9/11/07
I really find myself, today, turned-off by the 9/11 coverage I am seeing, and could only stand the local morning-host on NPR, out of any of them, for a little while. It feels so phony, Oprah doing some grand gesture show from Madison Square Garden, and yet, I would probably be ticked if everyone did ignore it. Like everything else, we don't want people to fuss about it, but god help them if they don't. I read, or heard, something a few weeks ago, as the NYT asked if we were ready to "get over it," someone saying it's not the actual events of 9/11 they find themselves grieving — it's the lives we led before it all happened, the freedom and the obliviousness, and, probably, the not-being-in-a-constant-state-of-war-in-the-Fertile-Crescent. And so, this morning, when the first of the many "seconds of silence" to commemorate when the planes hit, and when the towers fell — when we were silent, that's what I cried over. Lame-o, but true: I cried for meeting people at the gate at airports, with surprises; and dropping people off at the gate at the airport, after many drinks at the airport bar and giggling trips through the newsstand together; taking a carry-on stashed with 1 or 2 bottles of booze (you know, some like vodka, some like rum...) on the plane with me so that when we finally got on vacation we could break our livers w/out breaking the bank on the minibar, or having Mama bring over 2 bottles of Bully Hill because she could, and we would want to drink while she was here — hell, just taking a carry-on with shampoo and lipgloss in it, so you didn't have to check baggage and find out it was in Dallas while you were waiting in Miami! And I cried because, this weekend, Mama said that she really felt like the rest of the world just didn't trust us anymore, that the feeling we had after visiting London in 2000 would never ever come to us again, as 'Americans.'
Knowing how big that is for her, it couldn't have been more heartbreaking.
There are so many more important things, of course, that have changed, for the worse, since 9/11. And to list them is pointless and redundant, since we talk about them all the time. But today... today I cried for those other moments, and it felt like being the kid who really, really believed in Santa Claus and found out in the worst way, it was never true. I felt bad for my kids, who'll never believe that airports used to be glamorous and fun, and who'll never have that abandon. They don't already.
All those things... we miss you. I miss you.
******** Seriously, like I would write that in the hed. OBVIOUSLY it's referring to the Eels' song off of "Daisies of the Galaxy." You think I'm dark lately --- yikes. It was either this or Ryan Adams' "I Taught Myself to How Grow Old" but... I gotta save that for some time when I'm PMSing pretty bad, I think.
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ETA: Holy cow. In reading this after publishing it, I realize: I completely wept for drinking freedom pre-9/11. God, I am terrible! Who was I just telling I wasn't an alcoholic??? But, seriously, folks: don't you have to drink more than once a week for that to be? I just like it when I'm with others. (Notice, it was REALLY all about the TRAVEL. Right.)
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