Bitchin' Blog Posts
Make Art, Make Art: A Giveaway
by SB Sarah | by SB Sarah | September 11, 2008 | Thursday at 3:03 pm | 249 Comments
In quiet acknowledgment of today and the massive and painful significance of it, I’m hosting a giveaway. Leave a comment, any comment - silly, happy, thoughtful, or wiseass (we love wiseass! Or, even better, wiseacre!) - and you’ll be entered to win one of the following prizes:
An Eccolo leather journal from my favorite drool-worthy store, Ninth Moon.
A DVD of Oscar winning film Once, whose co-creator Glen Hansard was the source of the “Make Art, Make Art,” quote in the title.
A DVD of Bitchery favorite Strictly Ballroom because dancing is HAWT, yo.
Why the prize fiesta? Because we are alive and creating, and for that I am blissfully thankful.
Filed: Go Ahead, Win Some Shit
Tagged: art
Diane/Anonym2857 said on 09.12.08 at 01:17 AM • [link]
I remember Challenger.
I remember OKC.
I worked Columbine.
I watched the second plane hit and the towers fall, live on my bedroom TV. Even thousands of miles from NYC, so many were deeply affected. My boss’s brother was working construction across the river and had a bird’s eye view of the whole thing. One co-worker lost a sister in the towers and another lost four family members (sister, BIL and two kids) on the airplane in PA. Another coworker’s brother was NYFD… but he made it out, praise God. A church member lost his cousin, who was seven months pregnant at the time. And too many friends to count lived close enough to see the smoke rising for days and weeks afterward, and still see that void in the skyline from their office windows.
In the days that followed, several of us on a different board were trying to wrap our brains around what had happened. I wrote a post about grief and loss, honoring those who’ve passed on and moving forward. I also wrote one about how I wasn’t going to allow fear, grief and idiot terrorists to steal my joy in life. I wish I could read them again and see how my perspective has changed with time, but the posts have long evaporated into the ether. But I doubt my opinions have changed much.
There’s a story about Martin Luther. Someone asked him, if he knew he would die that evening, how he would spend the rest of his day. His answer was that he’d plant an apple tree. The person was intrigued, as he had expected an answer like most of us would have given: make amends with this person, tell that person I loved him, get my will in order, say goodbye to special people, etc. When asked why plant a tree, Luther said, “because that’s what I was planning to do anyway.†He already had his ducks in a row. His life was already in order; his family knew they were loved, etc. He was at peace with God and all His people, so there were no loose ends to tie up. Since he didn’t have to catch up on anything, he was free to spend his afternoon doing what he’d originally planned.
I want to be able to plant an apple tree too.
I also remember good things.
For example, I remember – barely! – the first moonwalk. I was four or so. My mom dragged me out of bed and into the living room to see it, even though I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Every time I’d nod off, she’d pinch me and say, ‘No, you need to remember this!’ And I do. In black and white glory in the darkened living room of my childhood home, I watched history.
I remember when the US hockey team beat Russia in the Olympics. And yes, I DO believe in miracles.
I remember that electrifying Superbowl when the Broncos FINALLY won it after four demoralizing defeats. (My condolences to all Packer fans, but seriously… wasn’t that one heck of a game anyway?!) Then there was the next Superbowl win, and the two Stanley Cups that by beloved Avalanche brought home. Happy Sigh.
Finally, regarding something that always makes me laugh, I have an on-going location joke with a pal of mine over a memory we share from watching the movie Raising Arizona. All I have to do is say “I’ll be taking these Huggies, and any cash you have in the drawer,†and she’ll bust into howling, bucksnort laughter. Nowadays just the word “Huggies†is enough to send her into paroxysms of mirth. Watching her try to swallow her laughter and look professional in the midst of a painfully dry business meeting is worth the price of a ticket, and the bruised ribs from her jabbing elbow, every time.
Diane
S. W. Vaughn said on 09.12.08 at 01:39 AM • [link]
Well, I’m fresh out of wise, and I already worked my ass off today. So I suppose I’ll have to choose an alternate commenting style. :-)
I remember, seven years ago today, not knowing what was going on until my mother-in-law called me, crying so hard she couldn’t even tell me what was wrong. I rushed over, she was watching the news ... we cried together all morning.
Guess that’s all I can say. I don’t have the right words.
KimberlyD said on 09.12.08 at 02:05 AM • [link]
Getting ready for Hurricane Ike and hoping no one will die. We should all die of old age.
Kristine said on 09.12.08 at 02:13 AM • [link]
What I remember most is how I was sitting in class and we saw the second plane fly into the building. That is something that I’ll never forget.
rebyj said on 09.12.08 at 02:26 AM • [link]
A quiet evening at home.
Daughter is watching some new game show on fox.
Occasionally I hear, in a deep masculine voice ...
“IT’S TIME TO FACE THE HOLE”
There are so many places to take that phrase.
re_weird said on 09.12.08 at 02:42 AM • [link]
The signal of today for me were the flags at half-mast when I went to go buy sourdough bread and a birthday card for my friend.
Melissandre said on 09.12.08 at 02:47 AM • [link]
It was an interesting day. It started when I broke up a fight between high school girls (the female is the more dangerous of the species). After school, I “bellydanced” with the other teachers in the exercise program. We may have been flailing around like drunken chickens, but our hips were getting a workout.
Erin said on 09.12.08 at 02:52 AM • [link]
I’m an art history grad student, and I spent today with museum curators and two totally awesome ethno-botanists, deciding if some carved cups in the collection were made of coconut or gourd. (They were gourds, as it turns out). I am incredibly grateful that I got to spend today (especially today) doing what I love.
Malin said on 09.12.08 at 03:02 AM • [link]
The story about Luther and the apple tree is great, but apparently only legend. :(
Because I have to say that no matter what length the Harlequin originated as, thanks to a chopping process for fit, European translations end up all the same length. I so cannot recommend them (translations) for a drop because they are frustrating to read. Especially if you’ve sampled the author’s craft in the original English and realize that 1/3 of the book is missing. Along with most of the warmth and emotion.
- And do you think we should hit Middle Easterns on the head with all those sheikh stories? *eye roll*
Michele said on 09.12.08 at 03:08 AM • [link]
Reading other people’s 9/11 story, I think I’ll share mine….
My mom called me after I got home from school (it was my second year teaching) and told me to bring my husband and come over for my birthday dinner. She was going out of her way to help me have a good day despite all the tragedy that happened. So, she and my dad cooked my favorite- spaghetti- then she asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I mentioned that my coffeemaker had just broken, so she immediately whisked me away to Kohls to get a new one. We were standing in line when President Bush spoke to the nation- the whole store stopped and gathered around the radio by the checkout counter.
Fast forward 5 years- I got a new coffeemaker, but couldn’t bring myself to throw out the other one. I ended up donating it to the robotics team at my school, mainly to counteract the long nights they have when they build their robot. After a year of working, it all of a sudden quit one day. Again, I couldn’t bear to throw it out.
One of the girls on the team decided, midway through last season, that she was tired of all the negative comments and cynicism. I suggested she do something about it. She ended up taking that coffee carafe and turning it into a “negativity jar”. Kids (and adults) that couldn’t be positive had to put a quarter in the jar. It ended up becoming a joke after awhile- people would put in $1 or $5 “just in case” as deadlines approached.
By the end of the season, we had almost $250 in the jar-including $50 in change. We decided to donate the money to a charity that provides scholarships for paraplegic and quadriplegic kids. All the money, including the carafe, was boxed up and sent to the organization. They really got a kick out of the fact that all the negativity provided something positive for a kid in need.
Still have the coffee maker (minus the glass carafe). Who knows? There might be some more good that comes from it.
Stephanie said on 09.12.08 at 03:12 AM • [link]
Today has been so-so. Apart from the inevitable sad memories of seven years ago—when the planes hit that day, I was sitting in a lab having early morning blood work done and scarcely believing what the phlebotomist was telling me about what had just happened in New York—I’ve been fighting some nasty upper respiratory thing that’s been making my ears block up for hours at a time. Not fun at all.
But . . . down the block, a film crew has decorated one of the neighboring houses for some kind of Christmas/winter scene. Roof, window shutters, lawn, and bushes are all coated with artificial snow and ice—and it looks so hushed and peaceful. I’m going to try to take it as an omen of good things to come.
Ma Squared said on 09.12.08 at 03:13 AM • [link]
After 9/11 I glued myself to CNN for days, waiting for something else to happen, I suppose. Or looking for answers. I think it was a week later when I finally forced myself away from the television set and picked up a book. It was a Medieval by Teresa Medeiros (funny that I can’t remember which one it was), and I read it in one sitting. It was the first time I’d let my mind break out of the “Ohmygodohmygod” loop and it felt damned good. God bless romance novels.
I’ve had a quiet day today, for which I’m thankful.
Brandi said on 09.12.08 at 03:15 AM • [link]
An oddball artist named Dan Lacey has been doing paintings with a pancake motif, after Oolong the bunny—different politicos with pancakes on their heads, random celebrities with pancakes on their heads…
... and he has done a 9/11 tribtue. Building 7.
Very oddball indeed.
My 9/11 story? At the apartments I was living in at the time, there was a woman with a little boy who loved monsters, and was just ASTONISHED at all the monster toys I had accumulated over time, from friends and acquaintances. He had no idea grownups might have toys too—and have so many toys that they might just give a few to a nice little boy!
I had, earlier, given him a set of beige plastic Marx model monster figures (or rather, figures based on Marx model kits), and I’d even heard he wanted to paint them (he’d seen the lead D&D;minis my husband and I paint). One figure, when I’d been given it, had been painted, and I’d been trying to clean off all the bits of paint so he could do what he liked with it. I’d gotten it finished on the 10th.
I found myself looking at the silly thing… and then going down to where his mom worked (for the property management group of the apartment), and saying “It seems so pointless… but I was going to give this to your son anyway—and I want to know that today, there was still one happy person out there.”
maria said on 09.12.08 at 03:15 AM • [link]
:) You make me smile
Becky said on 09.12.08 at 03:23 AM • [link]
I’d just had major surgery and watched the event through a Percoset haze. When the haze cleared, the bad dream didn’t. More drugs didn’t help.
Today at school (where I saw eleven classes of elementary school children), I was reminded that there is still joy in this world, as several children told me that today was their birthday, a mother’s birthday, a sister’s birthday, and two of them were born on the day that brought such tradgedy; small joys amidst a great sorrows. It was difficult to answer when one of them wanted to know why everyone is always so sad, when they are so excited. They understand the basics, I think, but feel a little forgotten, as if they are not that important on the one day that is their own. Maybe a small thing to us, but huge to them. Little things, stolen with all the big ones.
phinea said on 09.12.08 at 03:26 AM • [link]
Happy Birthday to me!! even if I dont win free shit ;-)
Carrie said on 09.12.08 at 03:29 AM • [link]
I absolutely loved Once. The movie and the soundtrack. Glen Hansard’s music just breaks my heart… in a good way.
Amy S. said on 09.12.08 at 03:33 AM • [link]
Count me in!
Megan the Librarian said on 09.12.08 at 03:44 AM • [link]
This afternoon, I looked down at my infant daughter and realized that her innocent soul had no concept of hate. In a sense, this comforted me more than much of what I’ve used to try and heal the pain in the 7 years since that day. A little ray of happiness and love helps a whole lot. :)
Paige said on 09.12.08 at 03:46 AM • [link]
Because my 17 mile run today has me too tired to make art, and watching Something’s Gotta Give has me in a romance novel-y mood, I’m commenting to win some stuff.
teacupnosaucer said on 09.12.08 at 03:48 AM • [link]
The Death of Emperor Meiji
We’re in class, pens poised over looseleaf, fingers hovering over laptop keys, eyes turned momentarily from the professor to the projection of a sleek overhead sheet she’s laid out for us. Its heading, in neutral text:
DEATH OF EMPEROR MEIJI
We scrawl and tap mechanically while the professor stands, breath bated as though momentarily frozen in time, waiting for the movement of her students to cease so that she might continue her lecture with our full attention. At long last, a hush falls over the assembly. Suddenly unfrozen, the professor looks up at the screen she stands before and folds her hands behind her back, letting out a simple, thoughtful “hm.†In our ready positions once again, we wait now for the ensuing onslaught of information, the apathetic details on why this death would be significant to Japanese history. Most of us don’t give two shits about the life or death of this puppet emperor so revered; we’re here simply to engorge our scholarly mosquito brains or, even more detached, to continue our course to academic success by way of three hours credit.
The professor narrows her eyes. “Tell me,†she begins in that condescending voice of hers, to our complete surprise breaking from her habit of diatribe to pose a question, “How many of you have ever witnessed an event that, at that very moment, you knew was history in the making?â€
A completely different kind of silence overtakes us. From the back of my mind and the usually hazy grips of memory comes the half-heard sound of a radio in another room, the cold feel of a spoon balanced in my hand, the fiercely unnatural light of my kitchen, the clock beneath the cabinet reading seven forty-eight am. My father’s TV in a dark room, my mother perched at the edge of her bed in her nightgown, face in her hands as the television flickers the same colours over and over again reflecting on her face. She is sobbing, swearing, praying for safety and for retribution all at once. I stand above her silent, tugging at the cuffs of a brand new navy shirt, overpriced. Numbers read by solemn voices rise, rise, rise, pulsing in my head like an oral thermometer under a fevered child’s tongue. Resolution not to cry, to be strong for her sake before a moment of realization that sends me hurtling, tripping down the stairs and throwing myself before the computer. A hastily typed email: “Hi. Where are you? I’m praying.†And then later, the dim cafeteria of my junior high, three hundred sets of eyes focused on a television that normally was reserved for music videos or cartoons. Utter silence. A paper airplane tossed in the hallway that swoops, spinning, to the ground, greeted by a plethora of horrified glances. In class, anger on my part at the normalness of things, the mimicry of routine. A screaming fight with a friend that ends with flight, crying openly now. A brisk walk home in the autumn air, a cup of tea in the bright kitchen, a quiet, apologetic phone call with the school secretary. Finally, a red and black instant message: “Hey. Yeah. Thanks for the email; I got a lot of them today. The skyline’s changed.†A brief sense of relief followed by a wash of sadness, another realization that this exchange will not be typical. Finally, the overwhelming comprehension that the world has changed.
“Well?†the professor prompts in annoyance. As one, her students blink back the glaze in their eyes, drawing in their awareness like a kite on a string and returning to current surroundings. There is no question as to the nature of the distraction. The professor folds her arms over her chest, tapping an impatient foot. For a moment, nobody says anything, not quite yet returned from four years ago to respond. Finally, a boy in the front raises his hand. He says what we’re all thinking tentatively, his voice fearful.
“September Eleventh.†It’s more of a question than a statement by the intonation of his voice, the way he leans forward in his seat to be more clear. It feels like everyone in the class breathes in all at once, treating his statement with reverence like some divine revelation. At the same time, the affirmation of our innermost thoughts feels intrusive.
“Yes,†the professor says, approving the answer. We all breathe out again as though we ourselves had been the ones who’d suggested the idea and waited for the professor’s affirmation of its validity. “Anything else?†she asks, surveying the confused faces of her class. We are mute, returning to the dragged up memories, each of us lost in visions of fire and crash and fall, albeit viewed through different lenses. “How about Watergate?†she prompts. The same boy in the front row replies to this, a small smile lingering on the corners of his lips.
“Most of us weren’t born when Watergate happened,†he notes with that smile making an obvious jab at the professor’s age. An uneasy chuckle ripples through the class in response to this and the professor puffs up her shoulders like an irritated cat, mouth twisted in helpless amusement at the undertones of the statement. The curtain of tension lifts somewhat.
“The death of Emperor Meiji signified, to the Japanese people, the end of an age.†Pens scrawling and laptop keys tapping, rushing to catch up, the lecture resumes its pace.
“It’s weird to drive over the bridge to Manhattan and not have them there,†said the instant message window that day. My own pen lashes across the page in barely legible script, three words behind and guided by a purely mechanical hand. Perhaps those events had signified the end of an age too.
La Reine Noire said on 09.12.08 at 03:51 AM • [link]
What a lovely idea for a day like this. Admittedly I made a point of not switching on the television at all, burying myself in a Dorothy Dunnett novel, and letting my droopy basset hound fall asleep on my lap.
But only after I finally managed to break through the writer’s block that has plagued the third chapter of my dissertation.
Carolan Ivey said on 09.12.08 at 03:55 AM • [link]
President Andrew Shepherd: You’re attracted to me, but the idea of physical intimacy is uncomfortable because you only know me as the President. But it’s not always going to be that way, and the reason I know that is there was a moment last night when you were with ME, not the President. And I know what a big step that was for you. So, Sydney, I’m in no rush. Here’s my plan. We’re going to slow down, and when you’re comfortable, that’s when it’s going to happen.
[Sydney emerges from the bathroom wearing nothing but one of his shirts]
Andrew: Perhaps I didn’t properly explain the fundamentals of the slowdown plan.
Sydney Ellen Wade: No, you explained it great.
Andrew: Are you nervous?
Sydney: No.
Andrew: Good. My nervousness exists on… several levels. Number one, and this is in no particular order, I haven’t done this in a pretty long time. Number two, uh, any expectations that you might have, given the fact that I’m… you know…
Sydney: The most powerful man in the world?
Andrew: Exactly, thank you. I think it’s important you remember that’s a political distinction that comes with the office. I mean, if, uh, Eisenhower were here instead of me, he’d be dead by now…
(Just thought I’d share a smile moment from one of my favoritest movies!)
CrankyBeach said on 09.12.08 at 03:57 AM • [link]
9/11/2001. Never forget. Never.
ev said on 09.12.08 at 04:03 AM • [link]
Phinea- if I win, you can have whatever it is!! Happy birthday!!
ev said on 09.12.08 at 04:08 AM • [link]
Hubby worked OK City. And we both did TWA Flight 800 for an entire year. Then came 9/11. We spent 92 days there. Emergency Management is what we do.
I have to admit it, I burned out.
Meag said on 09.12.08 at 04:18 AM • [link]
OOOooo the pretty items have lured me out of lurking. No wise-cracks. Not enough dt. Coke in me.
(dt. Coke = coffee to my body ... only i drink it in the afternoon and not the morning)
Rose Archer said on 09.12.08 at 04:30 AM • [link]
On this day, I’m grateful for every bad piece of writing that I’ve had to slog through in the half-dozen writing groups I’ve been in. I’ve edited smugly… only to then stop myself from making the same mistakes later in my own writing. Thank you to everyone who has shared their work with me. I hope I’ve helped. You have certainly helped me.
GirlyNerd said on 09.12.08 at 04:31 AM • [link]
The thing i remember most about that day, is that I was enormously pregnant with my first child. I had 3 days to go and the world was suddenly ending. I’ve never been so frightened and sad in my life. I sat on the break room couch at my work and cried for hours until my husband picked me up and brought me home.
The next week I went into labor, and thoughout the labor, nurses and doctors kept coming in my room to see what was going on the tv. While I was pushing even!
All that was on TV was the events of that day, and talking heads trying to figure out who would do such a thing, and people begging for information on their missing loved ones. Hormones and Sadness eventually made me shut the TV off. For Three months of my maternity leave I read books and watched nothing but Animal planet and that christian channel that plays Little House on the Prarie. Those were the only channels that were 9/11 free.
My little boy is turning 7 next week, and this morning I explained what this day ment. His question was: Why would bad guys do such a bad thing?
I had no answer.
Carrie Sessarego said on 09.12.08 at 04:32 AM • [link]
Another greedy lurker comes out of the closet ;)
Thanks to everyone whose moving messages made me teary.
Thanks to those who made me laugh!
Thanks to those who reminded me to get off the computer, hug my husband and daughter, walk the dog, and create something everyday - whether it’s an essay or a scrapbook page pr a happy memory for my daughter, or even, dare I dream…an empty dishwasher? Hey - ya gotta dream!
Silver James said on 09.12.08 at 04:34 AM • [link]
SBSarah, don’t count this one for the drawing, but I have to weigh in with weight of my years.
I remember the Berlin Wall going up….and coming down.
I remember the Cuban Missile Crisis and Khrushchev pounding on the table at the UN with his shoe.
I remember Dallas (John Kennedy assassination) and LA (Robert Kennedy assassination).
I remember all of the space race occurrences - good, bad, death and walking on the moon.
MLK’s “I Have a Dream” and his death in Memphis.
I lived a lifetime in the weeks I spent as a forensic fire photographer at the OKC bombing site. Six years later, I sat stunned in the detective bay of the police department as FDNY friends I’d worked side-by-side with in OKC died in the rubble as the towers came down. And I cried as I recognized officers my husband had served in the Army with as they stood stunned outside the Pentagon.
I can describe my wedding day, the night/morning my daughter was born, the night my father died, and the morning my mother followed him. And I can recall the afternoon four strangers in four separate cars rocked out to “We Are Family” on the radio at the same time at the same intersection.
Humans are funny animals the way we store memories as “snapshots” in our mind. I can tell you exactly what I was doing in every one of the instances above. And each of you can relate back that tiny microcosm of time stopping as history and life imprinted our minds.
Celebrate, my friends. Life is too short to do otherwise!
Jen C said on 09.12.08 at 04:40 AM • [link]
Anyone else ever get the urge to read a category romance? I have such an urge to read a Blaze- and I have a pile of unread ones three feet away from me- and yet, I am debating about reading Alison Weir’s The Wives of Henry VIII- and I just can’t choose.
Marilyn said on 09.12.08 at 04:47 AM • [link]
Honestly, the reason I read romance is because the world is a beautiful but hard place. I started reading romance seven years ago. I needed a place to go where there was a promise that things were probably going to be OK. It was respite from reality.
Zumie said on 09.12.08 at 04:50 AM • [link]
Romance is a wonderful respite from the world, and a fantastic reminder when I’m feeling cynical and pessimistic about us as humans. Because if some of us are capable of writing such great, funny, touching, and even sad stories, maybe there is hope for the species.
Virginia said on 09.12.08 at 05:17 AM • [link]
Just dropping by to say hi and hope you had a fabulous day.
Rebecca said on 09.12.08 at 05:18 AM • [link]
Each year on this anniversary, I have the same happy thought: it’s the birthday of one of my dearest friends. I choose to focus on that anniversary for her sake (it’s tough to have a birthday on a day like this). This year, I’m especially happy because she just got engaged this week. I love that “life goes on.” I am inspired by the resilience we humans show. The most devastating things can happen, but life goes on: we keep growing and changing and having birthdays and getting engaged and we don’t let these things stop us.
Claire said on 09.12.08 at 05:28 AM • [link]
three popes walk into a bar and say to the bartender:
“Boy do we have an act for YOU!”
Wryhag said on 09.12.08 at 05:51 AM • [link]
Oddly enough, since previous anniversaries of 9/11 (other than the first) run together in my mind, I felt particularly solemn today. The History channel ran an absolutely absorbing, two-hour special, sans commercials and voice-over narration, that featured amateur video taken in NYC.
Profoundly moving. Profoundly. The most peculiar part is, I started wondering why I don’t know how to go about hating the people who planned, executed, and celebrated this atrocity. And I realized it’s like trying to hate a different species, they are just that alien to me. I can’t tap into their mindset, their mores, their motives . . . none of it.
I’m not making much sense. Sorry, but this day has been weighing on me.
Lisa said on 09.12.08 at 06:01 AM • [link]
Wearing a uniform, any uniform, does not automatically make one an idiot.
No matter what anybody says.
Lucyayn said on 09.12.08 at 06:02 AM • [link]
Had lunch with friends today and heard the story of my friend who was in NYC on business on 9/11. She heard about the second plane hitting the towers while in a cab. She was stuck in the city, all alone from Tuesday to Thursday, while our corporate travel team pieced together who was in the city. she had no phone service for a long time and relied on email to communicate with family and friends. They eventually chartered a bus and my friend and a handful of others rode a cross country bus home. They left on Saturday and got home Monday afternoon. She tried to describe the mood of the city but had trouble with it.
It’s been seven years and I still cry almost every time I think about it.
I’m happy to see you’ve found a way to commemorate the day in a light yet positive way. We all could use a bit of levity on this day.
Keep up the great work on the site. I love it.
~L
Lisa said on 09.12.08 at 06:02 AM • [link]
Wearing a uniform, any uniform, does not automatically make a person an idiot.
No matter what anybody says.
AJ said on 09.12.08 at 06:17 AM • [link]
I was in 4th grade when the towers hit. I’ll never forget…
Good idea for today, though, celebrating life.
Marita said on 09.12.08 at 06:20 AM • [link]
When I was little my mom and her siblings used to talk about where she was when she heard JFK was dead. I believe it was an especially profound moment in their lives, we’re Boston Catholics, and they were so proud to have one of their own as president. They didn’t believe it had really happened until they came home and for the first time ever, saw their mother crying.
I didn’t think I’d ever have something as heartbreakingly memorable as that in my lifetime, but of course, we have. I was in college, heard it on my radio alarm clock. The DJ was upset and confused, but then she switched to a feed from CNN.
Best wishes to those who need it most today.
Diane/Anonym2857 said on 09.12.08 at 06:40 AM • [link]
~~The story about Luther and the apple tree is great, but apparently only legend. :( ~~
Well drat. If he didn’t say it, he *could* have! I guess I’ll settle for a legend. It’s a good thought-provoking story, regardless of its origination… and legends have to start from somewhere, eh?
I was watching the news tonight and was deeply touched as I watched 343 Denver Metro area firemen and women pay their respects to their brothers and sisters lost on 9-11. Each wore full firefighting gear, including hoses, axes, etc. Additionally, around their necks, each wore a badge with the name photo and fire company/station of one of the NYFD fallen. They climbed the stairs to the top of one of the tallest buildings downtown and held a memorial service on the roof. One man also carried his toddler son up the stairs with him, as a reminder to himself and others that there are scores of children who lost one or more parent that day. And they all intend to contact the families of the individuals whose name they wore and let them know that they will not be forgotten.
As the daugher of a fireman/cop, that was a visual that will stay with me.
Just to leave on a happy note, I will share with you my favorite joke, compliments of a Banana Laffy Taffy wrapper:
Why didn’t the lobsters share?
Because they’re shellfish.
::rimshot:: Ar, Ar.
Diane
recluse26 said on 09.12.08 at 06:46 AM • [link]
Sorry this is late, I’m coming out of lurkdom to thank you all for reminding me what happened today.
This morning I woke up depressed and grouchy over my life and what has happened in the past year. I’m underemployed, trying to find a job in my field, dealing with some serious anxiety problems and am about to tell the man who I thought was my life partner that I can’t be with him romantically. I’ve moved back to an area I wanted to leave, almost all my friends have left this area for bigger and better things, and feel like giving up most days on these things called my dreams because I don’t think I can achieve them. Then I remembered what happened seven years ago today, and realized that things aren’t too bad.
I have my family, a roof over my head, food, enough money to cover my expenses, and a chance to pursue what I want in this life.
I have a few friends, I have a dog that lives here who is very loving, I have forests to walk in, and it’s raining (it’s been very dry here the past two months). I have a car that runs, my health, and at least the job I have can help with some of the bills. I even have the option to remain single for the rest of my life and not be stigmatized for it, or the option to find someone else.
I have the means and privileges to get help for my problems.
There are people who don’t even have one of these, so I am a very fortunate person. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that.
So today I finished working on my resume, bought some fabric for sewing a skirt, made a lovely dinner, and ate with my parents. After this I’m going to read. Nothing eventful, but steps in the right direction and things that remind me life can be good.
My keyword: where94. Well, I was in the car with my mom in 1994 when I heard Kurt Cobain died. When Challenger blew up I was at home sick from school. When 9/11 happened I was at my apartment, doing dishes and listening to Jeff Buckley. After the CD ended, I switched over to the classical radio station and they mentioned something about a terrorist attack. Turned on the TV just when they were replaying the plane hitting the first building. Then I took the bus up to my university and watched a guy my age help an old lady find her stop and pick up an empty pop bottle from the floor. The duality of his small acts of kindness and what was going on 2000 miles away really hit me, and it’s something I still marvel at, our species capacity to do such harm and to do such good.
(There, now I will shut up.)
Anaquana said on 09.12.08 at 07:38 AM • [link]
I’m an hour and a half late, but I want to share my 9/11 story.
Seven years ago, I was a month shy of my twenty-first birthday and working in a gas station. I had the radio on and they mentioned that a plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers. The got their information screwed up because they were saying that it was a small Cessna type plane. A few minutes later they came back on and said that a second plane had crashed into the towers. They were joking and light about it, so I didn’t think it was as bad as it really was.
My first thought was “WTF? How can two people be that dumb on the same day.” I didn’t know the full story until a little later when a co-worker from a different station stopped by and filled us in. I couldn’t believe that it was happening. Then, when the plane hit the Pentagon, I remember the fear and uncertainty. I live only a couple of towns away from an air base and we’re between New York and Boston so people were scared that we might be hit next.
After work I had to go with my FIL to get a wheelchair for my grandmother that was being donated by his Masonic Lodge. I remember sitting in the car on the way to the Temple and praying that the attacks would end.
I didn’t cry that day or for a long time after, but now whenever I see or hear anything about the attacks, I tear up.
Emmy said on 09.12.08 at 08:50 AM • [link]
I don’t have a 9/11 story. I was stationed in Japan at the time, and they’re a day ahead, so it was 9/12 for us already. I got woken up at 3am with the info, which is what time it was in Japan when everything happened. I turned on CNN in time to see the second plane hit the building. I was in the military, and boy did they lock the base down *tight*.
One sad thing….overseas media doesn’t have some of the restrictions American media has. Japanese tv actually showed the people jumping out of the buildings, which is something that was never shown in America.
elianara said on 09.12.08 at 10:22 AM • [link]
No wiseass comment from me, I haven’t had my first cup of coffee yet this morning.
I was home that afternoon (it was afternoon already over here in Finland), studying with the tv open for some music. I didn’t pay much attention to the tv, so I didn’t notice directly when the music stopped and they turned to emergency news. As soon as I noticed, I yelled for my roommate to come, and we sat there for hours watching the horror before our eyes.
lizziebee said on 09.12.08 at 11:30 AM • [link]
I was in the process of planning to move to the UK 7 years ago. In fact, I had to finalise my plane ticket at the end of week after 9/11. I did go. We were 12 hours “ahead” in time, so it was happening at 8/9pm our time. I was watching Bring It On, of all things, when I was dragged upstairs (still living with my folks at that point) to be shown the tele. Hmm. I was a month shy of my 22 birthday.
eaeaea said on 09.12.08 at 01:22 PM • [link]
I remember a midnight-ish phone call (in Sydney Australia) - my best friend - telling me to switch on the TV. I watched the first tower go down on replay, and I sleepily recall the shock and dismay on the newsreaders’ face as we watched the second tower go down, live. Shocking, horrible, devastating.
I’m no wordsmith, and I can’t think of anything moving (or prize-worthy) to convey the grief and impact of that day.
So, I have to borrow some words from Alexander Dumas -
“Until the day when God shall deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is summed up in these two words - wait and hope.”
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