nine eleven.

I woke up this morning sort of half realizing it was 9/11, but not really attaching any significance to the date, despite the efforts of news commentators, journalists, radio personalities to the opposite. After all, what isn't compared to 9/11 these days? Everything we do, everything we hear seems somehow related to that date, our world post-9/11 this, and homeland security that, and so for me, the plot to draw attention to the 5th anniversary of 9/11 seemed contrived, fabricated, forced.

And so, this morning, when I tuned into the LA NPR station to get a dose of humanity before heading off to 7am Rigging class, and heard more about 9/11, it didn't affect me much. I listened to talk of 9/11 health issues, and 9/11 remembrances, and all related matter, but continued on my merry morning way, unencumbered by any kind of emotion.

At some point, Linda Wertheimer chimed in about the morning's memorial activities. It was just after 6am here, which means it was just after 9am on the east coast, the point of origin for Linda's weekday gospel. For some reason, something she said, something seemingly innocuous finally broke through to my heart, and evoked a response. She simply stated that, that morning in New York, by the time I was just rolling out of bed on the west coast here in sunny, carefree SoCal, NYC had already observed 2 moments of silence: one at the time the first plane hit the first tower, and another at the moment the second plane hit the other tower. I don't know why it struck me then, I don't even remember the details of what she said, even though I wanted to. I don't know why it didn't strike me until then. For whatever reason, hearing that small bit of information took me back to that day immediately, to all the emotions associated with that day and the days following, to all the new-found fears, to all the questions, to the desire to watch, again and again, the unbelievable images of the towers being hit, of the hopeless jumping to their deaths from the highest reaches of those crumbling buildings, to listening to the phone messages of those on doomed flights, dialing home to say "I love you" a last time, to the morbid curiosity to see a world so very different and horrific than anything I could ever imagine. Linda's words took me back to that very morning, one I remember very clearly.

Separating the event from the propaganda it seems to have become, 9/11 really is a defining moment in our lives. Everything now is pre- or post-9/11 because our world has become so very, very different. It's not about a president, it's not about a terrorist cell, it's not about a bungled war. It's about a moment in time that has shaped who we are as a nation, who we are as individuals, for better or for worse. I think it must be akin to the assassination of JFK: I remember that morning vividly, the same way your neighbor might remember first hearing about that grassy knoll. I'm sure you remember too, where you were, the images that haunted you most, when you first realized how it would change the world we live in.