Blessed and I know it
Over the last few years, I have generally tried to act as though this time of year on my calendar effects me no more than any other. Usually, I just forget about it.
Until I turn on the radio.
This morning proceeded just as the other 200-odd work days have proceeded. Shut off alarm. Go back to sleep. (Oversleep lately) Convince myself that, no, I have no legitimate excuse for not going to work (except for the dread part lately). Commence moving like Speedy to get to work "relatively" on time.
Then I turned on the radio.
One station was rehashing how jacked up life has become since that day.
Another station was lamenting about Osama.
On another station, a woman was telling a story about her mother. A woman who was never, ever late for work. But messed around that day and missed her bus to the Pentagon. A bus load of her co-workers were lost that day.
I turned it off. In silence, I rode.
See, I missed meeting my maker not once but twice. About a month and a half before 9-11 I started hiking it from the Staten Island Ferry to the Trade--the transfer from the local to the express to look longer if I got on the train at the ferry then it did with me walking it to the stop. Pretty much, every week day at 10 minutes to 8, I was in the building. (The incentive to be on time was the free doughnut a couple times a week from my boy Shawn at the Krispy Creme.) But a week before 9-11 I moved to DC unexpectedly for a housing consulting gig.
On September 11, 2001, I was preparing to meet a military official at the Pentagon to discuss military housing logistics. At 6:45 am, he called and canceled the meeting because of a family emergency. If the meeting was not rescheduled, one or both of us might not be here to tell the story.
As much as I wish it was just another day, it is not. For me and others--no matter how far we get from that actual date--it will not be just another day. The pain may lessen...but the same never.
Yet, here we stand, on the verge of voting into office a Bobbye twin version of the man who fueled extreme irrationality in the living rooms of so many Americans and has left the world more chaotic then he found it.
This day, will never be just another day--particularly if we all don't wake the hell up.
Until I turn on the radio.
This morning proceeded just as the other 200-odd work days have proceeded. Shut off alarm. Go back to sleep. (Oversleep lately) Convince myself that, no, I have no legitimate excuse for not going to work (except for the dread part lately). Commence moving like Speedy to get to work "relatively" on time.
Then I turned on the radio.
One station was rehashing how jacked up life has become since that day.
Another station was lamenting about Osama.
On another station, a woman was telling a story about her mother. A woman who was never, ever late for work. But messed around that day and missed her bus to the Pentagon. A bus load of her co-workers were lost that day.
I turned it off. In silence, I rode.
See, I missed meeting my maker not once but twice. About a month and a half before 9-11 I started hiking it from the Staten Island Ferry to the Trade--the transfer from the local to the express to look longer if I got on the train at the ferry then it did with me walking it to the stop. Pretty much, every week day at 10 minutes to 8, I was in the building. (The incentive to be on time was the free doughnut a couple times a week from my boy Shawn at the Krispy Creme.) But a week before 9-11 I moved to DC unexpectedly for a housing consulting gig.
On September 11, 2001, I was preparing to meet a military official at the Pentagon to discuss military housing logistics. At 6:45 am, he called and canceled the meeting because of a family emergency. If the meeting was not rescheduled, one or both of us might not be here to tell the story.
As much as I wish it was just another day, it is not. For me and others--no matter how far we get from that actual date--it will not be just another day. The pain may lessen...but the same never.
Yet, here we stand, on the verge of voting into office a Bobbye twin version of the man who fueled extreme irrationality in the living rooms of so many Americans and has left the world more chaotic then he found it.
This day, will never be just another day--particularly if we all don't wake the hell up.
posted by Jonzee @ 12:43 PM
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