The Day

For my parents’ generation it was December 7, 1941.  For my generation it will always be September 11, 2001.  That year it was on a Tuesday.  This year it’s a Wednesday, time marches on.  Like most of us I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing.

The tragedy of so many innocent lives lost in a single day remains incredulous.  For us survivors it has been the twelve years past that weigh on us.  As recently as the last two years, NYC firefighters had to fight in Congress to receive benefits they deserve for health care.  My brother-in-law works for FEMA and he spent months at ground zero.  To this day he can’t, he won’t talk about his experience.

That day we all became hostages to terrorism.  We have fought a twelve year war against an enemy that isn’t a state but a movement.  Killing Bin Laden didn’t have the emotional satisfaction we all anticipated.  When President Obama announced Bin Laden’s death there were impromptu demonstrations in streets with cheering, flag waving, and singing. The jubilation faded as quickly as it began. 

 For several weeks CNN and other news media flooded us with the details of the seal team’s mission.  Yet, it wasn’t satisfying.  We all knew the war goes on.  Try flying anywhere and you’re reminded that we continue to live under the anvil of terrorism.

Terrorism is based on fear, the unexpected and continuous danger.  The Provisional Irish Republication Army invented modern day terrorism.  The Provisional IRA was the first officially internationally designated terrorist organization for their unique form of warfare from 1968-1998 called The Troubles.

I don’t know if either the national psyche or our individual psyche will recover from terrorism’s threat in my lifetime.