9/11

I've probably said enough about 9/11 over the years. Long story short: My first-ever visit to New York City was a few weeks after the attacks. There was still smoke rising from the bowels of the World Trade Center. The makeshift memorials -- on fences around the perimeter, in subway stations -- were still fresh and full of living pain. 

Also: The city was still, unmistakably alive and vibrant.

I drove across country to get to New York that week, stopping in Shanksville along the way. It was the first time I'd driven so far by myself. I realized how big this country is. And how much New York differed from the world I'd grown up in. And I loved it. 

9/11 made me back away from the pacifism I'd grown up with, and in retrospect I think I was wrong to make that choice. The wars that grew out of the attacks have not created much safety, but they have increased the total amount of misery in the world. What a shame.

Time passes faster than you think. I was still young when 9/11 happened. I'm not now. That day is history. Before too long, it'll be ancient history. But it still feels like current events to me. Except for this part: Between 9/11, the Great Recession and now, this is the third time in my adult life where I've wondered if the world is coming to an end.

One of these days, I might be right.