Remembering 9/11.

I don’t have a whole lot to say about the day myself, but Momma wrote a poem about it that I think says all that needs be said.

6 thoughts on “Remembering 9/11.

  1. almost everything I have to say is:

    here and here.

    I have a strange perspective as I am a NY’er and was supposed to be on the top floors of the North tower that morning, but something happened that delayed me and I did not get to the appointment in time, called ahead and cancelled it…

    I still have mixed emotions of that day, and those that followed, so I will leave it at the above.

  2. For me, it was once again a proof that an Omniscient, Omnipotent Being was not runing things, here. How much of a nudge would it have taken for Omnipotent to have one of the planes miss the tower? If there is a “God” who permits this crap to happen, then I don’t think I want to spend eternity with that kind of creep. It was, however, once again proof that ordinary men and women have unlimited capacity to be charitable and heroic. Bravo for the humans, Boo for the “Gods”.

  3. Anyone who didn’t cry on that day either has a personal plumbing problem or is not a participating member of the human race. angry

  4. I don’t know if there’s something wrong with me but I didn’t cry that day – I was too angry.  Not just at the terrorists but also at our own long record of supporting various monsters for their proported anticommunist properties.  I knew this had to be one of them coming back to bite us in the ass.

    Weeks later I was walking down the street on a beautiful day with the Beatles’ “We can work it out” playing in my head, and looked around at the buildings and had a vivid moment of imagination of explosions and destruction, and doomed people running.  I just ducked into a doorway and sobbed.

  5. Like DOF, I didn’t shed a tear for a while after. The first couple of days I was still numb, happy that my close friends and family were ok. Glad a bird shat on my suit …

    Then about a week or so later I realized I could/should have died that day. I knew it when it happened, but the realization didn’t sink in until I returned to my old office on Exchange Place, around the corner from the Stock Exchange. I sat on what we called the “smoking section” essentially a concrete fire escape that had a view of the WTC site, still smoldering and you could smell that smell for weeks. I lost it for about an hour. I was the only one in the office and I just lost it. Anger, guilt, sorrow, hatred, fear, uncertanty; all intermingled in an emotional stew that finally bubbled over.

    Anyone who didn’t cry on that day either has a personal plumbing problem or is not a participating member of the human race.

    So I guess I am human after all … to the disbelief of many who know me …

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