Article

Got anthrax? So do I

All of a sudden my eyes started to water, my head started to pound and I felt like I was going to vomit
Maria Sanchez-Traynor - Rocky Mountain Collegian (Col. State U.)

(U-WIRE) FORT COLLINS, Colo. - Last Sunday I was on a plane headed back from New Orleans, happily enjoying my lemon cake, when, lo and behold, I discovered a powdered substance on top. All of a sudden my eyes started to water, my head started to pound and I felt like I was going to vomit. (Granted, I had been feeling that way since I had woken up that morning, but that’s beside the point). I only got over the initial scare that night when my roommates laughed their butts off at my fears and a couple of Tylenol and a glass of water made me feel much better.

My paranoia didn’t stop there, though. I came back to the Collegian Monday morning to find on my desk a printed-out copy of the previous Friday’s front page. The huge headline, at the top of the page read, “Anthrax hits Collegian.” Underneath was a picture of all the Collegian computers covered with plastic.

Once again, my stomach tightened up. I had long ago joked to my employees that if someone was going to get anthrax at CSU it would be me because they’re targeting the media. All of my teasing flashbacks flashed before my eyes and I panicked. I later found it was a mock front page created by my dear, dear employees in an attempt to pull a cruel joke on me. The photo was actually taken that weekend when the computers were covered to keep them protected while the heating vents were being cleaned.

So call me what you want. Call me paranoid. Call me a wimp. Or call me ... American.

That’s right. I’m not the only one who refuses to use coffee creamer in the morning, who shakes every envelope before I open it and who stashes a gas mask in her desk. (OK, I haven’t gone that far, but I can guarantee I’ve thought about it). I’m not the only one who thinks about going to the emergency room when I eat bad take-out food. And I’m not the only one who’s scared.

I remember as a little girl, growing up in the ‘80s Cold War, I used to draw pictures of the United States bombing Russia. I didn’t know why Russia was our enemy and I didn’t know why I was supposed to hate them, but I did, like any good American. My two biggest fears at the time were nuclear wars and volcanoes. The volcano problem, my mom told me, would be solved if I stopped watching “Joe Versus the Volcano.” As for the nuclear war, she said the president would see the planes and kill them before they even got close to our house.

What do you tell kids now? The president didn’t see the planes coming. He didn’t stop those envelopes before they were sent. How can you draw out and clearly define the enemies when you can’t even see them, and many are in the same country?

This paranoia is driving Americans up the wall. While some of us think we’ve been poisoned with powdered sugar, others watch our neighbors with a weary eye, looking for suspicious behavior. For days after the attack, we stood united, side by side with our neighbors. Now we’re afraid cards postmarked from our mothers have anthrax inside.

The truth is, it’s hard to point out who exactly our enemies are in this situation, and there is no clear way to fight them.

However, I do know this: we can’t let it break us up. They want us to fear each other, to suspect each other, to turn against our neighbors. I know we all deal with our paranoia differently, but we can’t lose sight of what we knew on Sept. 11. We are united.