, acquires a rather fatherly tone and instructs his followers to, "Make sure your shoes are tight."
These words just flew off the page and into my brain. What do shoes have to do with flying planes into buildings and killing people and killing yourself too!? It just didn't make sense to me. I wanted to hate this man so much and hate the guys that took it upon themselves to try to destroy our country, but there was this something that gave me such pause.
I know what Atta meant when he made this statement. Obviously, he didn't want anyone who was making for the cockpit to have to stop and tie his shoes, but there was just something to it, something human, something gentle, something refined, something incalculable.
But even as I despise their cowardly act, and hate what they represent, and hate what has happened to our world as a result of their act, I can't shake the words of this professorial statement, "Make sure your shoes are tight".
I want to view these guys as less than human, because it would be easier to hate them, to despise them and relish the thought that they are on their way to hell, but this one sentence prevents me from fully giving in to my emotional rage. It gives me pause. It makes me think. It stops the hate before it starts. I mean, they had mothers and fathers too. They had friends and sisters and jobs.
My goodness, they wore shoes!
These words just flew off the page and into my brain. What do shoes have to do with flying planes into buildings and killing people and killing yourself too!? It just didn't make sense to me. I wanted to hate this man so much and hate the guys that took it upon themselves to try to destroy our country, but there was this something that gave me such pause.
I know what Atta meant when he made this statement. Obviously, he didn't want anyone who was making for the cockpit to have to stop and tie his shoes, but there was just something to it, something human, something gentle, something refined, something incalculable.
But even as I despise their cowardly act, and hate what they represent, and hate what has happened to our world as a result of their act, I can't shake the words of this professorial statement, "Make sure your shoes are tight".
I want to view these guys as less than human, because it would be easier to hate them, to despise them and relish the thought that they are on their way to hell, but this one sentence prevents me from fully giving in to my emotional rage. It gives me pause. It makes me think. It stops the hate before it starts. I mean, they had mothers and fathers too. They had friends and sisters and jobs.
My goodness, they wore shoes!
