- I have glanced around the blogosphere this morning, and I am struck by the number of people who aren’t writing about 9/11 today. I mean, it makes sense, really. We’re five years on, and people have talked it out over and over until, I’m sure, they’re exhausted. But for some of us who were there, or very close, the wound is still raw. I honestly thought it might just be me, until I talked to a woman at a party this weekend. She worked for FOX News in Manhattan when the attacks took place, and we shared stories of panicking at mysterious smells in our office buildings and feeling earthquakes that aren’t there.
- Since 9/11, I’ve developed asthma and an intermittent burning sensation in my chest that worsens with stress. Yes, the latter has been checked by a doctor, and no, they couldn’t find anything wrong with me. Of course, I also moved to Los Angeles in the intervening period, so who knows which of the two events had more to do with it.
- I am officially sick and tired of the “terrorists hate freedom” rhetoric. That’s ridiculous. Regardless of how one feels about their actions, Islamist terrorists hate U.S. foreign policy. It is insulting our intelligence to pretend otherwise.
- I find it strange that my clearest memory of 9/11 and the following days is this: I walked out of my Brooklyn building into the clear morning, looked up into the brilliant blue sky, and thought, “What a beautiful day.” Then, on the other side of my parking lot, I saw a woman from the telephone company standing by her truck and crying hysterically. Her radio was turned up loud. I was so concerned for her that I didn’t process what the radio was saying. When I ran over and asked what was wrong, she just pointed behind me. I turned around and saw the sky filling with smoke. I have many (awful) memories of the following minutes, hours, and days, but nothing is so vivid as that first moment.
- Damn, I’m weepy today.