When I was a kid, Sept. 11 was one of the two most important days of the year. Christmas was when Santa Claus showed up, but Sept. 11 was my birthday and my mom always made sure that it was special. To this day, I can remember the G.I. Joe, G.I. Joe car and G.I. headquarters that I got when I turned five.
As I grew older, I still looked forward to the day. I've always been a big kid, and to be honest, I would really kind of like to stay that way. Kids don't have any worries.
Then came 2001.
The date is still the anniversary of my birth, but it will never be the same as it once was. I would love to have my birthday back, that same sense of wonder, that same sense of expectation. But how can I say that? How can I be so incredibly selfish over a birthday, when thousands of others lost so much more than I did that day?
This being the tenth anniverary of the attacks, coverage of that day has been virtually wall to wall for a few days now. Today, I've been nothing short of depressed. I wanted to maybe clear my head a little bit, so I went for a walk at the park. When I got back, Jeanie handed me some note cards that Jesse had drawn for a 9/11 project he's doing at school.
One of them caught my attention like a sledge hammer between the eyes. As far as I can tell, it's his own concept, not copied from any other source.
Here it is ...
Thank you, Jesse. Once again, you've given your dad a lift just when he needed it the most.