I actually had a real 9/11 entry in mind for today. I made notes and everything, but then I realized that it didnít measure up to the enormity of the event, or the thousands of lives lost, or the thousands more who risked their own lives on that day, trying to save others. It would have been another political rant, of the type Iíve pretty much given up writing, not because I donít feel as passionately, and not because Iíve given up, but because Iíve said it all so many times. And if Iím going to say it again, I might as well wait until closer to election day.
But I did want to mark the occasion, if only to give myself an excuse to reread what Iíd written in the past. Five years ago, on the day itself, I described my own reaction, and my hopes and fears for the future. I tried to put into perspective the effects of the attacks (and thatís what we called them for a while, until they became simply ď9/11Ē) on different levels of society, near and far. Iím sorry to say that some of my worst fears have come to pass. But some havenít, so I can take some comfort in that.
Four years ago, I went to a baseball game, and I tried to explain why I thought that was an appropriate way to commemorate the first anniversary. It feels a bit odd, after four years, that I thought it necessary to justify how I remembered, but I think the fact that I did remember, in common cause with so many others, gives it meaning. And I never pass up a chance to draw the parallel between baseball and life.
On the second anniversary three years ago, I lamented the way my government had responded, and I also bemoaned the fact that so many of my fellow Americans believed the government, both what they told us and what they did. Mostly I was saddened by the missed opportunity to make a better world.
Two years ago, I wrote about changing a light bulb.