Free Writing.

Septmber 11th. It’s my generation’s Pearl Harbor. My Kennedy Assassination, my ‘Who Shot JR?’ I remember just where I was when I found out, who told me, what everyone’s reaction was. But remembering September 11th is strange for me due to the fact that my father was still alive. The dichotomy of September 11th still seeming so recent and it feeling like my father has been gone forever feels like some kind of trick my memory is playing on me. Coming home from school early that day, I remember my father being home and not at work, and coming up from the basement saying, “Bummer, huh?” And that was almost exactly my reaction, as well. I wasn’t thinking “Oh, sweet Lord, how could this have happened? All those poor souls thrown away for no reason.” I simply thought, “Bummer.” But coming from my dad the usually innocuous word carried more weight than all the rambling prose of the newscasters and pundits who were spewing out all their self-righteous speculation and opinions as if anyone actually gave a damn what they thought anymore. So I can’t actually look back on September 11th, 2001 as wholly a tragedy, because my father was with me, and I’ll take any memory I can get.

What’s your favorite sound?

Mine is the sound of an acoustic guitar being played badly.