September 11, 2008

I have not forgotten

I first heard about the plane hitting the tower over a MUD a few of my friends were using as a chat room, while I sat at my desk in New Paris, IN, at the job I would be laid off from about four months hence. The internet was my only way to learn more, and nearly every news site was down. Free Republic was still working, though, and I was able to learn what was happening in bits and pieces through the forum as those with TVs at their disposal told those of us without.

I remember getting in my car (the old blue celica I'd gotten in trade from my dad for my tercel -- which he sold to buy a newer celica), and going to buy gas at about 10:30, mostly so I could listen to the radio, and because I feared there would be a panic later in the day.  It was one of the few times I predicted the public well.  When I went to Meijer later that night to buy shotgun shells (again, fearing panic), gas prices had jumped several dollars per gallon at most stations, and there were very long lines.

I remember watching the news.  I remember feeling really united with my fellow Americans for the first time in my life.  I remember listening to George W. Bush speak, on that day and days after, and being grateful he'd won in 2000.  I remember reading Harry Browne's essay, and being very disappointed, as he was among the first to attempt to blame America for the desperate, murderous acts of foreign criminals.  I'm pretty sure that essay cemented my break with the Libertarian Party, and helped me realize that I didn't belong there anyhow.

I remember wanting to do something about it, I remember considering (again) joining the Navy or Air Force.  I remember thinking about the thousands of strangers that died that morning, any one of which could just as easily have been me, or someone I loved.  I remember thinking about my marriage.  My first wife and I were close to separating at that point, still friends but not certain we were well-equipped to be partnered to eachother.  I wondered what my future ought to be, wondered what I should fight for, or whether I should fight at all.  I remember feeling cowardice and an urge to preserve myself at all costs.  For a moment, that day, I reconsidered nearly everything I believed.

On September 11, 2001, my country was attacked by terrorists who justified themselves by invoking a god that calls for mercy and compassion.  My countrymen were murdered by these savage, uncivil animals using a tool designed by other of my countrymen to enrich the lives of all.  They exploited our trust in the good and reasonable intentions of men to kill as many of us as they could.  In doing so, they attacked -- and thus pledged their cause against -- the very foundations of civilization itself.

I have not forgotten, and will not forget.  Barbarism lives on, even today, and it must be fought with each and every weapon and by every man and woman that civilization can bring to bear against it.

Posted by: leoncaruthers at 12:15 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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