My husband is in the next room watching all the 9/11 stuff on TV. There is a choir singing "Amazing Grace" at the Pentagon. Dignitaries have gathered. V.P. Joe Biden is there, looking old but quite trim and with a full head of hair. Wolf Blitzer intones: "184 people died, including 24 victims from the plane that crashed into the building." Benches have been built, one for each victim. It's hot there, as many spectators are fanning themselves with papers, and it's only early morning.People at the podium are now talking about what happened to them that day ten years ago. Sacrifices were made. The names of the dead are streaming across the bottom of the screen. A little girl whose mother died that day just said, "Mom, you will always be my hero." Children are crying. There is maudlin violin music playing.
Over in NYC at Ground Zero (which it will forever be called), James Taylor is singing at the site of the downed towers, which is now a big hole in the ground with water flowing into it. Survivors are reading the names of the dead, complete with their middle names so it will take quite a while. "The reading of the names, so simple and so emotional," says the TV reporter helpfully.
Now some ordinary citizen is describing what happened to her that day. I saw her on another TV interview yesterday telling the same story: She says her life was changed forever that day. She refused to get angry and sit around moping and "just take it." Instead she baked cookies with her two daughters and brought them to the local firehouse. She did something. I think I may have eaten some cookies on 9/11, but I didn't bake any. I basically sat around watching TV all day. Now I feel like a fool.
Wolf Blitzer says: "It was a seminal moment. No one will ever forget." So don't even try.
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