The Obligatory 9/11 Post


Where were you when it happened?

I was lazing in bed, not feeling that great and dragging myself up late to go to work.  I ran a 7-bed group home for a mental health agency at the time.  My now-ex had gone out and gotten into her truck to drive to her work and came right back in, turning on the tv as she came to tell me that something had happened, somebody bombed the Pentagon or something.  Every tv and radio station was covering the Towers.

We sat for a horrified hour watching the Towers fall again and again, watching the planes disappear into the buildings, watching the flames bloom, the people running, the survivors wandering out of the dust in a daze.  The people in the buildings making the final decision of their lives, preferring to jump and hope for a miracle (or disoriented unconsciousness and instant death) to burning alive.  We turned to each other and said, over and over again, Nothing will ever be the same.  There will be war.

In the coming days we sat on the front porch in the evenings and marveled at the complete lack of aircraft in the air save military patrols.  The peace and quiet was oddly unsettling.  The coming weeks found me anxiously stocking my pantry, not hugely, but I just found myself buying extras of the usual stuff out of a need for some sense of security.  The future seemed so uncertain.

I had just gotten a new car and for a long time associated new car smell with disaster.

In a way nothing ever has been the same, and certainly there was war.  So many dead, so many maimed, for nothing.  I wish there was a no-warmongering section of the world to live in, like the no-smoking section of a restaurant (largely a thing of the past now, really), for those of us who think that the whole thing is stupid.  War is about control, terrorism is about control.  I want no part of it.  There must be a better way.

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