#292 The Ugliest Day
The question is getting a little tired: “Did you leave
The answer was “no” and the answer is STILL “no.”
But, still, it was the Ugliest Day. And the scariest. Until now.
Where’s the monument? It’s been more than half a decade since the buildings came down? And where’s the unity that flared for a mere moment afterward?
The buildings had a total of more than 200 floors. If they had been spread out on the ground, they would be bigger than many cities. When you add in the part of the pentagon that was attacked and the hijacked plane the passengers crashed in that field in
The Viet vets are fond of saying “if you weren’t there, you don’t know. You can’t know.” And that’s true of those of us in
Getting cross town about eight hours after the attack,
While our friends and neighbors and co-workers were dead or dieing a couple of miles to the south, we had escaped and now we had to fight back. And we were joined by – well, it seemed like everyone. Countries that didn’t speak to
Stuff that kept us apart – politics, religion, geography, economic status, didn’t seem to matter.
This didn’t last long. The strutting mayor had been bombed out of his 23rd floor bunker in a building near the
Almost as fast as the resolve and the unity and the alliances faded.
One thing you don’t hear about much: the WTC in its collapse began to stink. And the stink took its time working its way uptown. It was almost a week before the stink reached the upper east side. And people were wondering “what’s that stink?”
The answer: a couple of dead skyscrapers the size of
Now, it’s six years later. Our politicians and our allegiances and our religions and geographies and our economic status have resumed their rightful places.
The guy walking next to you is stupid and ugly again.
And somewhere in a cave, an absurd, tall man in robes and a wearing a scraggly beard and sitting on a pile of money that’s the size of lower
And half of us are worried about being unkind to stereotypical middle easterners, while half of us are itching to start WWIII. Or is it WWIV, but without a clue of how to go about it.
And THIS is the ugliest day. And the scariest.
I'm Wes Richards, my opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them.
(c) 2007 WJR