Today is the sixth anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon which, at least here in America, are known as, simply, 9/11. The rest of the world uses a different date format, so 9/11 would refer to November, but that’s not where I want to go with this post.
I remember watching the the events unfold in real time on various televisions in my freshman-year residence hall and dining facilities as though it were just yesterday. Fresh off the plane from Las Vegas mere days earlier, all by myself in Hartford, Connecticut, witnessing the horrific images with a few people I barely knew, but with whom I will always share something humongously important.
And now I live in New York - which is, after all, where I was born. I moved in to my apartment in September of 2005, and have just “celebrated” the beginning of my third year here. Funny, I guess, how these anniversaries coincide. How, for me, September 11 brings to mind a sense of moving - moving away, moving in, moving on. I think ahead to next September, to what will likely be one of the biggest moves of my life, and I feel an overwhelming sense of hope for the days and months and years to come. The hardest part for me about remembering September 11 is dealing with the semi-controversial feeling that somehow, inexplicably, I am better off now.
No - we are better off now.
But as I sit here thinking back, I can’t shake another, more persistent thought. It’s callous, perhaps. Embarrassing, sure. But it feels so immediate, honest, and true.
When will Apple announce the details of the $100 store credit?
Does this mean that I’ve moved on with my life?
Or that I no longer care?