The Wisdom of Evil (5 page)

Chapter 6

On the drive down to Joan’s house, Glory continued on the path of thoughts
she’d been unable to shed from the night before. Now, in the month of February in the year two-thousand and one, she pondered the beginning of the new millennium.

The year 2001, which
was the true beginning of the millennium, marked the end of the age of Pisces; the years noted for the birth and rise of Christianity. The astrological sign of Pisces, the fish, was also the sign of Christ.

For ages, the world and all that was in it was fought for and won over by men.
The “power elite” used the meek, just as they always had. The meek had
not
inherited the earth as was foretold in the Bible.

The
“power elite” may be a new age term, but in truth, throughout history there have always been those who belonged to this group. Kings, Popes, early political structures, and business men of ages ago laid the foundation for the power elite of today, all interconnected as if by some mysterious club.

Glory often thought perhaps that was the reason there had been only one Catholic president
, John F. Kennedy, and he‘d been assassinated at that.

Now,
a new age had begun, the Age of Aquarius; also believed to be “the end of days.”

Glory believed as many others did, that
The Age of Aquarius didn’t literally mean the end of the world. More likely, it meant the end of the world as the human species had known it for two thousand years. These changes were foretold by prophets and scholars alike to be the age that would bring new hope to the world. When or how, no one really knew.

Some
prophesied that worldwide misery and turmoil would occur first. At the end of the chaos would come a period of profound enlightenment. All that mankind believed he knew, a way of life, would be washed away and a new era of understanding and peace would take place.

The dawn of the new millennia gave Glory a small measure of hope, even
though the year had begun as a time of grief with the passing of her mother. Perhaps man would reach his true potential. Maybe, this new century would bring profound meaning to the hollow, materialistic society that they’d become.

She was glad they’d moved to the country, shedding
the unforgiving streets of the city. Maine had the most undeveloped land of any state in the country and she was thankful that she and Michael had the foresight to buy ten acres of land. They didn’t change the wooded area, instead rejoicing in the nature all around them. The children learned what it meant to live among natural creatures and, in this place; Glory found some measure of peace.

These moments were to be cherished, for it was evidence that she could feel something other than the numbing emptiness she struggled with most of the time.
Her emotions were often contradictory in nature; the pendulum swung between numbing depression, fear of death and overwhelming anxiety. Then there were times when she was highly emotional. These were the times that she knew without a doubt that love truly did exist, that it wasn’t an illusion. Of one thing she was certain; she loved Michael and her children with her whole heart, as much as she was capable of.

Just as she pulled into Joan’s driveway, a truly frightening revelation came to her
, that she was now the oldest member of her immediate family. She would be the next to die, could actually hear a clock ticking away the time in her mind’s eye. Her time was running out!

Entering Joan’s warm colonial kitchen with its heavy pine furnishings and magnificent clapboard cupboards detailed with intricately cut, black wrought iron latches
, she relaxed a little. The Cape Cod curtains blew gently; the smell of vanilla in the air was soothing. Joan kept a window open slightly even in the coldest days of winter “to keep the air crisp and fresh,” she said. Vanilla scented Yankee Candles were always lit in the cozy kitchen.  Glory loved Yankee Candles as well, preferring the scent of spring lilac, relishing the fragrance of them even when they weren’t in season.

Glory told her of her constant dread of the future and her increasingly disturbing thoughts and dreams about death.

“Dear,” she said, her warm hand over Glory’s own. “You worry too much about events you can’t control. No one can.”

“I can’t help it. I really can’t! What should I do? I’m afraid
Michael’s gettin’ tired of hearing it. He wants me to go see a shrink.”

“Glory, I love you like you were my own daughter
.
And you just lost you mother. What you’re feeling is normal. I know you hate strong emotions, but grief is a
necessary
process. Things will get better as time goes on, you’ll see. Keep busy. Go back to the comforts of routine. The kids’ activities, Michael, the house, and your job.”

“Is that what
everyone else does? I mean normal people?”

“You
are
a normal person. You just have a psychological
condition,
not a psychotic one. And yes, dear, most human beings deal with death by ignoring it. We’re all aware of our own mortality, and while the fear of the unknown scares us, we simply choose not to dwell on it.”

An
incomplete answer to be sure. Yes, she’d lost someone, but she still lived and must continue to live her life as fully as possible.

“Aren’t you afraid of death?”

Joan paused for a moment, as if contemplating what to say. “No, I don’t really fear death. I’ve had a good life filled with love. Death is merely a part of life.”

When the kids got in, flying through the kitchen door having just got off the school bus, they were happy to see their
mom up and about. Olivia hugged her tight. Mickey gave her a small, awkward hug. He wasn’t really as comfortable showing physical affection as his sister was.

“Hey, Mom, we goin’ home now?”

“Yeah, we’re goin’ home.”

As Glory was leaving, the kids already buckled in the Jeep, Joan said quietly, “Cherish your life and family. Believe me, raising children, working, being a part of the world; it all goes by in the blink of an eye, and then…it’s gone. You’ll miss it, I guarantee it. I do,
every day.”

At the age of
sixty-six, she was now retired and alone. God, she was such a strong woman! Glory not only loved her, she admired her as well.

A
s time went on, the pain of grief lessened, the wounds began to heal. Ah, but death was far from done with her, and with each loss, a permanent scar was etched upon the heart.

Glory went back to
work, cringing at the looks of sympathy she got when she walked through the large doors of Mainely Paws Animal Hospital. It was still early morning, and the reception room was jammed and noisy. This was a surgery day. Clients were dropping off pets for spays, neuters, dentals and other procedures. There was no time for talk, which Glory was grateful for. She jumped right in, putting hospital bands, which held the animal’s name and info, onto their necks. She took the charts, updated info, brought them to the back where the kennels were, securing each one until the doctor was ready for them.

Before she knew it, it was lunch time. She was making notes to a file when she felt as if she were being watched.
Her two best friends, Kate and Sophia, stood on each side of her. Even though, she hadn’t been here long, the three had become fast friends.

Each one of them hugged her, tears brimming at the edge of their eyes
, and gave their condolences.

“Whatda yah say? Wendy’s for lunch?”
Kate asked.

“I guess that means we’re broke, huh?” Glory laughed. They always went there when they didn’t have much money and wanted to get away from the hospital to talk in private.

“Now, Glory, yah know you love Wendy’s,” Sophia said.

“Yeah, seriously, it’s my idea of gourmet.”

The three sat at a small table, talking about what had been going on in their lives. Kate and Sophia filled Glory in on all the hospital gossip.

Glory told her story
about making the hardest decision she’d ever faced, that of taking her mother off of life support. She saw the compassion and sorrow in their eyes, sharing her feelings, taking them into their own hearts as only true friends could do.

She didn’t mention the nightmares
—burning in the dark chamber without air—as if to speak of it would somehow make it real. Nor did she mention the black, misty smoke; the opaque, barely visible face of what she assumed was the very countenance of the Grim Reaper.

“You
’re one of the strongest women I know, Glory. You always have been. No matter what happens, you always find some inner strength you didn’t know you had,” Sophia quietly remarked, her hand warm and soft on hers. Sophia had the most delicate, long, white fingers. Her touch was, as soft and light as the feathers of an angel’s wing.

Glory questioned her strength. If going into auto pilot when faced with stressful events was strength, then, yes, she did have it
.

Kate and Sophia were the kind of friends that fed the soul. Glory knew that those were hard to come by in this world and she was fortunate to have them.

In fact, as she reflected on her life on the whole
, she believed she was lucky, very lucky indeed.

C
hapter 7

In the fall of two-thousand and one, Glory drove to work surrounded by a beautiful, picture perfect morning; the kind people lived for in New England. The sun shone through the autumn trees, the rays touching and illuminating the trees, creating a magnificent collage of colors— orange, yellow, and blazing red. This was how the morning of September eleventh; two-thousand and one began.

Glory was
on the phone with a client when she heard a great deal of commotion coming from her co-workers. Everyone was crowded around the television in the reception area, watching something she couldn’t see on CNN. Some ran from the sight, making frenzied telephone calls.

“
My God,” whispered the client and told her to “go watch the news” before abruptly hanging up.

“A plane just smashed into the World Trade Center
,” Kate told Glory, her eyes wide with shock.

The time was
8:46 am. While everyone was still reeling, watching the inferno coming from the side of the North Tower, a mere seventeen minutes later, on live television, the second plane hit the South Tower at 9:03 a.m. Approximate travel speed at the time of impact was five hundred and ninety miles per hour.

The
office became complete chaos, everyone talking all at once and then silence as the shock and horror of set in. Who would dare to attack the United States on its own soil?

At that moment in time, the country was totally united,
watching in real time as people jumped out of the sky scrapers to their death to escape the burning buildings. They simply had no other way to get out.

T
he initial shock and horror mingled with sorrow as the photo-journalists taking pictures at the scene lay down their cameras, fell to their knees, and wept.

The manager at Mainely Paws, Aileen
was visibly shaken, trembling, her eyelashes gleaming with tears. She had a daughter, Alex, who lived in New York and worked in Manhattan, a mere two blocks from what would later be known as “ground zero.”

The telephone lines were jammed with calls going in and out of New York. Aileen, repeatedly dialing
, kept getting the some ominous message. “All circuits are busy now; please try again.”

S
he advised everyone to go home. Glory, Kate and Sophia didn’t want to leave her like this. They stayed with her, locking the doors and tending to the animals that were still in the hospital, those who were too sick to go home.

Finally,
after they’d found out that Aileen’s daughter was safe; they all left the hospital to go home and be with their own families. God only knew what the kids were thinking about this horrific event. School had been let out early and while she wasn’t home, Michael was.

The entire family
sat glued to the television, riveted by the scenes of wanton destruction and loss of life as the horrendous details unfolded.

They were
dumbfounded when they learned that the unspeakable chain of events had begun at Portland International Jetport in Portland, Maine a mere forty-five minutes from their home! Flights Eleven and One-Seventy-Five had departed from Logan International Airport, which was a short distance from where Glory had grown up.

As the morning wore on, the
FAA was informed that two more planes, Flight Ninety-Three and Flight Seventy-Seven had also been hijacked. All four flights were originally headed to California to insure that the planes had full tanks of fuel. The attack could have only been expedited by careful, long term planning.

In the early afternoon, President Bus
h put the US Military on Threat Condition Delta, worldwide high alert.

However, on
this particular day NORAD was participating in a week long exercise known as “Vigilant Guardian,” therefore, they were already on high alert. Still, they were unsure if the attack was real or simulated.

In the late afternoon, the towers collapsed, taking all those that remained in the buildings, including many fire fighters and police personnel
, down with them.

Americans
stared in utter shock at a sight they never should have seen. But there it was. The evil that was brought down on United States, going right past their very home, traveling on Interstate 95, the very road Glory and Michael traveled each day to go to and from work.

At six o’clock p
.m., Members of Congress joined on the steps of the U.S. Capitol building and sang “God Bless America.”

That night
, everyone went to bed knowing they lived in a different reality, a reality in which America had been capable of being attacked.

The h
atred of these terrorists toward the United States formed into a twisted notion of nobility, believing it was God’s own will that drove them. That God could possibly condone this evil was incomprehensible.

History
taught that much evil has been done in the name of God, but now it was felt firsthand in all its twisted ideology. The wisdom of it was unimaginable. Persecution of those with different religious beliefs was certainly nothing new or unique. What
was
unique was that the United States, a powerful and privileged country, could have this happen to
them
.

Evil t
ook on many forms, as an ordinary day turned into a calculated and horrific act toward the people of a great country.

In the days that followed, Americans showed their patriotism by flying flags, putting up red, white and blue lighting on their homes
, and wearing these colors at home, work and play.

P
eople were kinder to one another afterwards. The reality penetrated that it could have been any one of them just going to work on a normal day, forced to live a nightmare that resulted in the death and loss of so many.

This was the Pearl Harbor of their generation.
Was this perhaps the singular event, the catalyst for the path the United States found itself upon in later years? Who could say really?