Sunday, September 11, 2011


I was going to post something else today, but then I saw the date. How could I dare to post something silly today, of all days?

My kids have been asking me about 9/11—where I was, what it was like, etc. We’ve been trying to explain to them how it changed the world, but they don’t remember much different, so it’s hard. When I was a teenager, I got sort of tired of all the people at church and in General Conference talking about how we were supposed to be such a strong generation, saved for the difficult last days. I didn’t feel particularly strong. Now that my children are growing up in this crazy world, I see why people say those kinds of things: It’s soothing to those of us who love them. I HAVE to believe my kids are strong (meaning, have strong stomachs and unquenchable hope) in order to sleep at night. There’s got to be a way (hasn’t there?) to remain sane in a world like this.

I kept thinking about how our parents used to describe where they were when they heard about Kennedy being shot, and then I thought about World War II and the Holocaust, and Lincoln being shot, and I realized that evil is not new; upheaval of society is not new. The answer is always to insist on believing in man’s ability to choose, even in the face of the unimaginable—and then choosing myself to get dressed, put on makeup, go out into the world and dance in the face of everything.

(But you can’t make me shave my legs if I’m planning on wearing pants. I’m just saying.)

So anyway, I don’t have anything profound to say about 9/11. Just that even though it happened I am still glad to have had a chance to have lived on this earth, and I’m still making plans for a relatively normal life. Yeah, I’m trying to live frugally and get out of debt and be wise, but I am not stockpiling guns and gold and TVP in my basement. So take that, terrorists. You gave a lot of pain to a lot of people, but for average Joe and Josephine like myself, you have not destroyed faith in humanity.

1 comment:

Kathleen Dalton-Woodbury said...

Surely I'm not old enough to be your parent, Darlene, but I remember what I was doing when I heard about Kennedy being shot. I was in elementary school, working in the cafeteria, and the custodian came in and told the cooks (and, of course, I overheard). I remember watching the funeral on tv, too.

Wow! I didn't think I was THAT much older than you. :)