Six Years

The sixth anniversary of 9/11 (so far today, and I hope it stays that way) has no greater significance than previous ones besides another year of administrative ineptitude in the White House and the cumulative impact of a continued ineffective response to the events of that day. Since there has been absolutely no progress since that day, it's a reminder that the opposite of progressives are conservatives but regressives.

My personal memories of that day are etched in the experience of standing in line at the Oakland Airport to take a group of donors to Oaxaca. The announcement of the FAA shutting down all flights came seconds before my section was announced. Watching the events in the airport bar on TV with other travelers made it less isolating until suddenly the airport cleared and I was one of the last passengers there, certain that there was no chance I'd be able to fly the next day but booking my ticket just in case. I had the misfortune of riding back to offsite parking with my suitcase of still perfectly clean clothes with an Airforce reservist from Fairfield who ranted about "We knew this was coming! We knew this was coming! I'm gonna go get 'em!"

I spent the night at the apartment of a guy I was dating at the time (neurotically depressed, unemployed and personalizing the events with "This is one more thing I'll have to deal with now!") With his bedroom window in the shadows of Twin Peaks, we heard helicopters hovering all night long, a phenomenon I'd never seen before or since in San Francisco and have never heard explained.

These memories have not enough distance for comfort and come back to me today as I prepare for an event in Marin and acknowledge my still resident anxiety of crossing the landmark Golden Gate Bridge, especially on a landmark day.