Ten Years After

As the anniversary of that day approaches, I struggle to find the right words to express the complex jumble of thoughts and emotions I now associate with the events of 9/11/2001.
Last year, I wrote simply and honestly about what I remember. And, yes, in doing so I was making a characteristically sardonic observation on the miserable state of un-civil discourse that paints much of American politics and the so-called news.
This year, I want to be more direct.
I want to be less cynical and, perhaps, a bit more radical.
I want to ask everyone I know to dig deep into your memories of that day and the weeks that followed and remember just exactly how you felt about other Americans, regardless of their race, religion, or politics.
Can you do that?
When I think back to that day and to the days that followed, one image rises in my consciousness more than any other. Not the moment of impact. Not the plumes of smoke filling the sky. Not even the mangled steel and rubble. It is the sky above us all, blue and cloudless. Limitless, endless blue sky, unmarked by clouds or contrails, a powerful symbol of hope and possibility.
For a while, under that sky, we Americans showed the world and ourselves that we were made of better stuff. We came together as a nation to repair and to comfort, to salvage and to rebuild. Those weeks following 9/11/2001 may well have been our finest hours, the best America we could ever be, if only because we stopped fighting amongst ourselves over petty, political differences and focused our attention on getting the right things done.
Can you remember that?
If you need a reminder, take a moment to read President Obama's Weekly Address "Coming Together a One Nation to Remember."
Now, can we come together as one nation again to get the right things done? Isn't that really the best thing we can do to honor those who died and those who served?

What I remember

I remember being not awake enough to fully grasp what I was seeing, what Matt Lauer was talking about on the Today Show as I poured my first cup of coffee.

I remember sinking onto the couch as the reality sunk in.

I remember worrying about friends in New York City on business and feeling utterly despondent over the unfathomable loss.

I remember the next few days under a pristine blue sky, unmarred by contrails.

I remember the strange silence under that sky.

I remember a few days after, walking to the convenience store/deli on the corner not far from work and telling the Middle Eastern owner and his wife how sorry I was that people had come into their business and called them horrible names.

I remember watching as liberals and conservatives, Republicans and Democrats, folks of all stripe and order, came together as Americans. We reached out to each other in charity and fellowship. We gave what we had to give, and sometimes a little more. We helped out. We practiced random acts of kindness. We set aside, for the most part, our petty differences.

Yeah, I remember that.