Getting on With our Lives Fall 2001
I've thought long and hard about what to say at a time like this. I've been thinking since September 11, but I always end up with the same question: what can I possibly say?
I don't think there is anything I can offer at this point. Words fail me. I want to offer words of comfort, but they catch in my throat, and the ensuing sadness blocks my mind from writing them down. I want to offer hope, but I have none to give. I want to be indignant and angry and downright militant, but these terrible thoughts and feelings scare me, and I can't commit them to writing. I want to say something new that will give my readers something to chew on, but so many have said so much, so many who are much more eloquent than I can ever hope to be. I want to express the conclusions that I've come to that I feel to be true: that now is the time to put aside our pettiness, the bull shit of our everyday lives, and be like the strong, noble people that kept our country and our world moving during and after WWII; that up until now the great majority of us have never known true sacrifice, and we will have to call upon the depths of our beings to find the strength and intelligence to get through what lies ahead.
I have also thought long and hard about whether under these circumstances I should continue with my ramblings about all the trite things that irritate me. The truth is, I have not felt much like writing, I have not regained my sense of humor. But a little while ago I decided that if the mood struck me to complain or elucidate about an issue, I would. What else can I do? Maybe that talk about "going on with our lives" is true, maybe this is how we defeat terrorism, by doing what we like to do, by showing them they can't bring us to knees. At this point in time I am not sure what "going on with our lives" means, as the whole meaning of my life, my world in this lifetime has been irrevocably altered. |
