The Beauty of Nine Years After

Nine years ago September 9 posted a lingering day for summer. My friend Alice had a Porsche Boxer waiting at Newark. I accompanied her across the Hudson and after receiving the convertible sports car, we headed north toward New Paltz. Destination - Lake Minnewaska Park. I had been extolling the beauty of the farther lake's slanted granite beach and looked forward to a last swim before autumn. Alice's car had diplomatic plates. She kept the car below 90, except for the uphill runs on the Northway. State troopers only post downhill speed traps. we made good time listening to her collection of 80s hits. Our friendship dated back to London. Leicester Square. 1986. She had arrived at the Cafe de Paris in a rubber dress. I let her in immediately, never guessing that this sliver of blonde was a diplomat for the shards of the English Empire. Exiting at New Paltz Alice switched to the radio. NPR was reporting on America's pulling out of the South African conference on racism. The delegation contested the vote on Israel's mistreatment of the occupied territories. "That's not good." Our new president was born-again. Israel was always right in their eyes. "Israel has a right to protest any accusation as does the countries opposing it." Alice was 100% on the side of compromise to achieve peace. "Stolen lands." I felt the same way about the north counties of Ireland, but said nothing. It was too beautiful a day. The Gunks were crowded with rock climbers. People come from around the country to attack the ascent routes. We drove by these cliffs to the park. The lot was half-filled. Throwing towels over our shoulders and carrying bathing suits in hand Alice and I set out for Lake Awosting. Few hikers were on the trail. Unusual for such a lovely day. The path had been built for vacationers at the Lake Mohonk Resort. A carriage road designed to offer panoramic vistas of the Hudson Valley. Alice and I enjoyed our walk and soon Lake Awosting came into sight. Boreal blue water surrounded by evergreen pines. No one on the granite beach. A ATV rolled up the trail. “Where you heading?” She was a hefty female. 30 and thick of limb. “Lake Awosting.” I had been coming here since the 80s. Once I had jumped off the cliff into Lake Minnewaska. A good drop of 70 feet. Once was enough. “You’re not going swimming there?” Her voice adopted a tone of authority. “Why not?” I was dumbfounded by her interrogation. This was America. The Land of the Free. “Because it’s against the law to swim in the lakes after Labor Day.” "My friend has been saying that Lake Awosting is the best swim in the Catskills. We thought that we might test his theory." Alice's accent was sheer Oxford. The language of command. “There are no lifeguards.” The ranger stood, as if she had been instructed to enforce this mandate by GW Bush himself. “I can swim three miles. What’s the problem?” I knew that the problem was that lawyers were waiting for some drunk fool to jump into the lake and break their back, so they could sue the state parks for several million dollars. “It’s the law.” She touched my arm. She had diplomatic immunity. Also tact. I had neither. Only a sense of outrage. Explanations were a waste of breath. Law was the law. We turned away from our destination. Swimming in the crystal water was a forbidden pleasure. “I hate this America.” On the way back to New York the radio announced the USA bailing out of the Racism Conference in South Africa in protest of a nearly unanimous condemnation of Israel for their occupation of Palestine. “Another thing I hate about America. Israel.” Police against swimming were synonymous with the Israeli Defense Force smashing down doors in Jericho. I needed a drink. Alia and I stopped at a bar in New Paltz. Three beers later I was ready to resume our return to New York. Alia was sober. She never drank liquor. Her thrill was speed and the Porsche hit 140 on the Freeway. The next day it rained from morning to night. I nursed a hangover with more beer and woke the next morning to a thump. A funny sound. Almost like an explosion. I got dressed to see what was the problem. Black smoke filled the southern sky. A neighbor said a plane had hit the World Trade Tower. It was no joke. Neither was the second plane or the collapse of the iconic skyscrapers. America was under attack. By Al-Quada. And we were out for blood. First Afghanistan. The Taliban were sheltering the enemy. Next up Iraq. “Nuke them into the Stone Age.” My older brother wanted revenge. We all did. “Iraq didn’t have anything to do with 9/11.” 15 of the hijackers were from Saudi Arabia. None of the pilots. Something was fucked up about that, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. “why do you think we were attacked?” “It’s unimportant. Fucking the Arabs is what we have to do.” And that’s what America has done since 9/11. Bomb the shit out of Iraq. A billion bullets a year in Afghanistan. Torture the towelheads. Beat their feet with rubber hoses. Drone missiles to every corner of their backward lands. TORA TORA TORA. Without mercy. And now the towelheads want to put up a mosque several blocks from the site of the devastated WTC. “Sacrilege.” GOP. “Freedom of religion.” Democrats. An election issue for November 2010. Not for me. I believe in the temple of non-belief. How many people have been killed for atheism? Zero. But both sides hate godlessness. So let them slaughter each other in the name of their idols. There is only one truth. Peace. And swimming in Lake Awosting.