Thursday, September 11, 2008

That Day

I don't know how to post something today without reflecting on this day seven years ago. Like all of you, I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when the terrible news began to flood through. Like most of you, I suppose, I was at work. So it was not until I was able to get home and see on television the sheer terror of it all that it began to sink in. Thousands upon thousands of times the screen would show the towers falling. The faces of stunned New Yorkers, frightened newscasters and the unimaginable bravery of those trying to save the few survivors will never go away. I remember seeing the images, too, of other countries around the world who immediatley began to lay flowers and American flags at our embassies. It seemed so strange. We Americans are the ones who are supposed to be there in their time of need. We are the ones that usually come to the rescue and offer relief. We are the ones who are supposed to be stronger than the rest. We are supposed to be the ones who escape the vulnerability when other countries do not... But how could anyone, anywhere ever imagine what this would be? Our strength, instead, comes from each other and from our resolve to never forget.

God bless America. My home sweet home.

4 comments:

Merle Sneed said...

And our resolve to go on, no matter what.

Mr. Poopie said...

Wow, can't believe that it's been that long. I've been talking with some people at work about this and one lady is dead set that this was all a conspiracy and that our government planned it. That's a tough pill for me to swallow. I want to believe that we were attacked, I want to believe that such evil to our own could not be conceived. Otherwise, we are no different than those we wage war against. Dear Mr. President, indeed (great song btw).

amy said...

Merle: Amen.

Mr. Poopie: Oh, my... I don't know what else to say other than that... Thanks on the song. I've listened to it repeatedly today. I wonder if DMP has ever heard it?

Reenie said...

Nice, Amy.

My eldest son was born on 12/7 - all the grandparents murmured about the date. I knew the importance of 12/7, but my son’s birth was more important. :) Now, I often think that 9/11 is my generation’s (and younger ones) 12/7. I now understand.