Today I dressed in a very
patriotic fashion. I’m very red, white and blue. I also remembered to wear my
American Flag lapel pin. I do this because I do remember what happened 11 years
ago so very clearly. In the few years I’ve been writing this blog I’ve written
about September 11, 2001 several times. It’s just one of those things that will
always be a part of me. I do what I can to remember and if that involves
wearing something patriotic then I will do it.
I still get teary eyed thinking
about that day. All the lives lost, that would be lost following the attacks,
the years of war and terror that permeated the globe for so long. It’s hard not
to feel sad about it all. I certainly wouldn’t compare my feelings of sadness
to anyone directly affected by these tragedies. I didn’t know anyone personally
in the towers or at the Pentagon or on board any of the planes. All the guys I
knew that went to war all made it back safely too. So my sadness is tempered
with a sense of gratefulness for the losses I didn’t have to experience.
Every generation has something
tragic to mark the passage of time. The Kennedy assassinations, the Challenger
accident, the first Trade Center bombing, Columbine, 9/11, earthquakes,
hurricanes’, tornadoes, some manmade, some the result of nature, but there’s
something to mark the time when we were one thing and in a few hours were
changed forever into something new. When we looked in the mirror our reflection
was a little different, perhaps more serious; perhaps with a sense of the
fragility of our lives and of our time.
I complain about the tragedy of my
life all the time but I like to think I do so with a sense of respect for those
that have persevered and passed before me. I think that I complain because I
know that they struggled to give me the opportunity to have the right to
complain. I know that if they had imagined me, they would want more for me, for
everyone. No life should be spent in a small cubicle being harped at my little
Napoleons and Isabella’s. That seems to cheapen the blood spilled over the
annuls of history.
Some days are harder than others,
but today is especially hard for a lot of Americans. We went from a country
about to focus on its domestic policies to one focused on kicking ass. American’s
like kicking ass, we’re pretty damn good at it. I’m not saying that all
American’s are war mongers but we do seem to enjoy a good fight. American soldiers
are volunteers. There is no draft anymore. Our troops are men and women that put
their lives on hold and dedicated themselves to the defense of their country.
So citizens feel connected to them in an intangible way. We love them and do
what we can to honor their sacrifice. There has been a lot of sacrifice.
11 years later and I still
sometimes cringe when an airplane echoes overhead. The fear and vulnerability
that day exposed is still with me. The bravery and courage and fortitude showed
on that day by so many Americans still makes my chest swell and prideful tears
tempt the corners of my eyes. The further we move into the future from that
September day doesn’t dilute what I feel. What we all must feel. It’s only the
generations after us that will have trouble connecting to it. The children born
after 9/11/01 will not be able to grasp the significance of that day; much like
I’ll never be able to fully grasp the emotions of 12/07/1941 and Pearl Harbor,
or 11/22/1963 and JFK’s assassination. They were all hard days.
I can only hope the hard days get
less as the world matures and hard days fade into hard memories.
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