21 Years

 September 11, 2022

It’s hard to believe it’s been 21 years. I remember where I was when I heard Kennedy was shot, and where I was when the towers came down. We watched the news replays over and over, somehow believing that if we willed it hard enough, the ending would change. We stood shoulder to shoulder for those few weeks, but gradually returned to fighting amongst ourselves once more. I wonder what we’ve learned.

Not having been there myself, I never feel I have words adequate for this day. What could I possible add to all that has been said over the past 21 years? Seven of my nine grandchildren hadn’t been born when we were attacked, and our two eldest were both pre-schoolers. Now, two have graduated college, one is married, two are in college, and two more will be next year. They will never know the unity we felt that day. I wish we as a nation were more willing to work together for common goals, but listening to mainstream media, one would think we have none, and that America is the most racist, destructive, and oppressive country on earth. 

Yesterday, our village hosted our 23rd annual History Days. Vendors set up their booths on the village commons (notice that word) the day before, and the celebration kicked off in front of the village museum with a prayer and those in attendance singing the National Anthem, followed by a parade of fire trucks, tractors, floats, classic cars and motorcycles, and ending with fireworks. It is occasions like this that give me hope that all is not lost in this great country of ours, and when the shenanigans of state and national politics gets too much for me, I remember days like this and my faith in Christ that reminds me that God is in control, did just fine before there ever was a United States, and will continue to do so long after we’re gone. To many, it sounds corny, but I’ll still say it: “God bless the USA!”