I recently heard someone say that for the generation before mine, the defining moment was the Kennedy assassination, just as the defining moment for the generation before them was the attack on Pearl Harbor. If that's the case, then the defining moment for my generation has to be 9/11. And I'm pissed about it.

For the generation before us, the catchphrase for the presidential assassination was "Where were you when Kennedy was shot?" Everyone seemed to remember. The answer to that question seemed to be more than just a bid to gether interesting trivia, it was an effort to learn from others' experiences in an attempt to relate to other people and gain some solace in the sharing of the horror. In that vein, I'll tell you where I was during September 11th, 2001.

I had been hired to shoot a movie for TONY ALIZZI and MSR Studios, so I was at my computer in my downstairs office (which is now my husband CVK's office) going through my daily routine of checking my favorite websites when the phone rang. It was my friend BOOMASTER.

"Is your TV on?!" he said, excitedly.

"No, why?"

"The World Trade Center is gone!" he shrieked.

Now, being the Hollywood media baby that I am, my mind immediately flashed to a scene from THE PINK PANTHER STRIKES AGAIN, where former-Chief-Inspector-turned-mad-scientist Dreyfus had acquired a disintegration beam which he demonstrated to the world by zapping the UN building into nothingness. The World Trade Center was gone???

"What??" I asked Boomaster. "What do you mean? How could it be gone?"

"Someone flew two jets into the towers! They're destroyed! Turn on your TV!" he yelled.

I said I would and hung up, then went into the family room and switched on my television. I don't know which iof the networks the satellite was turned to, but the first image that appeared was the broken towers, vomitting dark grey smoke. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Destruction of that magnitude just didn't seem real. It was like a special effect from a movie. And perhaps that's why it didn't really effect me.

That's right. I feel odd admitting this, but when I saw the damaged towers, the smoke, the shakey camera coverage, it didn't really faze me. I'm not sure why. Maybe years of horror movies had desensitized me. Maybe I just wasn't comprehending the full meaning of what I was seeing. Maybe I'm just shallow and insenstive (although I don't really buy that one). No one was talking "terrorist attacks" yet, although 2 planes flying into the towers couldn't be a mere accident. So, the carnage before me didn't really fill me with anything other than a strange fascination.

So I got my equipment together and left for work.

The shoot was in an old movie theater which had been converted into a studio space. The film was HOMO ERECTUS, and when I arrived (fifteen minutes late), p.a.s were putting the finishing touches on the jungle set, and a backdrop for the newscaster was being lit. By then, everyone was talking "terrorist" on the radio, and I just wondered what was going to eventually come from all of this. I saw TONY ALIZZI, and asked him if BOOMASTER had shown up yet (Tony needed some extra hands, so he asked me to find him a p.a.) He said a tall blonde guy had been there asking for me, but no one knew who he was, and Tony asked him to leave, so he did. I told Tony that I had hired Boomaster to help p.a., at his request, and he looked at me blankly, then shrugged and said they had enough p.a.s anyway. I asked him if he had given Boo any money, and Tony asked why he should have.

"Well, I said, "he took the day off work to come here and work for you. Don't you think you should have given him some compensation?"

"I didn't know he took the day off work," Tony said.

"At the very least, you should have offered to give him some gas money for driving out here and back."

Tony just walked away from me.

I set up my equipment, trying not to stare at MSR's new find, JOEY RUSSO, who had been "broken in" on the sets of their previous films, the all-oral double feature BLOW ME parts 1 & 2. He was only going by the name JOEY at that time and was wandering the stage wearing only the lionskin loin cloth, which I thought looked damned good on him. When Tony had told me about the idea for this film, I had suggested BRADY MARTIN from AT LARGE for the jungle man, as I thought he had that hot "cave man" look to him, but Tony had struck gold with Joey, too.

Tony called everyone together right before we shot. "I know that the events of this morning have us all shaken," he said. I looked around the room, and everyone except Tony seemed about as upset as I was. "What does it take to faze us, anymore?" I thought. Or maybe they were hiding it well. "But I think we have to forge ahead and put on the best faces we can," he continued. "It will work out."

I don't remember much else about the rest of that day, only that by the end when more information was out, I still didn't feel effected by the tragedy. And I wouldn't for a few months.

Now, several months BEFORE this, there was a show I loved to watch called Murder in Small Town X. It was a whodunit reality show where 12 contestants had to solve a series of murders and risk being "murdered" themselves in the process. Each week, the killer would eliminate one contestant (both figuratively AND literally) untill there were only 2 left. One of the two remaining contestants was a NY firefight named Angel. Angel ended up winning the $250,000 prize not by deliberately picking the murderer from the townsfolk, but by ACCIDENTLY picking the murderer. His opponent got first choice and chose the wrong guy, and Angel, by default, got the correct one. Angel was one of the genuinely nice people on the show, and I was happy for him.

I think you know where this is leading, or perhaps you heard it yourself: after winning the contest, Angel decided to keep his job as a firefighter and on 9/11, was one the brave souls who rushed into the towers trying to help people escape, when the towers collapsed. He was killed.

That is when the whole tragedy really hit me. I felt like someone had dumped a load of bricks on my heart, and I actually began to cry. Not just for Angel, but for eveyone...and for the country.

Why did it take so long? Why did it take the death of a unknown everyman on an obscure TV show to make the devastation finally get to me? Perhaps it was because the tragedy was so huge in scope that I couldn't relate to it. Not, that is, until a human face was put on it. The face of a good-looking brave fireman. A good soul.

It's five years later, and the world has changed. Not for the better. The tragedy of 9/11 is now a political game of Bombardment used by both sides to hurl at the other. And while each side claims victories, points accusing fingers and justifies questionable actions, I can't help but keep thinking about Angel and how he and his friends, co-workers and fellow emergency personnel risked and gave their lives for one important cause: to help others.

THAT is what I try to take from 9/11. THAT is what I feel is the defining moment of my generation.

Peace.

JBK