Guilt, indulgence collide in tragedy's aftermath
by Beth Teitell

Tuesday, September 18, 2001

It felt ``wrong,'' a friend told me, to spend last Friday at the library looking for a picture of John Travolta from ``Saturday Night Fever.''

She wanted the photo for an elementary school dance invitation. The theme is disco, and the famous shot of Travolta - decked out in his white suit, one arm pointing up, the other down - would be perfect.

``But in light of what happened, how could I focus on something so trivial?'' she asked, before answering her own question:

``The dance isn't until November. I've got to assume it's going to go on.''

All around Boston people are dealing with similarly conflicting emotions.

Was it right to keep a Friday haircut appointment, a woman asked, and then to feel upset when it was canceled because of a power outage?

``I wanted to throw a tantrum,'' she said, ``but I knew I didn't even have the right to be upset. I thought about what other people were going through, and how we have to pull together for the `war effort.' ''

Another woman called me on Sept. 11, the day not only of the horrible attacks, but of her daughter's 10th birthday.

Along with her sadness about New York and Washington and the changed United States, she mentioned that her girl's birthday would ``always be on the terrible anniversary.''

Then, a moment later: ``I can't believe I even said that. Please forget I did. We're so lucky to be alive and healthy.''

Indulgence. Guilt. Indulgence. Guilt. It's a pattern repeated over and over, as we continue to react to a tragedy that was miles away - and at our own doorstep.

Was it wrong, a mother wondered, to call Party Favors in Brookline and order a bowling-themed cake for her son's party on Sept. 16?

How could she think about frosting at a time like this? she asked me. And yet, she added, how could she not?

Her house had been broken into Sept. 7 and a rug and silverware were stolen. ``I felt violated,'' she recalled. ``But now I don't feel like I have a right to feel that way.''

She paused. ``But I still do.''

She's also looking for a replacement rug, and has already been to Bloomingdale's scouting new silverware. Was that selfish, she wondered?

Would it have been somehow better if she stayed home and watched CNN?

Is it selfish to go out to dinner, and wish you'd ordered the pasta instead of the fish, when you're lucky you were out to dinner at all? To be disappointed if you see a parking spot, but don't get it? To worry about a dental appointment?

Yes, and no. That's our new world.