Day of Reflection

I had "just another blog post" lined up for today, but then it somehow felt like I should write something about the tenth anniversary of the September 11th attacks. I wanted not to give into that impulse; I mean, it's also the birthday of two different friends, the airing of the fourth season finale of True Blood -- plenty of other "life goes on" occasions that suit me better than a "pause and reflect" attitude.

And yet, here I am, doing it. I guess I decided I did have something to say. So here it is:

My biggest takeaway might be how scared witless and irrational the experience made everybody in America. I don't mean to go far down the political viewpoints road here (though I certainly could), but I remember some of the ways I personally reacted in the days and weeks after the attacks, and they weren't rational.

For example, I was living in a rental house at the time with two other people. That afternoon -- having been sent home early from work -- we found an American flag in the front closet, and started flying it every day for weeks. We'd lived there for months, the flag had been there the entire time, and we'd never flown it. Not for Independence Day, not for nothing. And now we were -- I was -- buying into this false wave of patriotism and flying this flag, as if that was somehow doing anybody any good. Because what else could be done?

I say false patriotism, and probably run the risk of seriously pissing off a few readers. I suppose if you're such a person, you have a more genuine sense of patriotism, and won't know what I mean. I mean that for me, the sentiment was completely false. I'm not an "ask not what your country can do for you" type of guy. Never have been. To me, country is just the people I'm closest to, geographically speaking. America prides itself on being a "melting pot" of all different types, and to whatever degree there is a real national identity -- what is "an American?" -- I don't feel much connected. I'm not like what "most people" in America seem to be, I don't have much in common with them, I don't believe what they seem to believe.

So the notion that I was digging a flag out of the hall closet to buy into the sweeping wave of patriotism? That was me being scared and not knowing what else to do. Okay, on the "scared scale," that's far less an overreaction than, say, rushing off to invade multiple foreign countries (see, I told you I could start down the political road), but the point is that when really crazy shit happens, people can do some really crazy, out of character things.

So my hope here for the anniversary is to never forget. Not the events themselves, though remembering them is fine too. I hope not to forget myself whenever events conspire to make me want to lose my head, and lose myself. Not just if something horrible like that happens in the world at large, but on a personal level, in regular life. I don't mean we should all be robotic or Vulcan or whatever -- I just hope that in me, in everyone, that the brainless, animal reaction doesn't overwhelm the reasoned, thoughtful one.

I'm coming down off the soapbox now. I'll be back to the fun, fluffy movie reviews and such tomorrow.