I usually write silly stories about my family and my writing that I hope make you laugh and entertain you. But today, I want this blog to be about remembering. We have to remember the acts of September 11th. We must remember the 3,000 people who lost their lives that day.
Those people were going to work, planning their lives. They worried about their children, their parents, will they get the promotion, will she marry me if I ask, will I be a good father when the baby comes, will I ever be a father at all? They were mothers, sisters, wives, husbands, brothers, fathers, aunts, and uncles. They were our neighbors and our friends.
They were innocent. They did nothing wrong that day. But they died for being American.
For the first time in 14 years, I thought I’d make it through this day without crying. Maybe I’m finally past it, I thought. I was wrong. I listened to a woman on the radio recount her experience on Sept. 11th and I was doing okay until she spoke about the people jumping from the tower. A man, with his tie flapping in the wind holding the hand of a woman whose skirt was riding up. She kept trying to push it back down against the force of the wind as she plummeted to the ground. She was worried about being modest in the last moments of her life.
This is the greatest country in the world. The one place, with hard work, where you can make your dreams come true, make as much money as you want, the place where you can speak your mind, and practice your beliefs. On September 11th, all that we hold dear was rattled, cracked, broken even. And it hasn’t stopped. Terrorism has still touched our soil, by monsters who believe that the very country that allows them to practice their beliefs should be stopped.
Today I say, no more.
Today I say, never forget.