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I remembered yesterday, too.
Sep. 11th, 2006 04:38 pmI went back and forth about posting where I was, what I was doing five years ago today. I can't remember if I've ever done it before, and I'm too half-assed right now to check.
Posting about it is a way to remember, to get down those details, those small, bitter epiphanies before they disappear, and I'm glad so many people have done that. I'm the first one to hold onto memories. I hoard them like treasure.
But when it comes to today, I don't think I need to. Five years later, it's still as clear to me as it was then. As clear as I need it to be, anyway. My mother called, I turned on the TV. I watched, and watched, and cried, and absently soothed the four-year-old who didn't understand why Mommy was upset. I made futile attempts to call friends and coworkers. I reached some of them. I worried, I shouted, I sobbed. My city. My friends. My country. And more -- my world. This wasn't the world I signed up for.
I lost a good friend that day. A boy Stephen grew up with. My best friend's brother. A man who had finally found his way and his place, had married and had a child, and had another on the way.
Five years later, that's still the same. Five years later, the city is still scarred. Humanity is scarred, because we do this kind of thing, and more. Awful things, violent, destructive things, and usually in the name of someone's god.
I remembered what happened that day last week. And last year. I don't think about it every day, but when I do, I take time to honor what I knew and loved of Jim. I'm not surprised that the media has decided to mark the anniversary with overkill, for lack of a better word, because I think too many people out there are used to waiting for cues now. For the voice over the loudspeaker to tell them where to sign up, when to get in line, which monitor to watch. To process memories into manageable bytes (savable to your hard drive or iPod!), to present it neatly wrapped, with decent titles and a soundtrack. In a lot of ways, that's sadder than almost anything else.
Posting about it is a way to remember, to get down those details, those small, bitter epiphanies before they disappear, and I'm glad so many people have done that. I'm the first one to hold onto memories. I hoard them like treasure.
But when it comes to today, I don't think I need to. Five years later, it's still as clear to me as it was then. As clear as I need it to be, anyway. My mother called, I turned on the TV. I watched, and watched, and cried, and absently soothed the four-year-old who didn't understand why Mommy was upset. I made futile attempts to call friends and coworkers. I reached some of them. I worried, I shouted, I sobbed. My city. My friends. My country. And more -- my world. This wasn't the world I signed up for.
I lost a good friend that day. A boy Stephen grew up with. My best friend's brother. A man who had finally found his way and his place, had married and had a child, and had another on the way.
Five years later, that's still the same. Five years later, the city is still scarred. Humanity is scarred, because we do this kind of thing, and more. Awful things, violent, destructive things, and usually in the name of someone's god.
I remembered what happened that day last week. And last year. I don't think about it every day, but when I do, I take time to honor what I knew and loved of Jim. I'm not surprised that the media has decided to mark the anniversary with overkill, for lack of a better word, because I think too many people out there are used to waiting for cues now. For the voice over the loudspeaker to tell them where to sign up, when to get in line, which monitor to watch. To process memories into manageable bytes (savable to your hard drive or iPod!), to present it neatly wrapped, with decent titles and a soundtrack. In a lot of ways, that's sadder than almost anything else.
