Thursday, August 26, 2004
Never Far Beneath The Surface
On Tuesday I was driving Deb down the highway on our way to a weekly ultrasound. It was beautiful; perfect temperature, low humidity, crystal blue sky with no more clouds than needed for picturesque contrast.
She called it a “perfect day” more than once.
The sentiment, expressed as we floated down the road, open highway, blue sky and life unrolling ahead, brought to mind another perfect day. Stunning as the blue sky was, looking at it almost burst me into tears. September 11 may be nigh on three years past, but it remains just beneath the surface.
I have more than once, without triggering words, become sad seeing a day and a sky like that. Calling it a perfect day brought it on strong, as I was sure I had read an article titled “why did it have to be such a perfect day” in the weeks following 9/11.
Well, wrong title, same sentiment. It was, after all, not a perfect day. It was a perfect morning, at first. Funny how things jumble up. I assumed I was looking for a Peggy Noonan piece. Nope. Andrew Sullivan.
Some would like it not to be right there, lurking below the surface, rocks to those who would cruise to power or away from responsibility, memory hole mines to the perilously forgetful.
Not three years after That Day, how can the Presidency and aspirations to it not be about this war, the state of this world and time, what is to become of us and them; not what went before, not a theater of the Cold War, not theatrics in aid of former enemies. We go forward, but we don’t forget. We deal with the new world, striving to make it better, without dwelling in the past, striving to make that better than it truly was.