Just after Christmas in 1985, terrorists struck the airports in Rome and Vienna, killing 19 people and injuring almost 150. The targets were El Al, the airline of Israel, and U.S. airline TWA. An organization called Abu Nidal later claimed responsibility and said the attacks were in retaliation for the Israeli bombing of the Palestine Liberation Organization’s headquarters. At the time I was planning my first trip to Europe. The bombings gave me pause: should I cancel or should I go? I went. During that summer of 1986, the cities I visited were empty of tourists and full of military men wielding large weapons. But I had a great time, and I didn’t let extremists keep me from seeing the Roman Coliseum or the Eiffel Tower. This is the spirit, I think, that most people still hold onto today, in a time where the threats have grown in number, though many have receded into dark, shadowy netherworlds where they create secret plots to maximize fear and grief.
Europe has always been a ripe target for terrorists, whether from internal strife (Northern Ireland chafing under English rule), homegrown fury (Basque terrorist organizations in Spain) and more recently, groups like extreme Islamists hiding in Germany. Here in the United States, we had a bitter taste of domestic terrorism with the 1995 bombing of the federal building in Oklahoma City. Timothy McVeigh, a sympathizer of the American militia movement, loaded up his truck bomb and killed 168 people, including 19 children in the building’s day care center. I was working in television news back then and can never forget the heartbreaking images of the victims coming over the live feeds. The one most devastating to me, perhaps because Molly was about the same age at the time, was the photo of a firefighter cradling tiny Baylee Almon in his arms. She later died from her injuries. Most difficult to absorb was the idea that an American could cause such horror to his fellow citizens, especially children. Then 9/11 happened and any kind of thought system was suspended in disbelief.
I am revisiting this history not to be morbid, but because the dangers of the modern world are very much on my mind these days with Katie in France for junior semester abroad. Bomb threats evacuated the Eiffel Tower twice in September, and the country is currently on high terror alert because of warnings of an imminent attack from Al Qaeda. When you send your child off on this kind of adventure, you want it to be genuine and you want it to be memorable, but this is not exactly what we had in mind. Katie uses the Metro, the Paris underground, every day. And next week, she and all the other foreign exchange students will be on fall break, which means they will be traveling around the country.
Of course, it’s Murphy’s Law, or perhaps, in this case, Pierre’s, that in addition to terrorism, there is yet another issue to worry a parent an ocean away. French President Nicholas Sarkozy, squeezed by the nation’s rising life expectancies, skyrocketing pension costs, and a growing budget deficit (sound familiar?) is raising the minimum retirement age from 60 to 62. This is a radical move in a country where people consider time off almost holy. It is always easier to give than to take away.
In the United States, with most people retiring at 65, 62 would be considered a blessing; in France, for people used to receiving government pensions at 60, working two more years is a curse. So the government is angering older people. It is also angering the young. Katie told me that students are joining the protests because if older people have to work longer, their jobs will not be open at the other end of the work spectrum With unemployment already sky high students and others are in a dark mood. Katie said she discussed the issue with her host mother, who believes that as difficult as it is, raising the retirement age is absolutely necessary given the tattered state of the French economy.
So protesters are taking their anger to the streets, most notably by blocking access to gas stations. Because they cannot refuel, airlines are cutting their flights, and people are lining up at the pumps –– reminiscent of the 1970s gas shortages here at home –– and some stations are reporting they’re running dry. There are also reports of angry protesters turning cars over. Why do I care about this? Because Katie and a friend are planning to rent a car next week and drive to the Loire Valley to explore the chateaux of the kings. It sounds marvelous, and normally it would be. I can’t help being a worried mother and imagining them running out of gas and having to ditch their car, or worse, getting caught by an angry mob flipping their car over. I have to calm my overactive imagination and think that their trip will be just like mine in 1986. While armed soldiers and angry mobs may be part of their experience, it will be safe; it has to be.
I have lived with the firm belief that you can’t let fear rule your actions. But it’s a little different when it’s your baby going into the lion’s den, isn’t it? Danger is a part of life, and you don’t have to travel abroad to face it. I’m thinking of Rutgers football player Eric LeGrand, injured in a horrific play in last weekend’s game against Army, who at this writing is still paralyzed from the neck down.
My prayers are with him and his family for a full recovery. I am sending positive, healing thoughts, especially to Eric and his mother. I also include the anxious parents out there as I wish safety and Godspeed to their children discovering themselves and chasing their dreams in this great, wonderful, and often dangerous world.
