Google Images: http://icemandel.tripod.com
I’ve heard that each generation has that single day in which they will never forget where they were, what they were doing and how it changed their lives. Unfortunately, I have three days. You see, when politicians slam each other for having a “September 10th” mindset, though it disgusts me for using the memory of 9/11 for political gain, it does ring home with me.
On September 10th, I came home had an argument with a close friend, played a little football to clear my mind, watched Ed McCaffery break his leg on Monday Night Football (Broncos v. Giants) and looked at my roommates new birthday tattoo. My dream of being the next Coach Bobby Knight were still in tack. Life was great then. I went to sleep as if it Tuesday would just be another day.
On September 11th, I woke up (late) only to hear of startling news out of New York. My entire family was still there; sister worked in that area and so did my aunt for that matter. Sadly, so did two childhood friends of mine. Everyone I knew made it home except for one person.
On September 12th, Hope sprang as news that a man was identified (alive) with my friend’s name but later as twisted irony would have it that there were two men with the same name; the one that made it wasn’t my friend.
Distraught, I realized that something was terribly wrong with the world because just yesterday things seemed perfect. Anger consumed me, I wanted to go rip some heads off and sh*t down some necks. Rationality asked me “if once those responsible were caught, would the cycle of an eye for an eye ever stop? Or would one side have to be eradicated?” Ah, I figured it out! Foreign policy would be needed in conjunction with brute force to insure that future generations wouldn’t have to go through this again.
So, I vowed until I came to affect policy, I would entrust my political representatives to make the decisions necessary to begin the process of healing and vindictive retribution. But, instead we went down the wrong path. We got caught up in trying to police a riot and forgot that we just came for a bar fight. Distracted from the mission at hand, we have now plunged into a vat of political feces; no bottom to be seen, too far down to climb back out.
It’s more than the fact that we have yet to (publicly) find those responsible. More than the fact that my countrymen still have no memorial site built.
It’s that there’s no end to the mess we’re in because for too long we’ve been taken for a ride; trusting that we’re been taken in the right direction. Now, 7 years later, and I have yet to taste the metaphorical air of September 12th. Some like GOP Republican Darrell Issa have moved past 9/11; as have most. But I can’t because we’re no closer to giving me what I crave the most; closure. My friend’s death is still not rectified. The scars from the attack on my family, my city, my country, my lifestyle, my values and my beliefs still have not healed.
Politicians for too long have used 9/11 for their benefit and received our trust; only to deliver no answers or solutions.
So as this year’s election draws closer, when schmucks like Rudy Guilianni try to use the memory of 9/11 for political gain we should flip them the bird. Stop using the memory of 9/11 to justify bad policies and failed initiatives. Stop using it to attempt to show foreign policy competency. Stop using it to expand government power. Stop using it to abuse the privacy and civil rights of American citizens. Stop using it to mask discrimination, hate, biases and xenophobia. Start using it to promote much needed changes to American policy and practices.
I don’t want to constantly remember the pain of 9/11 and what it’s done to me. I want to remember how right things seemed on September 10th and think of how right September 12th could be if they stop pushing our heads deeper into the vat as we try to escape the nightmare.
September 18, 2008 at 10:57 am
hi i just learn about your subjet as you write back