Reclaiming September 11

It’s the day after.

The storm, as it turned out, wasn’t too bad here. We lost power for about 16 hours and the roads were impassible. Some shingles, vinyl fences, and small trees didn’t make it through. That’s the extent of it.

As for me, my hands are raw, my shoulders ache, and my head’s probably a little sunburned. A lot of the members of our community are really good at putting up and taking down hurricane shutters.

Where I live is fairly affluent. But affluence doesn’t get you up and down a ladder in the dark trying to fit heavy sheets of fabric on misaligned screws and studs. It doesn’t get you up the ladder if you struggle with the stairs. And it doesn’t help you protect your place if you aren’t home to get the window covers up.

So the people who could, did. And we got through, as a community. Together.

We’ve lived here for about six weeks now. We’re still not unpacked. And because of the storm, and a fortuitous ladder purchase in late July at Lowe’s, I know my neighbors here better than I did in 17 years at the old house. Saturday night, I sat in the driveway of one of the guys I worked with and his wife and a couple of their neighbors and drank beer. The Halloween party should be fun this year.

I’m not saying this to show how great a guy I am. What I did wasn’t really special. What we did was.

We didn’t know that the storm would take juke inland at the last minute and save us the experience of a major hurricane. We knew people needed help and we could help. That’s just what you do.

I won’t forget what happened in 2001. Not ever. I won’t forget the fear, and the feeling that things were out of control and something really bad was starting. I won’t forget the anthrax and the shooter in Washington. I won’t forget the plane crash just outside New York City and the fear that it had happened again.  Those memories are chiseled into my soul.

But going forward, when I remember September 11, I’ll remember being sore and tired and a little sunburnt, and being part of a group of strangers who made it possible for people and their families to sleep a little better in the face of a huge, scary threat.

It make sound coarse, but screw the 19 monsters who reigned chaos that day. Screw everyone like them in both big ways and small.

They should not own this day, and neither should their actions. For me, at least, they won’t own it any more.

There are more of us than there are of them. And with deep, abiding respect to anyone who might disagree, that’s what this day should be all about.