© David Hartman |
I'll do none of that, thank you very much.
I know I'm in the minority here. I don't really care.
Unless I spend the days leading up to 9/11 under a rock, I have no doubt I'll know the significance of Sunday, September 11.
The local car dealer on Broadway that lowers its dozens of large flags for any remotely sad reason whatsoever surely will remind me.
The media, more adept at creating news than reporting it, won't let me forget, either. Already, this weekend's edition of "USA Today" was page after page after page after page of 9/11 filler. Nine days out. Page after page after page. What is next weekend's paper gonna be like?
Knock yourself out. But I'll pass. |
Folks are going to remember however they want to remember. But I will not give any of the still-living terrorists complicit in the events of that day the satisfaction of knowing that I dwell on what they did. I will not extend their 15 minutes of "fame" by another 5,256,000 minutes, and in doing so encourage others who would execute similar attacks on my country.
Any "remembering" I do will be internal. Externally, I will go about my business as if the day is the same as any other. We'd send a much stronger message to would-be terrorists if everyone in America would do the same. Knowing that most of my friends will disagree and that my Facebook feed will be flooded with post after post about 9/11 and what I should re-post or do if I'm a true American, I'll try to exercise uncharacteristic snark restraint next week.
But I make no promises.
I was amazed to see a group of women gathered around a display of 9/11 T-shirts at the grocery store. They were holding them up trying to figure out which ones to buy. Seriously? Why would anyone buy a T-shirt with a photo of a plane hitting the first tower on it? That's just jacked up.
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