Sober Reflections

World Trade Center towers on NYC skylineI cannot go to the gym on September 11. Six years ago I was on the treadmill watching TV when the planes hit the towers and later as they fell. An adjacent monitor was showing the movie “Top Gun” and it looked to our bewildered and horrified eyes that the military had mobilized and we were somehow at war – while we were at the gym.

So I don’t go. The gym won’t miss me and my spirit needs to not be repeating that same scenario, just in case.

This is the first year that I have not been in Boston for the anniversary. I lived there at the time and remember the rage and grief that poured from the city as we realized the planes that caused the destruction had come from our city. Many of us either knew, or were separated by one degree from someone who did know, a victim on a plane or in the towers. I lost a friend who was going to LA but who died when his plane hit.

New Haven is part of the greater NYC area and feels the ripples from the tragedy in small personal ways even more than we did in Boston. Lives were ripped apart while others celebrated family and each other with “snatched from death” clarity.

Taking the time to remember honors those who died and those who live to remember them. It’s been six years and life goes on. But the gym is not a place for me today. I think I’ll call my parents and tell them I love them.

One thought on “Sober Reflections

  1. Poignant. Nicely done.

    Today is just as sobering for me, as it was six years ago. There’s no one I know who’s life wasn’t effected by that day and it’s aftermath…even marginally so.

    Today, 9/11 is part of our lexicon. We talk about “life in a post 9/11 world”. We even refer to cataclysmic events that happen to us, friends and family as our own personal 9/11’s.

    I remember this day as it unfolded six years ago.

    As I entered the fourth hour of being glued to my set I began a desperate attempt to ry to find something/anything redeeming in a day in which true evil had been so prolific.

    I tried to find the Phoenix rising from the ashes and for a while, I thought I had. Mainly because I needed to.

    Short of stories of extreme selflessness, heroism and altruism, there was little about the day that was redemptive.

    But I found something and wrote about it on my blog.

    I’ll always remember the significance of September 11th. It will become infamous for me and will stand out just as November 22nd does.

    I see that date and I automatically think of a young, idealistic president, his lovely wife, a period in this country’s life that was innocent and so fill of promise….. then I also think about that cold, windy day in Dallas that virtually ended hope and innocence as we knew it.

    America changed on November 23, 1963.

    By noon on September 11th, 2001 it almost felt as though AMerica had died.

    Never forget to always remember.


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