Still Angry

Six years have past and yet the memories of Sept. 11, 2001 remain vivid. Should it be any other way?

Most can recall the moment that they learned of the first plane crash. Someone happened to be listening to the radio or was watching TV and couldn't believe what they were hearing or seeing, so they called. I learned of the news that way. Turn on the TV, I was told, the radio is saying there is something going on in New York City. Then I became the eyes for the caller who was car bound and stuck in traffic. From the moment of that call to just minutes later when the second plane struck, I reported in a fashion of the first "accident", seeing the second plane hit, and the horror as realization hit that this was no accident at all.

That day was one of the longest I can ever remember living. As the minutes rolled past, the world seemed to spin off axis. The third hit was to the Pentagon, then the frantic announcements that at least two more planes were unaccounted for. The announcement that all flights were being grounded and those in the air were being ordered down immediately. The confused news of a fourth plane crash, followed by the relief that all other flights were accounted for and of no possible harm.

The following days brought uneasiness. Now the skies were empty except for military jets screaming across the sky. The unknown and what if's were terrifying. Most people talked over just in case emergency plans as the revelations of what happened and by whom and why was made known. The realization of how vulnerable, not only you are as one human being, but the enormity of the realization that the entire country is vulnerable, makes a person do one of two things, either become paralyzed by fear or very pissed.

Six years later I am still one of those who are angry. I am angry with no remorse for those who, under the guidance of a disillusioned rich kid grown a muck, have chosen the path of destruction to change the world all in the name of jihad. That this same lunatic still frequents our lives with his condescending words of wisdom only inflames my anger more. His appearance once more only serves to harden my heart and strengthen my support of anyone and any means taken to bring about the end of this son of Satan and his followers.

What also angers me is the wasted time I have spent trying to understand the enemy, for that is clearly what he is, because he made it so. After all this time I admit defeat. How anyone can sacrifice his own people (has he not created the cause for which his own people have died by the thousands in a chess game of global domination?), sully the name of his own religion (what blacker eye could one give to a religion, than by his own manipulations have it become synonymous with the most horrific kinds of death like be-headings and mass mutilation through bombings?), and use his endowed money (born of oil capitalism, which he himself claims is the downfall of all mankind) to seed destruction - all this is in exact contradiction to everything he spews as his beliefs - is beyond my capability to fathom. That is the only defeat I will give up in this life to him.

Out of anger will come good. Of that I have no doubt. What will come in time is change from complacency, diligence to a cause, and bridging world differences to bring global unity from, which was just a few short years ago, an unthinkable common source of inspiration.

As these things come about (and they are, without a doubt), it will be his turn to be angry.


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