Thanks, everyone, for your vociferous concern that I have become a hippie dolt who traipses among drum circles and takes doors off their hinges because "doors divide us, bro!" I did leave my door open that one time, just because anyone who wandered in would be confronted by several dozen boxes of godknowswhat strewn everywhere. If anything, I would hope that person could take a moment to rummage through them and help me find all the pegs for my goddamn bookcases, which the movers helpfully *cough* dismantled while I was out switching trucks.
Believe me: When it comes to home security, I'm still as shut-down as an arthritic oyster. This town ain't shucked me yet.
Of course, I could still go on and on about the 5K my kid wants to run, or how I ride my bike to work every day and just joined a beautiful gym for $220/year. But I've seen this movie before, and we're still in the first act, before the charming Dutch Colonial at 112 Ocean Avenue whispers "GET OUT." A lot of this is just whistling past the graveyard, letting the honeymoon linger while I resist thinking about how different my life has become, and how far in the rear-view mirror NYC already seems.
Speaking of which, I'm sort of happy to say that I spent most of Sunday blissfully unaware that it was the 10th anniversary of 9/11. After my bones stopped vibrating from the last-second mayhem at the Michigan/Notre Dame game, I spent most of the day out and around. And later, as I was writing a post about this ridiculously sudden crying jag I had while driving out here, it dawned on me that over the last decade I don't think I've ever cried over 9/11. Part of that may be because my family and close friends were mercifully spared, but I think most of it is because I went straight from shock, to fear, and to anger over the senseless waste that the human condition had inflicted upon itself. It was completely life-affirming to see people coming to each other's aid, in many cases without regard for their own lives, but utterly deflating that so much hatred had put us in the position in the first place.
And then it wasn't long before the goodwill wore off, to be replaced with bickering, postering, pig-ignorance, profiteering, and pointless wars that have inexorably helped lead us into the shithole we're in now.
The idea of all the networks competing for ratings by trying to pluck the right heartstrings sorta made me sick. I still remember it all, plain as yesterday, watching it all happen from my grimly perfect vantage point. I remember thousands of people helplessly wandering from hospital to hospital, perusing the makeshift message boards along the sidewalks. I remember the bitterly pungent smell of burning that lingered for months. I remember going back to work and watching from my office as truckloads of rubble were offloaded onto barges bound for Staten Island, and the baleful brightness of the hole in the skyline right outside my window. I may try to draw the shade on that window in my mind from time to time, but that hole will always be there.
I'll make you a deal, TV: I'll promise never to forget, if you finally stop telling me how to remember.