I really was not going to post anything in remembrance of 9/11. Really. Not that I don't remember, or care, it is just that sometimes looking inward, you make greater understandings of things unknown.
All the drivel I write matters nada to those who were lost. Even those who killed. Someone had them. Some mother/father cried. Even if infected by a religious nutcase propaganda, someone cared. Even if they ranted and raved about his 90 virgins in Khartoum, or wherever the fuck they spiel that hate will get them, they still, died.
The focus of that day was the reality of hate; hate so deep, so mass-produced, that a gaggle of doofus' killed for it. Killed people of our country. They killed out of what? Hate. They tried to kill more than 50,000 people, who were suppose to be there.
Ah, but the hate, it fucked up. Hate does that, you know. Hate couldn't plan for a bunch of men and women, who are not military, to be there for those attacked. Those attacked by that faceless hate.
The military, they'd come later.
So a bunch of men and women, who daily face the trials and tribulations of this nation; some small, some innocent, some bloody, some hot. They went and did what they get paid for.
Helping.
Not hating.
So I hate the mindset that sent nomads to kill my brothers and sisters, along with the brothers and sisters of this great country.
So remember, remember that they came to help.
I truly believe that is the greatest gift we can honor them with.
*****
On 9/11, I was asleep.
The time difference made it something like 345 or so in the AM.
Our bedroom phone rang.
A firefighter friend of mine said the titles words into the phone.
2 seconds later, the phone rang again.
My sister-in-law, on the mainland at the time, said turn on the TV.
My work shift at the firehouse started in less than 5 hours.
In the following moments, I had no idea what to think.
I still don't.
I watched.
I listened.
With my brain on overload, and my heart in my throat.
Digesting the carnage, the absolute hate.
I watched.
I hugged.
And I went to work.
* **** ***
You be good.
Maile's 15 tomorrow.
Damn keeeds!
Smother 'em with pure.......
A L O H A.
1 comment:
We got that phone call from my wife's sister in Vermont. I was getting up early that day for an outpatient surgery (toenail removal). Dottie took the day off to drive me. We saw what was going on and didn't know whether to do or not, but did. We got there, the doctor put me in the chair and gave me 4 shots to numb everything, then his cell phone rang. His wife was on the phone; their children were at their private Jewish school which was being closed and the children sent home, and they were trying to figure out which of them could leave work to go pick them up...it ended up being her. Consequences I had never even dreamt of, especially here in the "Midwest"!
alan
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