Sunday, September 11, 2011

It's 9/11 and I don't want to write a 9/11 post.  So this is my not writing a 9/11, 9/11 post. 

I'm done with 9/11.  It's overwhelming.  It's depressing.  It's not interesting, just sad.  Sad in a global humanity way.  It's an event you can't ignore and yet can't make sense of.  It's an event without words. 

9/11 is a strange sort of thing in my life.  It was there, large and real and frightening and heart stopping.  And yet, 10 years later, it is still something I can't put the right words around.

9/11 changed everything and nothing.  At least that's kind of how it seems to me.

Now, I'm not political.  I know nothing there.  I'm not much of a history gal either, but my quick Google search brought me what I thought I knew to be true.

I've just turned 40.  America has been in some sort of conflict or war situation for close to half my life.

I wasn't 10 or 20 when 9/11 happened, so it wasn't something that shaped and flavored my world.  I was 30 when 9/11 happened.  I had literally turned 30 just 4 days before.  My world had already been flavored and colored.

By 30, I was already firmly what I like to call realistically optimistic.  I'm guessing to you that looks a lot like pessimism and cynicism.  My world is not one without joy.  I have smile and laugh wrinkles to prove it. My world is eyes wide open.  I expect the unexpected.  I plan for the worst possible outcomes and then when something better happens, what a delight!  I am aware of the world and it's people and how they behave.  I grind my teeth while I sleep as proof of the knowing.

9/11 has not made me more or less distrustful of people.  It hasn't made me afraid to live or travel or be.  It's almost like war and conflict are a part of my normal.  They're a big deal but they aren't because they've almost always been there. 

When I look back through a history time line and line it up with my life time line, I think well it stands to reason, even though I don't intentionally stay politically on top of things, it's a part of my life.

According to the history timeline, Vietnam didn't end until I was 4.  Even now, this seems surreal to me, like I'm doubting this timeline and thinking, I was born into war?  Knowing my dad is a Vet of that war, means that there had to be a piece of that flavoring our lives even if I was unaware in those baby years.

Grenada in 83.  I don't remember much, because I was caught up in my own teenage dramas then.  Being 13 was intense enough.  But again, it was happening and so it was touching my world, my life.

Panama in 89.  It was my Senior year of high school, the start of my college days. 

Close behind in 1990 was the Persian Gulf War.  I was in college and it was very real.  It was in the back ground of our college fun and the what if's and fears and worries were there.

In 92, I got married and started a working life.

1995.  Bosnia.

1998.  Little Mr. was born.


2001.  Afghanistan. 

2002.  Littlest Mr. was born.

2003.  Iraq.

We're still at it.  It's all still going on.  I had a little blip there in life between 4 and 13 where conflicts and wars weren't common, but then it became a thing that was and is a sort of, "Oh, what's next?" 

Since I've been 13, there has been an constant pattern of these things.  This is my normal.  9/11 shook us all.  But in a way, it was just a piece of the timeline.

Tick, tick, tick.  '83, '89, '90-91.  Tick, tick, tick.  '95-96, 9/11, 2001.  Tick-tock.  2003.