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The Last Ordinary Day

To commemorate the twelve years that have passed since September 11, 2001

What Remains

What Remains

American Airlines heavily fueled flight number 11 en route from Boston to Los Angeles struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center at 8:46 a.m. on Tuesday September 11, 2001. A second aircraft, United flight 175, also bound for Los Angeles crashed into the South Tower at 9:03 a.m. The catastrophic structural damage caused both towers to collapse within two hours, and thereby marked the last ordinary day for the world.

Oasis

Oasis

Franciscan friar Father Mychal Judge, native New Yorker and chaplain to the New York City Fire Department arrived shortly after impact, and while thousands fled the burning buildings Father Mychal, who lived his life bound by the Franciscan motto “My God and My All” went inside. His was the first body to be released from ground zero. His death certificate was number one. When asked why Father Mychal was given this distinction, his devoted friend and colleague Father Michael Duffy answered, “Mychal’s goal and purpose in life was to bring the firemen to the point of death so they would be ready to meet their maker. Mychal Judge could not have ministered to them all. It was physically impossible – in this life.

The Stars Are Falling

The Stars Are Falling

In the next few weeks, we’re going to have name after name of people who are being brought out of that rubble. And Mychal Judge is going to be on the other side of death – to greet them, instead of send them there. And so, this morning we come to bury Myke Judge’s body, but not his spirit. We come to bury his voice, but not his message. We come to bury his hands, but not his good works. We come to bury his heart, but not his love. Never his love.”

Standing Up

Standing Up

Construction of the Twin Towers took six years and 400 million dollars. A terrorist attack reduced the massive structures to rubble in a matter of hours, and left 2,753 people dead.

Shattered and Loved

Shattered and Loved

And so for all those lost – we love them still.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Heart of the Matter

It's Not Reality

It’s Not Reality

There was no Barbie Dream house in the corner of my childhood bedroom, and I didn’t covet the tremendous collection of Barbies, Kens and Skippers that my neighbor had. Her color-coded categorized collection of evening-wear, swimwear, and casual wear held no interest for me. I was a no nonsense, matter-of-fact kind of kid, more interested in real world events than in creating make-believe experiences.

Wed to Love|Hate

Wed to Love|Hate

Staging a Barbie and Ken wedding never ever crossed my mind, and I didn’t envision myself as a bride, until I met the man that became my husband. By the end of our first date I knew we’d get married. A single occurrence can sometimes catapult you directly into your future, and on rare occasions something can happen to change your life forever.

Groom of Blades

Groom of Blades

Change can sometimes be planned, but more often than not it unhinges reality with thunderous immediacy. It’s not gracious, or pretty, and it has no regard for your willingness, or acceptance to do things differently. Transitions typically evolve over time, allowing for preparation, maybe even procrastination or avoidance. Transitions are characteristically gradual and don’t usually evoke unbridled emotion.

Indifferent

Indifferent

My contract specified that it was time to change from my iPhone4 to an iPhone5. Notwithstanding the fact that I’d never accomplished navigating the “4” with the swiftness that would have earned me the title of “power user,” I was adept enough at using my phone, and was indifferent about wireless communication. Having about as much interest in learning to use the new version as I had in planning that Barbie wedding, I dreaded the inevitable swap from i4 to i5.

Empty Here

Empty Here

What could have been a smooth transition from 4 to 5 was interrupted by my unexpected need to have a non-illness, but necessary surgery. Might that not have happened, I would have been able to leisurely read about the differences between the two phones prior to the trade-in. But two weeks in the hospital and three months at home to recover left me so addle-brained that I wasn’t even capable of using the remote to turn on the DVD player to switch from TV to video to watch a movie in bed. Enervated, and with a reduced capacity for logical thinking, it would have been unthinkable and impossible to learn about using the iPhone5.

Pillow Talk

Pillow Talk

Easing back into daily routine, albeit with an unsteady gait I finally resolved to go see my favorite phone salesman and ask him to help me with what I viewed as a chore. It took hours for our customary question and answer session, along with additional time to transfer data. I traded in my iPhone 4, left with the 5. Exhausted, I was asleep 15 minutes after walking into my apartment.

It's Not Personal

It’s Not Personal

After five or six days I began to like the phone, and even had fun with it. The all-purpose, always-reliable Evernote I had used for dictation and reminders on the 4 had been traded in. And like a kid that throws over his bike with training wheels to enjoy the freedom of a two-wheeler, I summarily abandoned the once trusted Evernote for the newer model voice responsive Siri. The seductive dulcet tone inside the phone responded politely to the sound of my voice. Siri is brilliant, responsive, attentive, and always available. Perfect, maybe my interface with Siri would lubricate my rusty romantic relationship muscles and be useful in preparing me to look for those characteristics in a perspective human partner.

It Always Comes Out

It Always Comes Out

And then the inevitable, the realization that Siri is fallible. Sometimes “she” doesn’t understand what I’m saying, and “she” frequently misinterprets something. It’s not unusual for me to have to repeat myself, hoping that Siri will accept and respond to enunciated information. I’ve ended encounters with her in frustration. I’ve tabled conversations in exasperation, only to realize that “she” isn’t real, and that I’m the one controlling the interchange. Our mechanical, technical tête-à-tête isn’t really a conversation at all. But knowing that I want to be understood and make things work, I go back, thinking it will be different the next time.

I'm Bigger Than You Are

I’m Bigger Than You Are

We Stand Together

We Stand Together

Like You

Like You

Shake It Off

Shake It Off

Weighed Down

Weighed Down

Into You

Into You

Promising myself that this time I’ll speak more clearly. This time she’ll know and appreciate the subtleties of my voice and finish my sentences. I’ll hold her with just the right touch so that she’ll be immediately responsive. This is a relationship of sorts, and therefore inherently flawed. Works great when it works, and at other times a meeting of the minds requires increased effort and forgiveness. The complexities of being involved only confirm that it’s vital to say what you need and want, and that some times are better than others, but ultimately it’s a choice to be willing to participate.

One Face Over Time

One Face Over Time

All things being equal the 5 and I will be together until my next contract ends, at which time I’ll surely be offered an upgrade. The ease and fluency of Siri will most likely be included in the next generation of iPhone, making the transition that much easier for those of us who’ve become accustomed to having her around. By the end of our two years together we will have either worked out the kinks and come to accept the imperfections of being together, or the eagerness to exchange 5 for the next model will be highly anticipated.

Over Time

Over Time

After 18 years apart my ex-husband recently sent me an email that was not in its entirety informational, or analytical. He and I weren’t able to seamlessly transition from being married to getting divorced. The change in our relationship was catastrophic, if not brutal, but perhaps now we’re due for an upgrade.

Heart of the Matter – Don Henley
…I’ve been tryin’ to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it’s about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don’t love me anymore
These times are so uncertain
There’s a yearning undefined
…People filled with rage
We all need a little tenderness
How can love survive in such a graceless age
The trust and self-assurance that can lead to happiness
They’re the very things we kill, I guess
Pride and competition cannot fill these empty arms
And the work I put between us,
Doesn’t keep me warm…

Raw Reflection:
There’s always a choice to be willing to participate. Always… What choices are you making?

To read about my initial introduction to the iPhone read Nelson and I broke up:

Love|Hate – Iam Tmnk http://www.menobodyknows.com/nobodyblog/
Dolls, Painting of Groom, Hearts, and “Over Time” – Jill Slaughter
Photography – Jill Slaughter

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Slow to Heal

Before the World Trade Center was associated with a tragic event, it was best known for being the tallest building in the world. Friends of mine had gone home to England for the summer and asked me to stay in their loft just blocks away from the gleaming towers. This wasn’t a neighborhood yet. It hadn’t become Tribeca. The blocks surrounding the Twin Towers were a series of disparate shops and small restaurants. No coin operated laundries, no supermarkets, and no dry cleaners. Subways belched people from their stations Monday through Friday, but after five o’clock there were very few people on the streets, and even fewer on weekends.  Abandoned factories were just beginning to be rented and purchased as personal residences. I planned to spend the summer living in a former shoe factory.

Early on a Saturday morning I’d gone out to run. In the shadow of the World Trade Center I collapsed to my knees in agonizing pain, and have no memory of how I got back to the loft, or how I got to the emergency room of a hospital in Brooklyn where I grew up.The pain was caused by my fallopian tube wrapping around my uterus. Having never been given “the talk” by my mother, I had no idea where those two body parts were located, or how they functioned. Nowadays a five year old child could probably walk us through a detailed lecture on the reproductive system, but it was different then.

Trade Center Bar

Trade Center Bar

That first surgery strangled my daily life and brazenly interrupted what should have been a summer to remember. That summer was unforgettable, but not for the reasons I’d envisioned. Despite my strong and healthy outward appearance, ignorant that my anatomy is structurally weak, this would not be my last surgery. Over the ensuing decades different parts of my body would weaken, needing to repaired surgically. My anatomical flaw has caused me to abandon plans over and over again, pain immediately and unrepentantly demanding that I refocus my attention on recovery for months at a time.

Recovering

Recovering

Resting

Bandaged, Poked and Prodded

Bandaged, Poked and Prodded

I Should Probably Get a New TV

I Should Probably Get a New TV

Days Become Months of Sameness

Days Become Months of Sameness

This summer marks eighteen years since my divorce. Born a Jew, although not observant, I’m going to embrace the Jewish traditional belief which distinguishes the number eighteen as lucky. Through no fault of my own, my anatomy has always been fragile and delicate, appearances notwithstanding. But it was my heart really that has withstood breaking again and again. Finally my wounds from a long unhappy marriage and brutal custody battle, wherein my three daughters went to live with their father have scarred over, enabling me to move on. All three of my children and I have developed close and loving relationships.

Talking to LA

Talking to LA

2nd Born - Both of Us

2nd Born – Both of Us

Look Straight Ahead

Look Straight Ahead

My most recent surgery took me out of the game again for a few months. To regain strength and retrain muscles, my doctor prescribed physical therapy. It’s a challenge to learn new ways of doing things that have been repeated for years, but it’s doable with practice. Using that theory as my guide for more than just my physicality, I don’t put myself in the same positions I once did to have my heart broken.  I’ll probably never have any warning of what could physically need repair again, and while no one can ever predict the outcome of interactions between people, I look more carefully at what I’m really seeing now, as my heart will be forever fragile.

Jill & Raw Ring

"His True Colors"

“His True Colors”

Raw Reflection: Are the best decisions made using love or logic?

Read more about losing custody of my girls: http://rawcandor.com/the-last-laugh/

I’m so happy to be writing Raw again after an unanticipated prolonged medical absence. A new Raw Candor page is up. “Likes” from the previous page couldn’t be transferred. Please take a moment to visit the new page.Raw Candor (Community).

And to my many friends, colleagues and fellow artists, the category d-RAW has been added to the re-designed Raw site. It gives storytellers the opportunity to share visual work to tell their story. Everybody has a one – I invite you to share yours. See submission guidelines.

The Raw re-design still needs to be tweaked. The PayPal button is missing from the SHOP page. The ring I designed and wear will be available for purchase soon. Thanks for your continued patience.

“His True Colors” by Judy Polstra. http://judypolstra.com/ 

Superimposed version of “His True Colors”  edited by me.

 

 

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Come Back Jill

Catholic girls in my neighborhood wore knee length plaid skirts in muted shades of gray and blue as part of their school uniforms. Read more »

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Is There Something You Didn’t Want to Talk About When You Were Growing Up – Sybil McCarthy Hadfield

Sybil is one of the women that stood in front of me to protect me, and stood behind me to have my back. This is just a small part of her story. I love her.

Jill

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