Hal O'Brien

9/11/2002 -- the first anniversary, with some interesting images to remember.

9/11/2003 -- the other 9/11, with the killing of Swedish Foreign Minister Anna Lindh. I've written more recent memories about Anna.

9/11/2004 -- the first year I posted this:

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eleanor lost a piece of her sky, and will never again hear thunderstorms with the joy she once had. Today I honor Ellie, and offer what comfort I may.

A chain of events began that would allow the Administration to rationalize sending pecunium to Iraq, to return damaged enough to require months of hospitalization (in- and out- patient). Today I honor my brother Terry (regardless of genetics), courageous, loyal, and true.

These are the stories I know. I know, too well, that there are others. As someone who lost a father when he was seven, it's the children left behind for whom I grieve the most.

Salaam.
Shalom.
Aloha.
Peace...

...be upon our brothers and sisters, our friends and lovers, our fathers, our mothers, our children, this day.

Let's face it -- unless you knew someone directly involved, the coverage was pretty much too much if you live west of the Appalachians. Not because we don't care, but because we weren't there, if you see.

Still.

The two images that will stick with me:

* A picture in the New York Times. Grand Central Station's main concourse. And all the hundreds of people are standing stock still, at 8:46am, for the Moment of Silence. It was particularly moving, for me, because a big imprint on my mind of that station are the time lapse sequences from the IMAX film Chronos.

* London. St. Paul's Cathedral. A memorial service, with Mr. Blair, a number of royals, and 600 family, friends, and glitteratti... After all, Great Britain lost 66 people in the WTC, too. And what they did was... They released 3000 rose petals from the Whispering Gallery, that rings the dome. Down they flutter. Each one representing someone who died that day. A pointillist waterfall, as they catch the beams of sunlight from the windows above. And the families of the survivors, at the end of the service, came forward and picked up a petal. You could see them, pressing each one into their programs.