2 :: September 11th, 2003 ::
Two years ago yesterday, I flew home from a trip I’d taken to San Francisco to visit Jessamyn. The next day was September 11th, and life changed irreparably for everyone.
While we were out in San Francisco, Jessamyn and I went to a party that was put on by a group of hip, warm–hearted San Franciscans. It was there that I acquired a small length of metal chain — that type of chain that is used for dog tags. I fastened it around my wrist, thinking that I would wear it for a time, but it wouldn’t take long to get lost. I would be none too heartbroken if that happened.
I’m still wearing the thing. Though the chrome has warn off and the metal is beginning to tarnish, it’s still there. I don’t even realize it’s there most of the time. But twice now — once last September 11th, and now today — I’ve taken special notice of it. The chain has become a symbol of a more innocent time, a Time Before It Happened. I look at it today and think of the distance, not only of time, but of politics and ethics and ideals, that separates us from who we once were. And I while I’m not nearly so wishful as to think that we could “get back” to that prior being, I do wonder what it will take to make us whole again.
