They couldn’t agree who said what to who or when it happened so they just played Annie’s Song and The Hollies in between silly arguments about who kissed who first.
Once when they told their story to another they heard them described as “it started with a kiss” and laughed because it was the most accurate fallacy they had heard.
There was so much more too it and it extended beyond blowing a horn until the walls fell down or rings of fire.
It was all this and a million other things, most good, but some bad and others…complex.
It was a weekend in New England and it was leaving on a Jet Plane don’t know when he’ll be back again until he was, wasn’t and was again.
In short it was life or something like it.
The kids are big enough to understand and appreciate 9/11 in a way they couldn’t when they were much younger and our conversations are different.
We go through some of the usual ones and talk about who we know who was there and some of my memories of walking through some months afterwards and the posters/flyers I saw.
I tell the the not quite so little mister about how every year I think about the day and wonder about the faces in the poster.
Wonder about how many people were reunited with their loved ones and how many never came home.
I think about how it changed the world and consider how to trace the impact from then until now.
This year I find myself thinking about all of the normal and hear dad tell me we’re going to find out who did this and how quickly they’ll understand they just earned the kind of attention you don’t want.
I remember guys I knew who did tours in in Iraq and Afghanistan and consider how my son and nephew are the same age as boys who are in uniform now and roaming through foreign lands to help protect us.
Eighteen years ago I knew there would be a response and a reckoning for whomever did this and I wanted it to happen for a whole host of reasons.
I am prudent but hawkish about foreign policy.
But let’s be honest, it is a different experience when you think about how many of our boys are contemporaries of your kids and nephews/nieces.
Not just because it gives you an even deeper appreciation for their sacrifice of time and potentially life, but because you really see how young they are.
You really are reminded of youth and consider what risks they take. It is not just death, but all that trauma that can come and then follow you afterwards.
We need them and I am grateful for them, but given it all you really look upon our leadership or lack thereof in government and keep your fingers crossed.
I’ll watch videos and look pictures of the day as I always do and say a silent prayer for all of us.
Three thousand people went to bed the on September 10 never expecting it would be their final night.
Sandler is singing to Farley and I am thinking about the unwritten stories and tales of our lives.
Some start or end with a kiss and others pick up and move along in other ways and spaces.
Ya know, they resemble learning how to drive a stick.
They have moments where they are exceptionally smooth with a couple of hiccups and sometimes they leap and lurch because you can’t get that damn clutch to stop sticking.
But if you figure out how to get past that you know you are not ever going to worry because you can start uphill or downhill and never worry about traffic because you know how to deal with that too.
