It was a perfect day.
Perfect. Flawless. The sun was out, but the clouds were out, so it wasn’t too hot. The air smelled good, with just a hint of the autumn that was just starting to approach. It was probably the most beautiful weather we’d had in Washington, like ever. It really was. I find that painfully ironic.
I first heard the news from a delivery man standing next to me at J’s deli just at my office. J’s was routinely my second stop, where I purchased a juice and a banana after purchasing my carrot muffin at the Au Bon Pan. The man told Jay, did you hear? A plane just hit the World Trade Center.
I still assumed it would be a normal day. Soon, though, they were reporting about the Pentagon. They were also reporting that The Mall was on fire and that car bombs were detonating all over town. It was horrifying to latch onto the realization that you, at that singular moment, are potential collateral damage in World War III.
Some masochistic opinion leaders (coughglennbeck) would have us be nostalgic for that. He’s begun what he calls the “9-12” movement. He says he wants to regain the sense of unity the country embraced. You know what else we embraced? Fear. Shit-your-pants, clutch the dashboard white-knuckled kind of fear. And, yes, we did rally around our President. It was the sensible, respectful thing to do at the time.
Now, it’s clear today that President Gorge Dubya Boosh got caught with his waistband around his ankles on September Eleventh. You want dots? I got three of them: Sandy Berger, who specifically told Condo Rice during the transition: “You’re going to spend more time during your four years on terrorism generally and al-Qaida specifically than any issue”; Richard Clarke; and the Presidential Daily Briefing of Aug. 6, 2001. The Boosh legacy is that of a President caught with his pants down on September Eleventh who spent the rest of his miserable eight years trying desperately to cover up.
Is that worth your nostalgia? O RLY?
The idea that we should somehow look back on that day, on that month, on that year, on that event at all and feel misty and long for any of it is just masochistic. It is sick. It is perverse. Those weren’t the good old days. THOSE DAYS SUCKED. They were tragic and horrifying. I wouldn’t wish them on anyone.
“Conservatives” do not own September Eleventh, though they behave as if they have it trademarked and incorporated and under lock and key. Hoping it to further serve a fringe political movement that paints the President of these Untied States as a fascist?