Black Christmas

Sunday, August 7, 2011

New York City

It was a beautiful summer Sunday afternoon in New York City. The city was amazing, existing in a world all its own. No other place on earth, or for that matter, anywhere else in the universe, compares to it. The over 8 million people who live in the city, along with the additional 11.5 million people who reside in the surrounding communities, make it come alive. The city itself is like a person, with a unique personality and a unique perspective. The people are its blood, its soul.

Visitors to the city are often overwhelmed. They feel intimidated. Everything seems so huge. The pace seems so fast. The millions of faces all look different, yet they all seem the same.

It is easy to tell New Yorkers from non-New Yorkers when walking along its  busy streets. New Yorkers walk around with an attitude. It’s not a bad thing. They walk around with a look of self-assured determination,  moving at a breakneck pace. They know where they are going. They know how to get there and want to get there now.

Non-New  Yorkers often display a look of total confusion. They always move as if  they are lost, and, in many cases, are. You can’t blame them, however.  Not only is the city massive, but it can be overwhelming. It is incredible how hard it is to tell north from south and east from west.  Yet New Yorkers do it with their eyes closed.

Manhattan, the part that non-New Yorkers think of when they envision New York City, has three distinct parts: the area south of 14th Street, the grid, which runs from 14th Street to 181st Street, and the part north of  181st Street. You do not typically hear it described that way, but that is how it is.

Getting lost south of 14th Street and north of 181st Street is easy. The streets run every which way. However, navigating the grid is easy.  Streets go from the East River on the east side of Manhattan to the  Hudson River on the west side in an east-to-west direction. Most streets are one-way to vehicular traffic either their entire length or, at  least, when crossing Midtown's main avenues. There are exceptions. Every few blocks, the streets are six lanes with two traffic lanes and one  stopping lane in each direction. This includes the world-famous 42nd  Street.

Occasionally,  the streets are blocked. Places like Union Square, the Convention  Center, Madison Square Garden, Bryant Park, Grand Central Terminal,  Lincoln Center, and the most famous, Central Park, get in the way. There is nothing that can be done but go around them.

Central  Park is a paradise in the middle of Manhattan. It stretches from 59th Street (Central Park South) to 110th Street (Central Park North) and extends from Fifth Avenue on the east side to Eighth Avenue (Central  Park West) on the west side. It is a marvelous oasis with trees, lakes, a  zoo, a theater, and two ice skating rinks, among other things. It is  wonderful to ride a bike along its winding road or snuggle with someone  special in a horse-drawn carriage.

The avenues go from north to south. For the most part, they are also one-way almost their entire length, but, unlike the streets, they are  wide with several lanes of traffic. All the avenues have buses running on them, and many have subway lines beneath them.

Park  Avenue is one of the few avenues that is a two-way street its entire  length. South of 96th Street, it is a beautiful boulevard with a garden center mall. North of 96th Street, it is an ugly urban street divided by  the commuter railroad above it.

Fifth  Avenue, the most famous street in the world, is the dividing line  between east and west. Once you understand the basic layout of the grid,  getting around that part of the city is simple. The grid, however, is a  small part of the entire city. After all, the city is sprawled across  five boroughs, covering approximately 470 square miles. Manhattan is the  smallest borough. Its grid is 17 square miles, which is less than 4  percent of the city's total area.

In  addition to New Yorkers and non-New Yorkers, there is another group of  people in New York that often goes unnoticed. They are the people in  transition. They are not native to New York City, but they have decided  to make it their home. These courageous souls walk around with assured  self-determination, but seem lost, or they walk around with the look of  total confusion, and at a fast pace as if they know where they are  headed. Most people in this category eventually return to their place of  origin or settle elsewhere, not in New York City. Adjusting to life in  New York City can be a challenging experience. But those few brave souls  who manage to weather the storm soon become real New Yorkers, accepted  by all as bona fide members of the New York population.

Outsiders  often feel intimidated by New Yorkers. But if they let their guard  down, they soon discover New York City is a friendly place. With its  vast variety of people from all parts of the Earth and all walks of  life, it is the easiest place in the world to fit in, to get lost in, or  to hide. If you want to remain anonymous, New York City is the place.

If  an alien civilization from outer space wanted to place people somewhere  on Earth where they would be unnoticed, New York City would be their  first choice. They could beam people right into the middle of the  busiest places, say Grand Central Terminal or Times Square, or a subway  car during rush hour, and no one would notice. The fact that one moment  there was no one standing in a particular spot and the next moment there  was someone there meant nothing. They probably did not even have to  look human.

People  in New York City accept everyone, regardless of their appearance or  background. Life in New York City is exactly like that. People come and  go, and no one notices. You cannot beam people into the middle of a  sold-out sports event without starting a fight over seats, but other  than that, New York City is fair game.

If  you need to have a meeting that will go unnoticed, raise no eyebrows,  and remain completely clandestine, you do it in New York City, out in  the open. You pick a beautiful summer Sunday afternoon when both  hometown baseball teams are playing and get together in one of New  York’s countless busy restaurants or pubs. No one, absolutely no one,  will know you were there. It is the easiest place in the world to hide  in plain sight.

Today,  there will be one such meeting among four men. The four men have never  met before. They do not know each other’s names. They know nothing about  each other. Yet, to the casual observer, this will appear to be a  meeting of four long-time friends chatting over burgers and beer.

Beer,  a classic American drink, is used to socialize and share stories. Some  claim it is refreshing and especially delightful with a good meal on a  hot summer day. The best thing is drinking it at a stadium while eating  hot dogs and watching a baseball game; three hours of grown men swinging  a stick at a ball, running around a field trying to tag each other, and  earning astronomical amounts of money.

Half  of the spectators in the stands are drunk by the middle of the game.  They cannot tell who is playing and what the score is. By then, they no  longer care. They jump up and scream when the sober half jumps up and  screams. They act like fools, mimicking each other. Everyone has a great  time, made even better by the flow of beer. American fun is so strange.

What  do Americans and Europeans see in beer? Well, they are all infidels.  And beer, one of their favorite drinks, shows their poor judgment. Beer;  looks like piss; smells like piss; tastes like… What is that old  American expression? “If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and  quacks like a duck…” Whatever.

For  today, the four men will indulge. They need to fit in. They must look,  sound, and act American. There is that expression again.

The  irony is that they are American. Born, raised, and educated in the  United States, they are legally, technically, in every way American. No  one would ever suspect these four men of doing anything borderline  illegal, let alone committing treason. And yet, today, in the middle of  New York City, they will swear an oath that will soon send repercussions  worldwide. That is precisely what makes each of these men especially  dangerous.

On  the surface, these men are exemplary. They all served in the American  military and had spotless records. The American military is excellent at  training, but Americans lack the passion that drives people dedicated  to a cause. None of the men had ever received a citation for anything,  not even for jaywalking or speeding. They had never bounced a check.  They held good jobs, had an excellent credit rating, owned a home,  always paid their taxes, and voted in every election. By American  standards, they are not just Americans. They are model citizens.

What  appears on paper, though, does not describe what lives in the heart.  One’s public image does not necessarily reflect one’s real makeup. Sure,  America has been good to them, and they have faithfully paid their  dues. However, they have a belief for which they are willing to die. If  you were willing to die for a cause, then it stands to reason that you  are willing to kill for it. And while dying might bring personal  satisfaction and personal reward, killing makes a much bigger statement. They will kill for their cause. They will kill many. And, if in the  process they should die, well, one could not wish for a better reward.

Honor.  That is important. If they died, their actions might bring them honor.  Honor that their families would enjoy for generations to come. The  honor, though, might have to be silent. People, even those closest to  them, might not realize they had played a role in the tremendous victory  they were about to achieve. But that is okay. Honor with humility is  even greater than honor alone. And as far as rewards are concerned, the  only rewards that truly matter are the ones in the world beyond. And  with God, nothing ever goes unnoticed.

But  is there honor in killing cowards? After all, that’s what Americans  are: cowards. Whenever someone attacks them, they retreat with their  tails between their legs and try to make it seem as if everything is  normal. They rationalize that continuing their daily lives is the best  way to show the world how tough they are. The truth is that they go on  with their daily lives so they can make believe nothing has happened.  Sure, the people directly affected by the attack might bear pain for  some time, but they will do so alone and in silence. For the rest of the  Americans, life goes on. But things are about to change.

This  next holy mission will affect all Americans, and they will be unable to  continue their daily lives. Life, as they know it, will never be the  same. Americans will start waking up every morning like countless people worldwide, wondering whether this will be their last day. When you can  no longer take tomorrow for granted, it will change your perspective on  life. Even if they never accept the one true God, the world will be  better if Americans learn to live each day as if it were their last.

There  probably is no honor in killing cowards. It might raise their status  and turn them into martyrs. But what do Americans know about martyrdom?  They think that those who die are victims, innocent victims. They do not  understand that in a war, everyone is a soldier, not just men but also  women and children. When Americans die, people call them victims instead  of heroes. It’s just as well. Cowards cannot be heroes.

There  probably is no honor in killing cowards. But infidels, that is a  different story. No matter where they hide, no matter how they cry, no  matter how they beg, infidels must die. Even their Bible says so. After  all, when God told the Israelites to conquer the land He had given them,  He did not order them to kill the men. The women and children had to  die as well. No, there is no honor in killing cowards. But infidels,  that is a different story.

Beer.  Well, they are right about one thing. It is refreshing. Is that a sin?  Is it a sin to think that something so evil is refreshing? It does not  matter. They will repent later. And if, because of their actions, they  die before repenting, it will not matter. The glory of their achievement  will be so powerful that it will absolve them of every evil, large or  small, real or imagined. They will praise the Almighty for giving them  this opportunity to enter the gates of heaven with eternal salvation and everlasting reward.

Throughout  their entire life, they have stood by on the sidelines, watching and waiting for their call. Now, they have received their call to do  something far greater, far more powerful, than anything that man has  ever done. Their actions will not just be an event in human history.  Their actions will define the way humans behave for the rest of history.  Their actions will completely erase all history. Nothing in the human  past will matter anymore. They will finally redefine the world and model  it according to the will of the one true God. Never mind the past  millennia. They will be of no consequence. Welcome to year zero. Well,  maybe not today, but soon.

Beer.  It brings old friends together. It turns strangers into friends.  However, today, there will be no new friendships. The four men will walk  away from their encounter knowing as much about each other as they knew  before they met. They need to know nothing. They come as individuals,  as strangers. They will leave as individuals; as strangers; joined by a  common cause; by a shared responsibility; but they will remain  strangers, nonetheless.

They  will talk. It will be a casual conversation. If they are overheard,  there will be nothing anyone can piece together that will hint at what  is taking place. Yet, when they walk away, they will have goals,  responsibilities, and a firm date on which they will take some action.  And they are to accomplish this by laughing over beer. And they must,  for they will never see each other again. They might never speak with  each other again. When they leave their encounter today, they will go  with a plan and a commitment, making their mission as good as done.

They  will all be wearing hats. Hats are a sign of piety. But the Almighty is  so great that Americans all wear hats. They do it to mimic their idols;  their gods. American ball players all wear hats. It has become so  commonplace that the men would look out of place if their heads were  bare. They wear baseball caps, like the other Americans. One man’s cap  is red, bearing an emblem of the Florida Marlins. Another man’s is a  white cap with an emblem of the Los Angeles Dodgers. The third man will  wear a blue cap with no emblem at all. The last man will wear a black  cap with a Nike emblem. Baseball caps, worn as the great American  pastime, worn as casual attire.

Baseball.  Another American sin. Anything that takes away from service to the  Almighty is a sin. One could do better things with the three hours spent  watching or playing a game. Watching is a greater sin than playing.  Playing could be an exercise used to benefit the body. And taking care  of the body, one of God’s greatest creations, is an important  commandment. However, other ways to exercise are far more effective and  less time-consuming.

Not  everything is what it seems. It is not a sin when one of the four men  watches a baseball game. It helps him live an American life. It enables  him to easily fit into the American mainstream. When one of these men  watches a baseball game, they do it in the service of God.

Whether  discussing baseball or beer, all four men are thoroughly knowledgeable  about their subjects. They can quote statistics, discuss the individual  players, and analyze strategies. Any one of them would have made an  excellent baseball manager, with an enviable record, likely securing  their team's spot in the playoffs and a good chance of leading them to  the World Series. No, you don’t have to be a good player to be a great  manager. However, you must be a great manager to motivate top players to  set aside their egos and work as a team. Life is full of ironies.

When  these men discuss beer, they can compare freshness, flavor, and  robustness. They know which beer has the most pungent taste, the  lightest color, and is the least filling. They even know which beer will  get you to the bathroom soonest.

Unlike  most Americans, baseball and beer are not the only subjects they can  discuss intelligently. They follow most sports, including football,  basketball, hockey, and soccer. However, they struggle with wrestling,  which they do not consider a legitimate sport, and boxing, which brings  out the animalistic nature in humans.

They  are also well-informed about current events in science, technology, the  arts, the environment, social issues, and politics. They are passionate  about politics and possess a thorough knowledge of the American  political system. They are familiar with the politicians and their  positions on key issues, particularly those affecting the Middle East.  They are familiar with the United Nations and understand the intricacies  of how that body makes decisions. They understand the political systems  of many countries, know their leaders, and are aware of their stance on  issues of interest to them.

They  know precisely where every major politician in the USA and most  European countries stands on Israel. They can have a heated, emotional  discussion about any political issue that leaves one with the impression  that they clearly understand it, without revealing their stance on the  issue. Imagine playing poker with an opponent who can read you like a  book but doesn't hint at what he's holding in his hand.

Now,  the four of them are getting together; four brilliant, well-versed,  witty, personable American men coming together to chat over a burger and  beer. Michael Anderson is one of those men.