After terrorism, party must go on

BY ALEXANDER GOOT

On Tues., Sept. 11, I arrived at my room in Timothy Dwight at 9:30 a.m. I hope I will be lucky enough to call what happened next the most horrifying experience of my life. While half-listening to my roommate explain the situation, I watched as two commercial airplanes crashed into and toppled one of the most significant landmarks in New York, a landmark that held over 20,000 innocent people. As a former resident of Staten Island who visited Manhattan with some frequency, I cannot even begin to express the horror and shock I felt that morning. Yet even after watching the tallest buildings on the Eastern seaboard collapse, listening to unimaginable estimates of casualties, and holding my breath as reports came in of other hijacked planes, I managed to do something truly remarkable.

DREW RUSSELL/YH Cross Campus awaits celebration.

I went to math class.

As did thousands of Yale students, I thrust aside the sickness of that morning and returned to my daily schedule within hours. If someone asked me today to justify my decision, I doubt I could. Nevertheless, when it was time to collect my books and head off, I proceeded to class automatically and without debate. I did not grieve any less, nor was I in denial about what had just happened. What I realized that morning was that even in the face of monumental tragedy and terror, I could still function as a student here at Yale. The lessons I learned on Sept. 11 were numerous and broad in scope. Somehow, multi-variable calculus found a place among them.

That I felt compelled to be a student first and foremost does not surprise me. Since I arrived at Yale a month ago, I have been pushed harder than ever to study, make friends, get involved, and manage my life. Often I get lost in the magnitude of these tasks, and it is at those times that I remind myself that hundreds of thousands of students have faced the same challenges in the very same environment. I draw strength from the knowledge that I am not alone; I am standing on the shoulders of proud Elis who came before me.

I suppose it was this, more than anything, that caused me such great frustration upon receiving President Richard Levin's, GRD '74, e-mail on Mon., Sept. 17. The e-mail stated, among other things, that some reconsideration was being given to the way in which this weekend's Tercentennial celebrations would be handled. Levin noted that "the times may not warrant some of the expressions of exuberance that we have planned." I'm glad that Levin changed his mind—I ardently believe that our exuberance should not be made yet another victim of terrorism.

According to Levin, the Tercentennial celebrations have been planned over the past two years. Although I have only been here for a month, I think Levin underestimated the time that this celebration has been in the works by about 298 years. Those of us fortunate enough to carry Yale's torch during this 300th year must remind ourselves that the Tercentennial is not simply an excuse to light fireworks, sing songs, and invite former presidents to speak. It is a celebration not of the grandiose, but of the simple way in which Yale has shaped countless individuals over the past three centuries, one day at a time. Did the unspeakable acts of a few warped individuals somehow erase all of this history? Even on Sept. 11, the so-called "second day of infamy," my schoolmates and I advanced the history of Yale a little bit further. When this weekend's Tercentennial celebrations arrive, I will march in the Convocation with my head held high. I will not feel guilty as I gaze at the bright lights of the Yale Bowl. I will be just as boisterous as ever in proclaiming a love for my school. Yale has already proven that the way of life that has persisted here for 300 years is strong enough to resist the most devastating catastrophe in our nation's history. This realization should not give us less cause to celebrate, but more. Terrorism has failed to bend our school's most precious ideals. How, then, could we allow it to mar our celebration of them?

It is now believed that the limitless futures of at least nine Yale alumni lie amongst the wreckage of the World Trade Center. It is our responsibility to make sure that their proud pasts do not suffer the same fate. 

Alexander Goot is a freshman in Timothy Dwight.

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