Sinister Twist

First thing this morning, I hung our flag outside on the front porch. Today is September 11. I wanted to honor those who died 8 years ago today and encourage other Americans to be vigilant in protecting America.

My son recalled one of his vocabulary words from yesterday, tribute, and used it properly in a sentence. (Good job, Kiddo!).

Then I hear about turning September 11 into a day of community service. Red flags go up in my mind and the urge to resist is unignorably strong. This government wants me honor those who died by painting murals? Cleaning up litter? Sending out emails reminding people to wash their hands?

Are you kidding me? That smacks of being a small cog in a utilitarian machine in some 1970s city in the USSR.

How about teaching my children what the safety forces endured that day instead. Not to mention teaching them what actually happened that day. Not the sterilized version. The facts I have riveted into my memory the day America's world changed.

I also remember Americans dropping everything and going to Washington DC, New York City and Shanksville, PA to volunteer to help. I remember all the firehouses in the metro area had firemen out collection cash in their boots. I remember more cars stopping to donate than I have ever seen before. I remember the looks on the faces of other drivers, somber, no sign of impatience, as they waited in long slow lines for their turn to give and to get through the traffic light. And a few days later I remember hearing stories about what happened on flight 93, and how exceptional Americans acted in crisis.

That is the American spirit we remember today and we pass along to our children. Not resentfully fulfilling civic requirements to avoid persecution. Rather, indiviuals acting of their own volition. Exercising freedom. It is becomming a lost art.