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Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001
We have been visited by the angel of death.

I want to remember this day, as I know my parents remember Pearl Harbor.

I'd like to try to forget why I am, to this minute, still upset with my 13 year old son for his indifference and need to watch teen television and beg for money from me as though there really isn't a problem in this country.

I'd like to put a steam vent under the local school officials who blithely kept my kids in school, even to the point of after school sports, when we sit in the largest concentrated military location in the world, this city of ours. Might as well paint a bullseye on my front lawn cause I'm the epicenter of a whole lotta military. And a whole lotta nukes, not that I think that a crashing plane would set them off (at least that's what they tell me, who the hell really knows?).

I'd like to apologize to my kids, and to everybody's kid, because we adults let them down. We did, just as surely as you please. We whined for less military spending, let Presidents cut the budgets, which downplayed our intelligence worldwide, and generally did a whole bunch of nothing to discourage the thinking of the radical community who just killed several thousand of my neighbors. And the kid's will pay, you can bet on it. Their world will not be what mine was.

I was so angry after the fourth plane went down that I would have cheerfully pulled any trigger you handed me if it had been pointed at someone resembling Bin Laden the terrorist. It's going to be a while before I get to the point of not wanting to be weapons officer on somebody's F-16 with a load of nukes.

I'm finding that my friends in NYC and DC are okay, as far as we can tell. What's specifically not okay is that these city natives have probably all lost friends. Especially my NY stock market pal.

This was our day in hell that has lurked unseen for so long. Godspeed our country, indeed, tonight.

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