Thoughts on 9/11--12 Years On.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
I was born and raised in New York City. On 9/11 I was living in Sherman Oaks, California. I was unemployed. My wife Laurie and I were sleeping. Laurie's mom called us, told us to turn on the TV. Laurie had worked in the towers, was there during the 1993 bombing. Former co-workers of hers were still there. (All lived.) So we both felt it on a personal level. I remember thinking I was somewhat relieved that my mom (born and lived her entire life in New York) had passed the year before, because I don't know if she could have comprehended the unspeakable insanity and horror. Every morning since, the first thing I do when I get up is turn on the TV. Life as we know it hasn't ended today? Good. Now I can get on with my day. I'm not posting maudlin photos today. Never forget? How would that be possible? The unspeakable horror of what the people on those planes, in those towers, must have experienced still fills my heart with rage. The fact that we have been at perpetual war since then sometimes makes me question if the real mission that day was, in fact, successful. And that angers me even more. I do not, however, acknowledge wacko conspiracy theories. Sometimes horrible things happen without anyone pulling the strings. The Evil Genius theory is weirdly more comforting to some people than the thought that horrible things can be triggered by a small number of individuals, or even one person. Attah and his followers were psychotic and evil, a death worshipping cult that was able to exploit our own naiveté and the fact that we were once too innocent to even imagine the unimaginable. We aren't now. Who can ever forget?