the speakeasy at yeah write #74 is open
I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality… I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word. -Martin Luther King, Jr.
The speakeasy is place to meet with friends and share stories. Some days, though, require a good wallow. If you’d like to share your thoughts or memories of the September 11 attacks, feel free to do just that in comments.
Hi guys!
I’m not sure if my post is okay here, but I uploaded it anyway. Just remove it if you feel it’s not a good fit, since it is about a child… just not my child.
Your call.
I just tweeted that today is Tuesday September 11, and it is supposed to be 75 and sunny in NYC. I’m on my way to bed. I won’t be in my dorm room tomorrow. I won’t be stuck in my texts and context lit class watching students trickle out, so they can check on their families and friends who are there… It will still, however be Tuesday and sunny.
I still can’t really read about 9/11, even 11 years later. I watched the towers burn from the top of a building I was working in across the river in New Jersey. For me, it’s still too soon.
I was driving to an appt. about 30 minutes away. Turned on the radio to hear of the plane into the Pentagon. Then heard about the plane into the Twin Towers. It was so surreal, I called my friend. She said — yes in fact it was real — she was watching it on television. She also said her husband had taken off at 9 that morning for Las Vegas and she had no idea where he was. Then we started hearing reports that more planes were involved. It was terrifying and unbelievable.
I don’t write about it, and I rarely comment about it. I was too close to the actual occurrence, and I’m tired of so many people claiming what happened without wanting to hear about the gore that people escaping the towers pre-collapse had to step over and see. And that’s why I don’t talk about it; everyone deserves their own method of mourning, and I get angry at myself for being angry at others and their reactions. It’s an ugly convoluted circle.
And I mostly hate that my country used the event as an excuse to create more destruction on the civilians of other countries. As if our loss of life means more than the loss of others.
See? That’s why I don’t talk about it.