past is past

 Yeah, I was reminded today that 23 years ago, I didn't QUITE yet own the house I live in, I was still in the same office as I work in now. And that we all spent the day worried, freaked out, sad, and angry.

It's funny, though. I don't think about it in the same way as I did in past years. For one thing: teaching college does that. I realized this morning none of my students have memories of September 11th; they were either not born yet or the few slightly older ones I have were babies or children.

And I've hit the point of thinking about it sort of like I think about Pearl Harbor: it's something that happened, it was bad, it led us into doing things we should regret (interning Japanese-Americans; all the anti-Muslim hate when Islam is an enormous religion with lots of variation - my dad had some Muslim friends who were here because they liked the greater freedom here, and didn't like the leadership in their home country)

But of course other things came out. I could have lived more happily without learning of "the falling man" (as he came to be termed). And knowing some of the details of WHY they used DNA fingerprinting (kind of in its infancy then) to identify some remains. And just thinking about the people on the planes. I hate the thought of some folks last thoughts being ones of fear.

But I admit later events have changed my thinking.

Like 2020.

There were weeks when a Twin Towers'-worth of people were dying of COVID. I lost a cousin (I mentioned this before) where he died on a gurney in a hospital hallway because the hospital was already so overwhelmed. Lost a family friend because he caught it while getting leukemia treatment. Saw how little some folks in my region cared when they were asked to limit trips out or at least wear a mask, and later, to take vaccines for public health as well as to protect themselves. (And it makes me angrier* when I think of how I strove to shop for groceries only once every 10 or 14 days, and rationed the milk I could get, and ate lots of stuff out of cans, and did without what I REALLY wanted a lot. And was incredibly, incredibly alone, to the point of wondering if I wanted to even keep going)

 

(*I shouldn't be angry; I can only control my own behavior.)

I don't know. I guess you live long enough, you just see a lot of stuff, but between this and all the petty wars and COVID and the numerous school/house of worship/shopping center massacres - I feel like I've seen ENOUGH stuff, at least enough bad stuff. And I would very much like to see some GOOD stuff. 

Yes, getting the COVID vaccines available in a miraculously short time was good stuff. 

But as someone commented at Board Meeting tonight, how she remembered everyone coming together on September 12, 2001 - I realized - nothing has brought us together. COVID drove us further apart, all the craziness* surrounding the LAST transfer of power from one president to the next drove us farther apart.....and I wonder if we've passed a point as a people where we can agree on even important things. 

(*euphemizing, not saying what I really want to say)

And it makes me sad. 

I think of one of the KnitLit books where a woman who worked as a flight attendant was written about, with the footnote that she was on one of the planes (that was how we said it for years: "they were on one of the planes" and everyone knew what was meant). And how some folks found their way into knit shops right afterward, looking for the comfort of something tactile.

(And no: knitting's big resurgence didn't happen then; it had already started)

And I do worry now that knitting is going away again - dyers and factories closing down; magazines have largely folded; there are almost no new pattern books coming out. We're all too busy, I guess, or we're all too tired, or in people like me, COVID broke something in us - I make things far less now, and some days it's hard for me to even get myself to practice piano. I do admit more days now I have a feeling of "what's the point, really?'

And I remember in the after math of September 11, I cast on a new project, which ultimately became a scarf I gave my dad for Christmas that year - I made EVERYONE'S gifts that year, feeling like life was short and a good way to show people you love them is with something handmade.  

Maybe it still is. But I have fewer people now to make gifts for, and realized a few people I MIGHT don't seem to appreciate them. 

I don't know. Maybe some day I'll find the spark again. I keep hoping. But four years is a long time; I know I bounced back from the shock and sadness all those years ago much faster. Maybe 2020 did sour me on human nature in a way that 2001 did not.