Remembering Sept.11

Ah, Sept.11 is a sad day, sad day, even as people turn to other things.

It's impossible to wipe away memories, even if we wanted to. Every time I pass the nearby house of one of the firefighters who died, I offer a little salute. His house, on a street near mine, always has an American and a Fire Department flag out on holidays.

And I remember, too, the day that Terry Farrell's funeral procession came past my street. Park Avenue had suddenly gotten very quiet, no traffic in either direction for a while. So I went out to see what was going on, and could see his cortege coming up the road. As it drew near, I could only cover my heart with my hand until it passed by. There seems little to do in response. I wish so much we'd figured out a way to pull together and actually accomplish something, instead of being told to go shopping.

The kids are having red-white-and-blue day at school, something of a tradition, apparently. We're new to this school, so I don't know. Seems like a good idea.

But there are other issues about 9/11 which have to be addressed, in particular the constant evocation of the date in political speeches, and the Rude Pundit reminds us of the many ways 9/11 has been abused.

And then, there are these morons.