Site Title

I was eating a bowl of cereal, watching Good Morning America.  I usually don’t watch morning TV, but I did that morning.  I remember feeling stunned like everyone else.  And I couldn’t stop watching…none of us could.  I remember wishing they would just close everything down and send people home from work.  Derek was in meetings, but everyone was distracted, nothing was being accomplished.  I remember waking up the next morning and for that split second between sleep and wakefulness I had that feeling of "was I dreaming, or was that real?"  I couldn’t imagine waking up to it and looking at those images all over again.  I think it was Sept. 12 that was the hardest.  Reality was setting in…families and friends were searching for loved ones, stories were being aired, etc.  I’ll never forget an interview done by an ABC reporter on the street.  She talked to a young woman who was engaged to a man who worked in one of the towers.  This young lady was holding his picture and crying and frantic…looking up and down the street, as if he would just appear at any minute and she didn’t want to miss him.  I think we all knew that she probably wouldn’t find him…

I’m remembering today.  Remembering all of the stories of heroism.  Remembering all of the fear.  Remembering all of the moments that make up what is known as 9/11.

Just the other day my mom and I were flying out of Colorado Springs to come home to Dallas.  She was "randomly selected" to have her luggage searched.  The sat her in a glass enclosed room.  They put blue gloves on and hand-picked through every article of clothing, through every piece of makeup, through every pocket and compartment in her luggage.  Then they had her stand on the "shoe marks" and waved the "wand" over her twice.  Then (and this is when I’d had enough) a woman said "Ma’am, I’m going to have to touch your torso" and she proceeded to frisk her.  It was appalling for me (I was more outraged than she was).  I do understand it.  In a world that prides itself on being P.C. I can see that randomly selecting a thin, sick (with a stomach virus), 50+ year-old blonde woman would somehow make the terrorist think again before jumping on another plane with an undetectable plastic weapon.  I guess I can’t rule out the possibility that my mother is a terrorist! 

Sometimes living in a post-9/11 world makes me sad.  I long for the days when women weren’t all but strip searched at the airport.  I long for the days when I don’t get a little nervous when I fly.  I long for the days before we had "colored" alert systems.  I long for the days when I had never heard the name Osama bin Laden.  But such is life…we can’t go back.  We can’t wish it away.