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5 years ago I was walking toward my office from where I park and noticed a group of construction workers gathered around a pickup truck, listening intently to the radio, one of them looked like he was crying. A little further on, I saw another group of people gathered around another vehicle, listening to the radio. I remember wondering what was going on, and thinking it must be serious, and hurrying to my office so I could turn on the radio myself and listen.
And we all know what was going on. At least part of it. We will never know everything. We'll never know the full truth, though all the lies.
I remember days of unexpected quiet-- I had never realized how accustomed I had become to the sound of planes flying overhead until they were gone.
I remember frustration, anger, and fear. I remember how insulted I felt at being told that duct tape and plastic sheeting would save my life. (The old joke about the 'duck and cover' drills we did when I was a kid-- "curl up under your desk, put your head between your knees, and kiss your ass goodbye" seemed grimly appropriate.) And cynically, every year when the anniversary rolls around, I think about how many politicians have made and continue to make make political hay off the tragedy of others. I know we humans have a tendency to excessively commemorate things even without political motives, but it just feels like so many people are doing so either to make a buck, or to make points, not out of any purer motivation.
For myself, these days when I think of 9/11 mostly I remember the bravery of the people who tried to help, who worked in that toxic soup doing search and rescue, and search and recovery, who helped remove that unimaginable pile of tragedy, and those who lost their lives or their health in doing so. I hope this country eventually recognizes and does something substantive to help those whose health was ruined working in the remains of the WTC.
The thing that bothers me the most, I think, is how it feels to me that my country has squandered the goodwill of the world that was so evident after 9/11. That is the saddest legacy of all. The world offered us a helping hand, and we slapped them in the face.
And we all know what was going on. At least part of it. We will never know everything. We'll never know the full truth, though all the lies.
I remember days of unexpected quiet-- I had never realized how accustomed I had become to the sound of planes flying overhead until they were gone.
I remember frustration, anger, and fear. I remember how insulted I felt at being told that duct tape and plastic sheeting would save my life. (The old joke about the 'duck and cover' drills we did when I was a kid-- "curl up under your desk, put your head between your knees, and kiss your ass goodbye" seemed grimly appropriate.) And cynically, every year when the anniversary rolls around, I think about how many politicians have made and continue to make make political hay off the tragedy of others. I know we humans have a tendency to excessively commemorate things even without political motives, but it just feels like so many people are doing so either to make a buck, or to make points, not out of any purer motivation.
For myself, these days when I think of 9/11 mostly I remember the bravery of the people who tried to help, who worked in that toxic soup doing search and rescue, and search and recovery, who helped remove that unimaginable pile of tragedy, and those who lost their lives or their health in doing so. I hope this country eventually recognizes and does something substantive to help those whose health was ruined working in the remains of the WTC.
The thing that bothers me the most, I think, is how it feels to me that my country has squandered the goodwill of the world that was so evident after 9/11. That is the saddest legacy of all. The world offered us a helping hand, and we slapped them in the face.
