September 11th

There isn't much to say that hasn't already been said, or is being said today. I suppose remembrance of such a day is personal when it comes down to it. I was thinking earlier that it's incredible that nine years have already gone by...and what has changed..?? Intolerance and hatred are just as rampant, if not more so--in no small part thanks to that wacko in Florida. The poor ignorants in Afghanistan haven't been told the book burning was called off, so they're still shouting death to Americans. Our illustrious politicians can't run our country because they're too busy running off at the mouth at each other.

So, I took a few minutes to think this morning, about the actual day, nine years ago. I have only a few memories that immediately stand out.

-- A friend of mine called me, late in the afternoon (Edinburgh time). I was thrilled to hear from home, but all he said was, "Turn on CNN." Puzzled, I did. I looked at the screen of the first tower burning, then said, confused, "What am I looking at..?" Before he could answer, as we were both looking at the television, though 6,000 miles apart, the second tower was hit. I remember the dead silence, the humming through the telephone wire. In horror, I whispered, "What am I looking at..?" He said, "I don't know."

-- I wanted to go home. I felt such an urgency to get back to America, though I was suddenly, for the first time in my life, terrified to fly. Still. My country was under seige of some kind and I needed to be home. I was distraught when I heard all flights were grounded. I didn't know when I could go home. There were no planes in the skies over America. It was the most unnerving, sick feeling I can ever remember having. I couldn't go home.

-- After a few days, Alan said, "Let's get away from the television and the news and head north into the Highlands." I knew he was trying to spare me, get me away from the endless BBC and CNN reporting, and my anxiety about not knowing when I could get back to the States. We packed some overnight gear and headed out. There was to be two minutes of silence at 11:00am that morning, so as we drove up the motorway, I asked Alan to pull over when the time got close. I thought we would be alone, sitting along the road, but at 11:00am, every car, lorry, and vehicle on the motorway pulled over and stopped. There wasn't a soul driving on the road. For two minutes, on a sunny morning in September, we all sat there and remembered, mourned and respected. I was proud that day. Not because I was an American, not because the Scots were honoring the tragedy, but because we were all human beings in that moment. Decent, caring people who stopped along a highway in solidarity of an incomprehensible event.

-- We stayed away for over a week, then the day after our return--when I knew they were allowing flights again--I went into town to the British Air office. I told the guy behind the counter I wanted a ticket to the States as soon as possible. He asked me if there was a reason for my haste. I told him, around the large lump in my throat, that I needed to go home. He looked at me for a long moment, nodded his head, then booked me onto a flight for the next morning at the cheapest rate I have ever flown. I came home for a few months, then went back to Scotland to get on with my life. I'll never forget that guy, or his complete understanding.

I wish we lived in a world of peace and love, acceptance and tolerance. We don't. And no doubt, we never will. Can anyone explain to me why we won't..?? Why we allow evil to prevail when there is so much good in the world..?? I despair sometimes, but then something will lift my spirits a bit, like that day along the motorway, or the BA guy, or a smile from a total stranger. I guess all we can do is carry on, hope for the best...and smile back at that stranger.

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