@postaday 248; #postaday2011.
I was doing great this morning. Woke up before the alarm, slid into my jeans for Casual Aloha Friday, threw together a lunch of shrimp and salad, made my iced tea, and snuck out the door while the furgurl slinked undetected between my legs and inside, in the dark, with nary a mew of mahalo.
Grabbed the paper out of the driveway, hopped into the van and headed to town listening to @NPRnews. Of course I did, flaming hippy liberal chick that I am. And of course, it’s time for 9/11 anniversary stories that take me to the precipice of despair, despite the crisp and clear bright Hawaii morning that greeted me.
Ten years ago, when Kid2 was just three months old and Kid1 was about to turn 2, John woke me up to tell me that a jet had crashed into the World Trade Center. He was already up and getting ready for work because he was on the butt-crack of dawn staff for The Honolulu Advertiser’s morning edition. I got up, and as he drove himself to work, I updated him over the telephone on the events as they unfolded on TV, including when the second jet hit the second tower. He didn’t believe me when I told him the towers crumbled. To me, they looked as though there were explosives planted all the way down the towers. I had seen demolitions, and that’s what it looked like to me. The explosions sparked down the tower bringing it neatly down in a fashion often typical of implosions.
Since I am a journalist, I couldn’t peel myself away from the news. I had it on constantly. I was so sad, so depressed, so worried. A counselor came to visit me because I had a little baby and a toddler to care for. They needed assurance that I was doing alright and that the kids were OK, too. I was, they were, but I had to disconnect. News was my addiction, and it wasn’t easy to not know everything that was happening before the rest of the world.
We don’t get cable at home, so we don’t watch the news anymore. Instead, I get my news off the Internet with a few subscriptions such as The Honolulu Star-Advertiser, The New York Times, and other free news sites. I get enough. When something happens, I always watch Twitter. That’s where news breaks first. If I were working at a daily newspaper, I’d always watch my Twitter lists for breaking news.
So as I made my way to work today, listening to a most excellent story about the men who planned 9/11 and the clues that were overlooked by those in charge of our nation, my mood went from skipping like a stone across a pond and into its murkiness. I knew I needed to turn it off. This weekend, Kid1 will be performing in the school orchestra at a memorial event. I will be competing the morning of 9/11. My heart will be heavy, but I will tell myself that it’s best to assess the sadness, learn from it, and use it to make the world a better place.