Thursday, September 11, 2008

 

9/11 + 7

Rerun. Because I'll never forget.

--ER

Comments:
This is why I don't "get" mother-in-law jokes. This just in, from my own:

xxxxx
Dear (ER),

You were reared by a wonderful Mother, but now you belong to (Daddy Dr. ER) and me.

On 9-11-01, I was just as concerned for you as I would have been if that had been (Dr. ER) stranded on D.C.

Because God answered my selfish prayers, you were rescued. The family would be incomplete without you. You belong to us no matter what. ...

Take care. Be sweet. God bless.
Love, (Mama Dr. ER).
xxxxx


Sniff. This had the potential to be a real bad day. Mama Dr. ER just done went and nipped it in the bud!
 
I remember that walking my kid to the bus stop with all the false confidence I could muster, kissing his cheek, and telling him that everything was going to be fine when I put him on the bus. Because it's most important for kids to keep things as normal as possible.

I remember kissing my husband as he left for the airport the very first day that planes were allowed in the sky again. Because we're AMERICANS damnit, and we're not going to be chased out of OUR OWN skies.

I remember New Yorkers behaving in a disciplined, upright manner, helping their fellow man and doing the right things almost every time. Because a people can't remain free without remaining virtuous.

I remember seeing "W" on that pile of rubble with the bullhorn and thinking that maybe, just maybe the crucible was going to make a man out of him...

...well, three out of four ain't bad.
 
I've been reminded that it was within a couple of days of the planes being allowed to fly again...not the next day. Guess I remembered with my feelings rather than my brain. :-)
 
It was the jumpers.
The towers falling was bad, but it was the jumpers that chilled my soul and stoked my hatred. I want someone to pay for that, big time.
It was the jumpers that I persoanlly identified with.
 
Dr. ER's eyes get glassy when she remembers not only seeing them jump, but watching them flap their arms, trying to fly.

Mighta been Providence that kept me away from the TV during those hours and days. There is no telling what kind of mess I'd be now.
 
To call my reaction "stunned disbelief" would be an understatement. I was near shock.

The jumpers? Oh, God, the jumpers.

And no one - no one! - has really paid for this. Not the people who funded it. Not the people who orchestrated it. Not the people who cheered for it. There's a huge hole in Manhattan, a mass grave with the ashes and remains of thousands of dead innocents (not to mention a couple guilty folks, as well), and what is left of our fear and rage from that day? What honor have we paid to the dead? What debt to those whose bodies were disintegrated by heat or the crushing force of thousands of tons of rubble?

How have we repaid the world for its prayers, its well-wishes, its thoughtful outreach in any number of ways? Even the Iranians marched in the streets in a funeral procession for our slaughtered innocents. What have we done to recognize that, on that day, and for many days afterward, we had the world at our beck and call?

More than anything, it is the short-sightedness, the selfishness, and the theft of our memory and our feelings of despair and anger for narrow, political purposes that make me the most angry.
 
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?