My more formal–ahem! edited and elegiac–post about 9/11 is here on Patch. Just for you guys are all those things that don’t seem so, well, so appropriate to such a solemn occasion.
- I was trying to reach back and grab the emotions that I had that day. Mostly I remember endlessly watching TV. Do I not remember much because I was overwhelmed by the emotion, not to mention the barrage of words coming from the commentators? Or were all those memories in that part of my brain that got zapped by the ruptured cerebral aneurysm several years later? I dunno.
- I do know that in terms of sheer fear, the-world-is-coming-to-an-end terror, nothing can compare to the Cuban Missile Crisis. I was in high school and I wasn’t sure the world would last long enough for me to go to college. My best friend, Janice, would drive me home every afternoon in her father’s little VW Bug, and we would say lengthy goodbyes at my house, so afraid were we that tomorrow would be obliterated by the Russians tonight. Mostly, as I recall, we worried that we would die virgins. This seemed such a horrible fate, to miss out on whatever it was that our mothers and gym teachers were warning us against. I remember standing at my bedroom window one morning during the height of the crisis and actually praying–please, God, don’t let me die a virgin. God was good, so fortunately I didn’t have to worry about that on 9/11.
- Dooce posted her 9/11 memories, which are relevant to me only because we seem to have been living in the same neighborhood–West Hollywood. What struck me the most about her memories is that she and Jon started it with their normal 5:30 AM.weekday drive to run the Steps in Santa Monica. Holy shit. Let me separate out the vying exclamations. First, I know those steps but not biblically. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever had much more to do with them than watching eager people trudge up and down and thinking, Man, you guys are nuts. Tnen I want to say, Heather, you had the whole of the Hollywood Hills at your disposal. Why would you drive all the way to Santa Monica to exercise. Think of your carbon footprint, girl. Okay, so I don’t think carbon footprint was a part of our social vocabulary in 2001. Finally, I want to say to myself: See! she gets up at 5 A.M. and that is part of why she’s Dooce and you’re not!