9/11

    Five years on from 2001, I still have a hard time grappling with my feelings surrounding the tragic events of September 11th.  Perhaps the most accurate way to describe them would be to say that I hate how I learned how to hate that day.

 

    The morning started out common enough with the early-morning challenges of making coffee, feeding cats and creating something for breakfast.  Eventually, the asthmatic machine wheezed out enough to fill a cup, and I turned on CNN and began to get to work writing.  

 

    Very shortly after CNN cut to the scene of Tower One belching a perverse black and burning breath above the Gotham skyline, my friend Jon called telling me that there was no possible way that what we were watching could have been an accident.  Jon is a private pilot, his wife's a commercial pilot, and considering the weather that day in New York was beautiful, I was inclined to believe him. 

 

    As he ran down the theory that what we were seeing was possibly the result of a suicidal Air Force pilot, the second plane approached and struck the second tower, and we both fell silent as the realization set in that this was now a coordinated attack, and weapons being used are the same commercial airliners his wife guides into the air any number of times on any given day.  And, when he said he had to go, again, I was inclined to believe him.  I don't even think we said goodbye to each other.  

 

    When I learned the Pentagon had been hit, I remember feeling perhaps more stunned than watching the events in New York unfold.  In August of 2000, I was in Alexandria, Virginia for a couple of months cleaning out my aunt's house after she'd lost her fight with cancer.  And, sitting here writing this today, I'd be lying if I didn't say that I am relieved somewhat to know that she was spared the horror and suffering we all witnessed that day five years ago. 

 

    

    Now, I don't want to be overly political, but tonight our President is going to speak on the anniversary of these tragic events.  I accept that it is his obligation to do so.  However, I will not watch, I will not listen, and I will not care to hear what he has to say.  The only thing I feel to match the hurt I felt that day is the shame and disgust I now feel at how this tragedy was selfishly used to mislead us all. 

 

-DP