Tuesday, September 11, 2012
It was grainy news footage of President Kennedy from 1962 regarding the importance of The National Cultural Center, which would be renamed for him:
"I am certain that after the dust of centuries has passed over our cities, we, too, will be remembered not for victories or defeats in battle or in politics, but for our contribution to the human spirit."
And so it is after 9/11. It's no longer the rage over the unwarranted attack on civilians that moves me. It's the tremendous pride and tenderness I feel when I recall how we all pulled together to overcome it.
God bless everyone who perished, and everyone who persevered, the day Al Queda put "a black hole in the sun."
I can't sleep but I'm weary to the bone. I can't breathe. I can't think. I have a damp tissue forever embedded in my hand. I just want to lay down.
I suffer from a sore throat, a cough and more than an occasional sneeze. But no fever. So I really should just buck up and recognize that this is really not that bad. (Even though it so feels like it.)