I can’t write anything meaningful about this anniversary.  I don’t have the skill nor do I have the ability to distance myself from the things I know about that day that I cannot share.  It’s impossible to separate the two.   

Last year I wrote about how this day beat us.  I wrote that we traded our country that day for today’s police state.  That we gave up what made this country unique in the name of fear.  Nothing in the last 365 days has changed my mind about that.  

The day it happened was an odd juxtaposition.  I had just gotten back from a trip to Vegas with a group of very pretty friends, one of whom would eventually become my wife.  I was newly single and still basking in the afterglow of a fun and emotionally exciting trip.  We didn’t have cable yet at the office so we huddled around a television that was barely able to display a recognizable picture of the event.  The entire time I kept thinking “I was just in Vegas.  I was just having the time of my life.”  A personal way of saying “I’m not here, this isn’t happening” I suppose.

A couple years after the event, a local writer wrote what I believe is a very personal and moving essay.  It’s well worth your time to read it: http://www.lileks.com/bleats/archive/03/0903/091103.html

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