Chapter 83.7: My 9/10 Novel

Living in northern New Jersey, it's difficult, if not impossible, to not think about the events of 9/11, 2001. Indeed, it's probably bad for your mental health not to think about it from time to time if you lived through it here. I suspect I will always remember exactly where in my commute I heard about the first plane hitting one of the Twin Towers. I chastised myself for assuming we were under attack — especially after the guy on WDHA amended his comments saying that it had been a small plane, not a large plane as he initially had heard.

In between the time I parked my car and turned off the engine and I entered my office, the second plane had hit the second tower. It immediately struck me: We're at war.

By 9/10, 2001, I had begun my first novel and written about thirty pages. I was stuck not on what to write next but when did my story occur. Was the time significant? On 9/11, I realized that we had just experienced an important line of demarcation in history; there is a pre-9/11 world and a post-9/11 world. From there, I had to determine how this affected my novel

I decided to use it obliquely. My novel begins on 9/10, 2000 and ends on 9/10, 2001. Because such attacks were barely contemplated by the average person, nothing more than faint glimpses of fear and omen are displayed. The story takes place in Hoboken, New Jersey, a town I know well that lies directly across the river from New York City. Ground Zero is within view. Indeed, the clouds of smoke and debris floated above the river after the towers fell.

Whether my oblique references to the tragedy of 9/11 should remain part of my novel — and not an overt focus of it — has been a frequent point of discussion with my initial readers. Usually I bring it up, but some of my readers have anticipated the question. I still think it's more than just a moment of inspiration; I think it's important to the story, subtle though it remains.

So, each year, I think a lot about the people who experienced 9/11 first hand. I lost a friend that day and thank God that I didn't lose more people who were close to me. I lost some innocence as well, which is largely what my novel is about — not my loss of innocence, but the nation's; or maybe it's that our eyes were opened to the terrible possibilities. And I reflect on those fictional people who mean so much today who came to life on 9/11.

With my young innocents at home, I have had almost no time to work on the latest novel much less to send my "finished" one out to agents. I respect their time and my own too much to look for representation when I don't have the time to respond appropriately if I should actually get an offer. It's like going fishing without the strength to reel in the fish.

Remember 9/11, my friends, in your own way. It's important for all Americans, regardless of political party or ideology.

Chapter 74.95: The Other Woman (One of Many)

The New York Times has exposed the woman who helped bring down Governor Spitzer. Not that she did it; Spitzer hung himself in this affair. He got what he deserved.

In this crazy world, the young, attractive brunette will probably get her big chance at musical stardom, which she claims on her MySpace page is her goal. The Times describes her music, which starts automatically when you get to her page, as "an amateurish, hip-hop inflected rhythm and blues tune," but she didn't make any outrageous comments in her interview with the Times. If she can be packaged properly, she can probably cut a record ... and then who knows? America loves a Cinderella story.

We've heard the last of Eliot Spitzer in politics for quite some time, but it wouldn't surprise me at all if this is not the last we hear of Jersey girl Ashley Alexandra Dupre.

Chapter 61.9: Leaving on a Soft Note

As a lifelong New Jerseyan, I'm not ashamed to say I've enjoyed the Sopranos. I'm not Italian, so perhaps others can feel properly offended in how the show portrays people who are Italian. But we Jerseyans aren't always well thought of either, and the show didn't exactly make us out to look like the intelligent, fun-loving people we usually are. The show had its moments, of course.

But the final episode was somewhat disappointing. The chief complaint is that it left few things resolved. Sure Phil Leotardo is no more, and I'm not complaining about that. It was time to go, yaknowwhadI mean? And as he looked directly into the camera and waved goodbye to his grandkids in the back of the SUV, every viewer knew what was coming next.

The final moment, however, when the screen went black and the sound stopped, reminded me of an Andy Kaufman special from the late 70s. The screen went to a fuzz and I ended up trying to get the picture back in place by whacking the side of the TV. Then it came back on and in his Latka Gravas voice, Andy was doing the same thing and complaining about how he hates his television. We were all fooled, and we laughed uproariously.

But that was comedy. The Sopranos was more than a dramatic story of a criminal family living in New Jersey. It was a metaphor for life -- from the ducks on the swimming pool at the very beginning, to Christopher's fiance Adrianna puking on the table at the FBI (best vomit scene ever!), to AJ's Hummer catching fire and exploding, to Meadow having difficulty parallel parking as she hurries to meet her family for dinner. And always there's somebody hanging around who you're just not sure about.

Closure? Not in Jersey, apparently.

Ultimately, I'll miss the Sopranos. They were real life. Not my life, of course, but theirs. It was usually interesting. At times shocking. But what kept us coming back was that theirs was a family that kept trying, in spite of themselves. I don't mean the Family, but Carmella, Tony, and the kids. Seeing family relate to each other is always good.

Chapter 54.7: Here Comes the Sun

As I arrived at Hoboken station this morning, the Beatles' Here Comes the Sun began playing over the loudspeaker. Most days there is no music whatsoever on the platform, save the scant whispers coming out of other people's iPods as I pass them.

I don't know why the George Harrison song was in the air, but for the ninety seconds or so that it took me to get from one end of the platform to the PATH trains, I was pleased and amazed and happy.

Chapter 54.5: Quality Counts

A new report has me more concerned about the state of education in this country than I already was. I’ve always appreciated that I grew up in an educated, inquisitive family in an area that was also well-educated and populated with folks who had a similar educational foundation. In short, I grew up with a lot of smart people.

While I understand intellectually that not everyone is as fortunate as I am in this regard, the findings of Quality Counts 2007 are staggering. It’s bad enough that the state-by-state analysis shows that the luck of the draw can hamstring a child’s development (God forbid you grow up in the beautiful state of New Mexico, it seems to say), but what’s worse is that even some states that “excel” relative to the others don’t always post impressive numbers. The top state in middle-school math, for example, is Massachusetts, where less than half of students meet NAEP (National Assessment of Educational Progress) standards. In Washington, D.C., the figures are abysmal – less than 7 percent!

I fear the level of mathematics knowledge has dwindled to near innumeracy. Ask most kids the difference between the mean and the median and you might consider yourself lucky if they knew one of them meant "the average." The strong students are better educated; for the average ones, it seems to be a matter of where you live and whether you had a strong enough grammar school experience to create an academic foundation for the future. And with the state of public education in many areas of the country being so horrible, we're in danger of developing an enormous number of youth in this generation who don't know how to think through problems far more challenging than what a statistical midpoint is called.

I’m not afraid for the smart students, the kids on the far end of the bell curve. I’m afraid for those in the middle. They are by definition the majority of students, and if we can’t educate them better, then the consequences for the future are harrowing.

Who or what is to blame? Is the curriculum too hard? I doubt it –- life is only getting more complicated as we strive to create more convenience for ourselves. Are teachers worse? Perhaps, but they’re also products of our education system -– it’s a chicken/egg argument that isn’t feeding anyone’s imagination to solve the problem. Public policy? State initiatives? Federal initiatives? Yes to all, but it’s still not enough. The thing that galls me most is there are a lot of smart people trying to solve this problem, and no one has an answer that doesn’t involve leaving a lot of children and young adults educationally destitute. I’m open to suggestions. Personally, I’m going to learn how to tutor someone and start there.