bunt sign

Wednesday, September 12, 2001

Welcome to the world after September 11, 2001. This will forever be a dividing mark on history's time line, one of the dates children of future generations will learn in their history classes. It was a different world we woke up to this morning.

And what did I do on this first day of the new era? I spent an hour this afternoon babbling away to a reporter for the local paper. She was here to interview me about this journal, and about journaling in general, but we also talked about what everyone is talking about, what we all can't stop talking about. In fact, now that I think about it, she's the first person I've talked to face-to-face since the tragedy of yesterday.

Overall, we had a pleasant conversation where I got to talk about myself a lot. I told her how I got started reading journals, and later writing one. Her questions were similar to the ones I asked myself in last Wednesday's entry, so I was prepared. But I tend to talk without really thinking, once I get going, so I might have said more than I needed to. Oh, well. I don't have any secrets anyway. Otherwise, why would I even be writing online?

Actually, I tried to think of everything I possibly could related to the act of journaling, from the sources of inspiration to the mechanics of posting and the navigation that makes the site work. I'd been determined to keep the conversation in that vein, but I probably made it more about me than I thought I would. To be honest, I'm not sure what I said. I guess I'll find out when she writes her article.

Then tonight, with all the professional playing fields across the country dark and empty, I found a little diversion watching my nephew play softball. Eric's team was in the championship playoff for its league, and I rode down to Novato with John and Suzanne to watch him play. Naturally, we talked about the hijackings and the aftermath all the way down and all the way back. There's no escape from it, at least not yet.

It was strange, sitting there in the chilled, damp air on those metal bleachers, watching that game. I have to say that I was almost able to forget, for a few moments here and there, that the world had changed. It seemed a bit obscene to be there while on the other side of the country rescue workers were still clawing through the wreckage of buildings that stand no more.

And yet, it was necessary. It doesn't lessen the shock and the grief, but it distracts us from the intensity of it all, for awhile. That's what lets us keep going and face the way the world is going to be from now on.

oak tree

The old oak shows no sign of fall. Not yet, anyway.

Every night the last thing I do before shutting down the computer is open up a new text file with the next day's date at the top. Then I'm ready the next morning to make any notes for that day's entry. Last night when I wrote 09.12.2001, it looked strange. It's an act of hope to believe there's even going to be a tomorrow. But look, here it is, come and gone. We're still here to remember yesterday, and mourn those who didn't make it to today. The world continues to turn, even after the day that changed it.

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Latest recommendations:

Kymm, Sweet as a Biscuit, entry for September 11

Michael, Baker Street, September 11, The Day It All Changed

Wendy, The Dragon's Lair, September 11, Toward the End of the Day

Other recent recommendations can be found on the links page.
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