I remember where I was that evening five years ago, too. While still at work, I phoned my wife and said after I got home I was going to drive down to the Publix and donate a check to the Red Cross. I wasn't yet comfortable with donating money over the 'net, and Publix is always fundraising for something or other, so I figured that would be the fastest way to assuage my pressing urge to Do Something.
So I got down there, and they didn't have anything set up, but they said they would by morning. Well, I'm here now, I said; can't I leave the check in your safe, and you can give it to the Red Cross tomorrow? The customer service clerk went to round up a manager to handle me, leaving me alone for a moment with the other clerk, an Arab (as I surmised later). He was feeling self-conscious, I guess, and thought I was glowering at him. He looked at me nervously and stammered about what a terrible day it was for "our country". I nodded, concluded my business and left.
I watched TV until around midnight, soaking up the endlessly replaying video clips, trying to glean something new from the guest experts and the on-the-spot reportage, marvelling once again at the ability of TV news to put together graphics and bumper montages out of events that have just happened. I went to bed, and the next morning awakened from a very pleasant dream. My consciousness reconstituted itself, my memory booted up, and a niagra of awfulness fell upon me anew.
Just like it was yesterday; damn right...
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