Patriot
Sarah's Recall of the Day reminds her that her fears of park rides are well-founded: amusement park ride.
For some reason I've been looking up things pertaining to September 11. Now, I know that I get into my odd little fascinations and happily nerd out on them for a while - but I've never been been quite this driven to look up this particular subject.
Besides, why would I want to experience it twice?
I am a history buff - this much is obvious (or is it? I haven't been posting about my nerdery lately. I'll have to remedy that). This, however, just doesn't feel like history. I was there.
I was 19.
I remember hearing the second tower falling on the radio. I remember the empty butcher shop with no TV or radio and our (few) customers being our only connection with the outside world. I remember the man that came in to buy a pound of ground beef whose brother and sister-in-law had just gone to NYC to visit. His hands shook as I gave him his change. I remember the silence - oh, all of that horrible silence everywhere. I remember local news talking about how Chicago might be the next target and what we, an hour or so away, should do in order to prepare. I remember seeing lines of cars at the gas stations that stretched well down the street and empty shelves of water at the grocery store. I remember wanting to do something - anything - to make it all better and settling on going back to work and resuming life as usual as we had been told to do. I remember feeling the oneness with my country for the first time and the shock when other countries actually did come to our aid. I remember welling up a bit when Canada, our brother to the North, jumped right in to help us the very same day.
I remember acknowledging the fact that the unity that everyone was talking about would end - and, of course, it did. I did not anticipate it being such a volatile reaction, however. I remember watching the war effort concurrently souring and being lauded. I hid from it. The politics were too much for me at a time where I was trying to absorb all of it. I grit my teeth and kept going on, working and being educated, as we were told we should in the days that followed the attack.
I grew weary of hearing of the War and the stark difference between the opinions of my parents and my peers. I became socially aware adult in my own way; I grew jaded and bored with government and talking heads and other peoples' analyzes. I was distanced, indifferent, and very alienated. I didn't belong in this social and political culture. My life hadn't gotten any better; why should I depend on any politician to make a difference? I gave up.
...and I continued to stay the course. I worked hard to make myself the best citizen I could be. I was employed. I went to school to improve my future socioeconomic status and to grab my own little bit of the American Dream. I was a Patriot.
...but, in reality, am I? Am I really a Good American? This actually bothers me quite a bit. Do I appreciate living where I do as much as I should?
I didn't realistically participate in the last presidential election - but do we not also have the freedom to not vote as we choose?
I dislike politics and simply do not see the point in most interactions between heads of state and nation - but is that not how third parties are spawned? Is that not how the Whigs split off into, among other parties, Republicans - which, in turn, spawned Democrats?
Setting aside my health issues I am far too afraid to be in the military - but I respect our soldiers more than anyone else in the world and say this openly when I meet one. Is respect and awe not supporting my troops?
I'm 28 and still not a productive citizen - but am I not striving to get there?
My ideas on our brand of democracy and how our government works are a bit different than those of my peers - but is freedom of speech not a right?
Maybe using modern benchmarks isn't the best way to measure patriotism.
As a colonist I would've looked out at the land and imagined ways to make a good life.
I would've tilled the soil and protected the harvest from rat infestations in order to feed my family and my community.
I would have mended and washed clothing to keep my family - or anyone else, for that matter - warm through harsh winters.
I would've opened my home to soldiers fighting for the Colonies' rights and tended to them.
...and, had a Redcoat stalked down my street, harassed my neighbors, or come into my house, I would've hidden the children, grabbed my husband's gun, and shot him down in an effort to keep my family and friends safe and free.
If that doesn't make me a Patriot - a Good American - then I guess I'll never know what does.
This is the day in which I became an American adult.
Sarah
For some reason I've been looking up things pertaining to September 11. Now, I know that I get into my odd little fascinations and happily nerd out on them for a while - but I've never been been quite this driven to look up this particular subject.
Besides, why would I want to experience it twice?
I am a history buff - this much is obvious (or is it? I haven't been posting about my nerdery lately. I'll have to remedy that). This, however, just doesn't feel like history. I was there.
I was 19.
I remember hearing the second tower falling on the radio. I remember the empty butcher shop with no TV or radio and our (few) customers being our only connection with the outside world. I remember the man that came in to buy a pound of ground beef whose brother and sister-in-law had just gone to NYC to visit. His hands shook as I gave him his change. I remember the silence - oh, all of that horrible silence everywhere. I remember local news talking about how Chicago might be the next target and what we, an hour or so away, should do in order to prepare. I remember seeing lines of cars at the gas stations that stretched well down the street and empty shelves of water at the grocery store. I remember wanting to do something - anything - to make it all better and settling on going back to work and resuming life as usual as we had been told to do. I remember feeling the oneness with my country for the first time and the shock when other countries actually did come to our aid. I remember welling up a bit when Canada, our brother to the North, jumped right in to help us the very same day.
I remember acknowledging the fact that the unity that everyone was talking about would end - and, of course, it did. I did not anticipate it being such a volatile reaction, however. I remember watching the war effort concurrently souring and being lauded. I hid from it. The politics were too much for me at a time where I was trying to absorb all of it. I grit my teeth and kept going on, working and being educated, as we were told we should in the days that followed the attack.
I grew weary of hearing of the War and the stark difference between the opinions of my parents and my peers. I became socially aware adult in my own way; I grew jaded and bored with government and talking heads and other peoples' analyzes. I was distanced, indifferent, and very alienated. I didn't belong in this social and political culture. My life hadn't gotten any better; why should I depend on any politician to make a difference? I gave up.
...and I continued to stay the course. I worked hard to make myself the best citizen I could be. I was employed. I went to school to improve my future socioeconomic status and to grab my own little bit of the American Dream. I was a Patriot.
...but, in reality, am I? Am I really a Good American? This actually bothers me quite a bit. Do I appreciate living where I do as much as I should?
I didn't realistically participate in the last presidential election - but do we not also have the freedom to not vote as we choose?
I dislike politics and simply do not see the point in most interactions between heads of state and nation - but is that not how third parties are spawned? Is that not how the Whigs split off into, among other parties, Republicans - which, in turn, spawned Democrats?
Setting aside my health issues I am far too afraid to be in the military - but I respect our soldiers more than anyone else in the world and say this openly when I meet one. Is respect and awe not supporting my troops?
I'm 28 and still not a productive citizen - but am I not striving to get there?
My ideas on our brand of democracy and how our government works are a bit different than those of my peers - but is freedom of speech not a right?
Maybe using modern benchmarks isn't the best way to measure patriotism.
As a colonist I would've looked out at the land and imagined ways to make a good life.
I would've tilled the soil and protected the harvest from rat infestations in order to feed my family and my community.
I would have mended and washed clothing to keep my family - or anyone else, for that matter - warm through harsh winters.
I would've opened my home to soldiers fighting for the Colonies' rights and tended to them.
...and, had a Redcoat stalked down my street, harassed my neighbors, or come into my house, I would've hidden the children, grabbed my husband's gun, and shot him down in an effort to keep my family and friends safe and free.
If that doesn't make me a Patriot - a Good American - then I guess I'll never know what does.
Click to viewThis is the day in which I became an American adult.
Sarah