Don't anybody blog on Tuesday, I haven't finished reading them today! *pout*
I should not be writing this, I wanna go beddy bye.
But, many of you have talked about 9/11 so I ought to acknowledge at least one event on my blog without inviting a political debate, although I did have an interesting thought while I was washing my face this morning.
America will never be like England.
America does not have an inferiority complex. It is not a nation formed out of repeated invasion;. Rather, it is a nation formed of repeated independence from colonial powers by political, religious, and social pioneers. It has won independence from England, France, Spain, and then Mexico, in parts even Germany.
It was founded on a group that desired freedom - however much that Puritanical mindset still informs the average American citizen...what is, is.
It is founded on the the pursuit of one's dreams and the definite belief that they can be fulfilled.
It WON independence from an imperial colonial power. It was founded on the fundamentals of democracy, the first one since Athens.
It is populated by people descended from tough pioneers who spent hundreds of years forging through untamed wilderness and creating civilisation in the middle of nowhere.
Stop turning up your nose at it for having "no history" - what is a 16th century town, if not historical?
Stop expecting Americans to suddenly become Europeans.
America will never be England, and yet, Americans love you Brits so much despite your sneering and condescension, so give them a chance...
My recollection of 9/11.
I was in bed at my university, in Houston. It was about 7am and both my roommate and I were asleep. The phone rang, Vanessa picked it up and answered. She was confused and handed it up to me on the top bunk with the words, "It's your mom, she says turn on the TV."
I turn on the TV in time to see the second plane hit. From then on the day is a blur.
Classes are cancelled and wherever on campus or in the residence halls that there is a TV, it is on with a crowd gathered round. By lunchtime, the place is half empty. Houston has been designated a serious target with its oil reserves, and most of the local students have gone home to be with their families.
Dad calls me and says I should fill up my car before the gas stations get stampeded and run dry. I only have to wait for about 3 cars, but later the situation intensifies.
Other than that, things calm down relatively quickly as the rest of the nation focuses on New York City. One diversion is the Air National Guard planes that make regular sweeps over the skies of Houston and its outlying areas.
I do not remember if I went home, which is odd. The rest of the week on campus, we are rather subdued. We held a memorial service at the Chapel of St Basil. And all of us grew up a little bit. The whole world left yet another era of "innocence" behind.
Later on, we find out that three, yes three of my cousins were in the area at the time. Ironically, my cousin Sabrina who was a bank manager in the tower at the time of the 1993 bombing, left her job afterwards and moved to another bank down the road so she was certainly on hand to witness the next bombing.
My cousin Ryan, happened to be visiting one of the towers that day but was on the ground or first floors and so he got out extra quick.
But my cousin Marlon was on the 80-somethingth floor of the second tower, and disregarding everything everyone said about staying put, he grabbed his secretary's hand and immediately headed downwards. He urged his colleagues to do the same, but the time they spent gathering their belongings and being indecisive, meant that he never saw them again and lived with survivor's guilt and debilitating depression for about two years afterwards.Amazing.