Five minutes before the first plane hit the first tower, I was wheeled into surgery, sedated.
By the time I came out from sedation, the second tower had already collapsed.
So 9/11 was never quite real for me. I mean, I understand that it happened; heck, I was actually in the World Trade Center several times, and have a very strong memory of standing at the base of one, looking up, and getting a really weird feeling of vertigo.
But whatever the change was to the national character that 9/11 caused, well, I never got that. I never decided that torture was really okay as long as it was done to other people. I never agreed that we didn’t need habeas corpus or the right to privacy. I never “got” why it was now necessary to give up the freedoms our Founding Father fought for, in exchange for security that turned out to be a chimera.
I’m the man without a 9/11. It left me feeling lonely and confused for many years.
One more thing: just to be clear, I am not anti-military. I have friends and family members who are or were in the military, all of whom served in Iraq. One, a career officer, left the Air Force as a result of her experiences there. And she was as gung-ho about the military as anyone I’ve ever known.
I’ve never understood why “supporting” the military was supposed to mean constantly shoving them back into disastrous war zones and regime change schemes without adequate supplies or planning. Why somehow it was “patriotic” to treat our men and women in uniform like the toy soldiers of some spoiled rich kid, determined to throw them into battle again and again until they were all used up – because, after all, he could always buy some more.
No, I never really “got” 9/11. But between you and me, I hope that even if I hadn’t been in surgery when it happened, I’d still feel the same way.