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Fifteen years before. Now, fifteen years after. - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
Fifteen years before. Now, fifteen years after.
I dread this day's annual occurrence.  No remembrance is ever going to undo what was done, and in particular it's a day Hillary Clinton should just stay home and binge Netflixes, because between Benghazi occurring on it in 2012 and her OMGFAINT earlier today, it's nothing but bullshit baked into bad press for her.

I began my day today at the dog park- a fitting venue tied to my memory of where I was 15 years earlier.  Eleanor and Em were already out of the house on the morning of 11 September 2001 when our neighbor called and said to turn on the TV. Within minutes, as the one crash turned into two and then the collapse, I remember looking down at Tasha, our first and then-only dog, and whichever of the then-three cats were in the room, and saying You are so lucky you don't understand what is happening on that screen. Likewise, today's assembly of pups large and small didn't care about politics, or religious differences. They just wanted to play and slobber.

I was in this room (that's where the television was back then), 400 miles away from Ground Zero, as those events unfolded on this day in 2001, but do have memories intertwining the two most infamous days in US history:

I proposed to Eleanor on December 7, 1986.

We came to New York for the wedding of two friends and to see a Broadway show my sister had gotten us tickets for. The night before, we stayed in the city at what was then called the Vista International Hotel, between and below the Towers. I had overly romantical thoughts about popping the question from the heights of Windows on the World, but chose the late fall chill of that Sunday morning, out on Jones Beach. We didn't do the restaurant or the observation deck or any of that- although we did do some unauthorized exploring of the still-incomplete Winter Garden in the American Express building around the corner on Vesey Street.  We talked our way in past a sympathetic security guard and got to see the foliage before any ribbons had been cut.

Fifteen years later, the hotel came down, the American Express Tower was severely damaged, and the days of taking unauthorized tours of Manhattan buildings were gone forever.

I'm glad to see the Winter Garden lives on, though. Here's how it looked in 2007:


One of our favorite songs, which a friend reminded me of the other day, is by a singer-songwriter named Beth Neilsen Chapman. It begins with her remembering her childhood, and plants growing through cracks in a concrete playground-

Where there's a will, there's a way around anything

-and ends with her watching her own kid similarly at play, and says-

And I say a little prayer, there's always hope.

The name of, and key line from, that song is "Life Holds On, Given the Slightest Chance."  That's true even in the remembrances of today- maybe especially in them.

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liddle_oldman From: liddle_oldman Date: September 12th, 2016 04:52 pm (UTC) (Link)
Not to any point, but you proposed on my birthday. (Um, 32nd I think.)
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