9 Sep 2011, 8:15am
weekend:
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  • In my napsack stash

  • This Weekend: Never Forget

    ***The Punk Monkey Giveaway is happening NOW!  Go ENTER***

    My friend, Ana, and I were chatting and she mentioned 9/11.  Was I going to do a post?  To be honest, I hadn’t even thought of it…but I should have.

    It’s the 10 year anniversary.  I’m a little boggled by this fact.  Ten years ago and I can still remember where I was at.  In bed, asleep.  My dad called, he lives there in NYC, he was very upset.  My mind was fuzzy and I kind of bumped into my dresser trying to steady myself, the phone to my ear, listening to some of the worst news America has heard in a while.  The rest of the day our radios were on. 

    (via CrowleyOnline)

    My emotions were high because my aunts, cousin, grandfather, father, and since passed, step-mom lived there.  And I had just returned from a month’s stay.  The Twin Towers was where I hung out.  Well, the Atrium to be exact.  I loved walking through Battery Park and then catching a bite to eat in the food court.  I was there only a couple months before the attack.

    (via CrowleyOnline)

    My step-mother had a friend who lost his life saving others on the fateful day.  His name was Steve.  Steve O.  Here is a poem she wrote in his honor.

    Tears In A Bottle (Sept. 11th)

    For my friend Steve O, who died saving others

    The candle of love was lit too late,

    and God put our tears in a bottle.

    If love for our fellows, were here to stay

    would the infinite tears we cried that day,

    quench the hot fires of hate?

    Twisted metal, jagged glass, photographs torn in two.

    Fathers, mothers, daughters and sons

    unborn children, we never knew.

    And God put our tears in a bottle.

    Infinite dreams, and shattered hope

    blown away on the wind, in billows of smoke.

    Hot searing anger, is born of pain.

    Unfathomed agony, shattered lives,

    A tombstone of mega tons.

    And God puts our tears in a bottle.

    Bea Smith-Simmons

    Copyright 2002 Bea Smith-Simmons

    Never forget.  It was at that point our nation banded together.  Religious views and politics aside.  We were united by the simple strand of humanity.  Suffering, traumatized, wounded humanity.  Then we forgot — again.

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