I looked up at the calendar resting in my SuSE box tray (oooh shinny!) and it occurred to me that today is a weird one. To the majority of America today represents 7 years since the WTC/Pentagon terrorist attacks. To me this day represents my Fathers birthday.
I wonder if my Dad will be forever plauged or if it will turn into a generational thing. Will my children know that his birthday is shared with the largest attack on Continental American soil? If I say December 7th, how many of my readers know what happened that day?
All the same my prayers are joyous and reserved. Much the same way I felt the day this happened. I walked into Mrs. Perkin’s classroom to see the TV reports and a girl crying in a desk near the door. Mrs. Perkins had her mouth covered and her glasses off (tall tell signs of disbelief.) My first thought as I watched the plane smash into the towers was my Father. Not his birthday, not his celebration that night at home, but rather where he was going. I grew up conditioned to watch CNN more for knowing where my dad would be next week than what was news. It was my travel guide.
So Dad, Happy Birthday. I will not include the exclamitory mark here out of respect for those in mourning still. I hope my kids never assosciate your birthday with this point in history.
