It was just another Tuesday, and I was just another 15-year-old sophomore in high school.
My mind had little regard for anything except girls, sports, what I’d eat for lunch and how I’d get through math class.
I didn’t have a cell phone or a driver’s license.
I was nowhere near New York City or the World Trade Center.
Terrorism was just a word.
I’m 32 now. Things are different.
I know you might skim this story on your cell phone. I know you might be too young to remember what happened.
Maybe you weren’t even born.
Maybe all you know about Sept. 11, 2001, came from what you’ve seen on social media or heard in history class.
My friend wrote a column about Sept. 11 last week, in which she made a wonderful point about what I remember most from the the day’s aftermath. I’ve thought about you since I read it. I thought about you again this morning, when I saw an Instagram post from a history teacher who had students interview someone who has a clear memory of what happened 17 years ago today to help them see a different picture of one of America’s most disasterous days.
There are some things about the South which are strange to people who aren’t accustomed to them. I’ve noticed this on occasion through the years. One such occasion happened some time ago, when I returned to work after a short trip to Rite Aid. Continue reading “Peanuts and a bottle”
It was the first time I’d darkened the door of the mall in a while. I’d planned to people watch, because it’s just about the only thing suitable to do in a mall while you patiently wait for a woman to finish shopping, but something was off. Continue reading “Musings from the mall”