Friday, September 9, 2011

Back Off, America

Ten years ago, we were still living in New York. Stacy worked at the World Trade Center. She was there on 9/11. She got out okay. We were lucky - no one close to us died. We had friends who weren't so lucky. 

Over the years, America at large seemed content to move on, and that was fine with us. Each bitter anniversary was a private time to remember. We didn't need hoopla.

But now America, with its fondness for round numbers, has glommed onto the tenth anniversary. It seems like every group of more than three people is holding an event to mark the day, and any politician who can get to a microphone has something to say. It's bugging me, but I've got a short fuse, so I asked Stacy, because she skews angelic. Well, it's bugging her, too. We both feel like something intensely personal is being taken away from us. I think I'm getting my first tase of cultural appropriation from the losing side, and I don't like it at all.

By all means, America, remember 9/11. Remember New York, remember D.C., remember the plane crews and passengers, remember the troops who served in the wars that followed. But don't you dare tell me what it felt like, and what it all means.





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