wallowing in the melodrama

It’s September 11th. I had no intention of writing some big melodramatic missive – as a nation, we’ve got to move on. I expected to go about my day like any other day, just like I did on September 11th last year. However, I found myself contemplative. I found myself strangely uneasy. Intellectually, I understand that the modus operandi of these terrorists is not to strike in relation to a particular date, but when they are ready. There is no reason for anything else to happen on THIS September 11th. Still, I kept close to the TV and radio, and when the day ended here, I breathed a sigh of relief, only to remember the day is only beginning elsewhere.

I worked in Washington DC on September 11th, 2001. My daughter was at school, just like any day. My husband was already living here in Japan. After the attacks, the schools shut down at noon. The city was locked up; there was no way I could get to her by noon. My daughter had no idea where I was. I was the last parent to get to the school, and I could see the relief on her face when I finally ran through the doors. I took her home. Knowing he would be worried, I called my dad and cried that I didn’t know where my friends were and if they were OK. Then, I did one of the most difficult things I have ever done – I left my daughter in the house alone, told the neighbors she was there and to keep an eye out for her, and went back downtown. I felt so guilty, but I had no choice. I did not dare take her with me. It was taking forever. I was driving my husband’s beat up old car; it had no first gear. A friend was staying with me, while she got her life together, and she was driving mine. She was working up at Fort Meade. I didn’t see her for four days. I finally got across the South Capitol Street Bridge, but could go no farther. I ended up parking the car on shoulder of 395 and running the rest of the way. I didn’t know if I’d ever see it again. The police were too busy with more important things to tow it. 19 hours later it was still there, and I went home to wash and change and prepare food for my daughter. I lost seven friends. As international calls were not making it into the DC area, my husband had no idea if we were alright. He later said he wasnt worried; he knew we were OK.

Here in the USA it’s hard to pretend that it’s another day, even the local news was wall-to-wall coverage of the memorials and retrospectives of two years ago. It was one of those events that you always remember where you were when you heard, all the details are still pretty clear. We will never be the same again, some innocence is lost. Tom-

I’m trying to avoid the news and media as much as possible today. It makes me so emotional, but it seems unfair, disresptful even, for me to shed tears and get all worked up for one day, and then go back to my own life the very next day. For me nothing has changed. But for others nothing has been the same since two years ago. I don’t feel I have the right to take part in their grief.

Ryn; And cow tipings.

You don’t remember Puckers? The simple shot? Watermelon, sour apple, etc.? Island blue is better, kicks you in the ass when you aren’t expecting it.

I have nothing to say, just wanted you to know I was here and read.

So glad to know that you WERE ok, but sorry to read that you lost your friends.