Today is September 11

Never forget — the title of someone else’s blog post for today. So many things we must never forget: the American Revolution, the Civil War, Pearl Harbor, the Holocaust, the assassinations of JFK and MLK, Jr. Now 9/11. Must we spend our lives remembering atrocities?

I remember September 11, though I was not in New York City or Washington, DC. I remember the terrible sights of that day. I also remember the fear, and the anger, and the awful sensation that the world had been tipped upside down and the future was unknown. I remember another thing, I remember the feeling of patriotism and of drawing together as a people. Somehow, in that terrible day, there was a feeling that we were in it together and it would be alright.

Somewhere along the way, that feeling of patriotism and solidarity got twisted with a desire for revenge and the positive feelings slipped away into a swamp of fear and war-mongering.

We never will forget, but our children will. Even though we tell them to remember, how can they remember something that never happened?

If we only remember the atrocities, how can we find peace? Where is peace in this violent world?

Many religions preach peace, but they have not succeeded in bringing peace to the world. How can we reconcile our need to remember and honor the dead with peace?

Friday Feature: Gray and Yellow

I have been rereading The Trumpet of the Swan by E. B. White lately. I was struck by his description of the cygnet, a baby swan.

{The swan is waiting for her eggs to hatch.}
Late in the afternoon, the swan was rewarded for her patience. She gazed down, and there, pushing her feathers aside, came a tiny head — the first baby, the first cygnet. It was soft and downy. Unlike its parents, it was gray. Its feet and legs were the color of mustard. Its eyes were bright. … It was glad to breathe the air, after being cooped up so long inside an egg.

I was inspired by this passage to create a treasury in the colors of the cygnet.

‘Gray and Yellow Cygnet’ by lizbethsgarden

A treasury inspired by the description of the cygnets (baby swans) in The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White.


Rooster Pillow Butt…

$29.00

Gun Metal and Yello…

$26.00

Distressed Tea Stai…

$5.60

Diaper wipes/Flanne…

$10.00

Blank Diecut Bookma…

$4.95

Yellow Geometric Be…

$22.00

Yellow tagua eco ea…

$18.00

Crochet Fingerless …

$25.00

Spiderweb Agate Cro…

$35.00

Gray and yellow pil…

$54.00

Chainmaille earring…

$15.00

Dreamy Misty Earl G…

$54.85

Partly Sunny gray a…

$7.00

Lady Gray–Handmade…

$5.98

Felt Zippered Pouch…

$16.00

Yellow cat eye cube…

$9.50

Treasury tool by Red Row Studio.

A different way to sell poetry

Yesterday, I found an article about a man who used to sell his poetry door-to-door and on street corners. He made his living this way for nine years, 1966 to 1975. The first 2 years were in Berkeley, California, where he sold door-to-door. The subsequent seven years were in New York City, where he vended on street corners.

I think this is a very interesting approach to the problem of being noticed as a writer. I don’t know, however, if this is a viable way to make a living today. What do you think? Could someone make a living this way today? Would it only work in a big city? Tell me in the comments.

Ten Years Later: September 11

Today has been wrenching. A plunge back into the memories of the horror of ten years ago. I think the media build-up helped, made it not quite such a shock to be suddenly confronted with the memories.

I know that people in and near New York City, Washington, DC, and Shanksville, PA, deal with and face these memories on a regular basis. But for those of us far away from the sites of the attacks, they are something we can forget about most days, the kind of nagging pain you can ignore.

On this day of sadness, I find that I really don’t have anything new to say, no blinding insight. I leave you with a quote I wrote 4 years ago, for a Veteran’s Day newspaper column:

For me, that naivety shattered on September 11, 2001. The world would never be the same for me again, for history had restarted (if it had ever really stopped) and the warm bubble of affluence and safety had popped. The real world was back, and it was much less safe.

Originally published in the (Idaho Falls) Post Register on November 18, 2007.

 

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