Rise Above
This morning, I remember thinking that telling my 9/11 story would engage people in my perspective of what this day means and what it might mean for people of my “like” mind. Other people seem to have the same ideas, woke up much earlier than I did, and got their stories out early and often. The streams of people sharing where they were on 9/11 came rushing through my screen like a tidal wave of tears streaming from the faces of those mourning for their loved ones lost that fateful day. This set of cliches made my throat clench, my fingers clutch, and my eyes squint. This mix of heightened patriotism and self-aggrandizing only made me push my laptop closed. While I wanted to entertain others’ thoughts on the day, I couldn’t help but see certain peoples’ faces run swiftly through the back of my eyelids: George W. Bush’s listlessness, Dick Cheney’s aggressive sneer, Donald Rumsfeld’s egotastical smile, and terror and weariness of hundreds and thousands of armed forces, local safety agents, and citizens. Where once faces and souls held comfort that the United States would always protects its own, we saw the facade exposed for all of us to see, like going to dinner with a few people you thought were