When I woke up this morning after my almost-twelve hours of sleep (and I am not kidding you), Mr. Moon asked if this was going to be a pancake morning. He'd been up for hours and so was hungry and I told him that yes, it would be a pancake morning. Eventually.
And so it was.
He went out to the freezer in the garage and got some venison sausage and I cooked some of that and made peach and pecan and banana and flax pancakes with buttermilk and an egg and I set the table outside with a blue and white checked cloth and we ate out there, the birds and squirrels and dogs around us and it is as beautiful a morning as I've ever seen and now my house smells of coffee and sausage and I think I like the way the sausage smells far more than I like to eat it, although it is very tasty.
While I cooked I turned on NPR and of course they are doing the tribute to 9/11 and I'm having a hard time with this. I even heard GW Bush and god knows I had hoped never to hear his voice again and he was reading a letter from Abraham Lincoln to the mother of a dead soldier or was it soldiers? and in it was the term, "glorious death on the battlefield" and I wanted to scream that there is no such thing, no, no, no there never has been and never will be. Death is not glorious on the battlefield, it is ugly and the opposite of glorious and I don't care what the battle is about and even Abraham Lincoln calling it glorious is a big fat lie.
Yes. We were attacked ten years ago but not by a country, but by madmen, and then we turned it into something even more horrible and with countless more deaths of Americans and of people in other countries who had nothing, nothing, NOTHING whatsoever to do with that day ten years ago and as this country grows ever more enamoured with the Christian right we seem to grow farther and farther away from the things Jesus said about turning the other cheek and blessed be the peacemakers and even Thou Shalt Not Kill which Jesus didn't say but it's in that good ol' book they're always quoting from.
Well, in my opinion the madmen won. Air travel is about as ridiculous these days as sticking your head in an electric oven and none of those rules is going to thwart a true madman if he is mad enough to suicide himself into a skyscraper. But we, oh we good citizens take off our shoes and submit to full body scans and pat downs and the giving up of our fingernail scissors and must put our liquids in tiny bottles and we do all of it because of fear. We live in a world where we think that if we follow the rules (dietary, exercise, stay-on-the-path, whatever) that we shall be safe and there is no safety because this is LIFE and it is fraught with the unexpected peril which generally comes from a part of the sky we'd forgotten to watch but we continue on making more rules to comfort our fears and more wars to show our strength and Power Of Rightness and Righteousness and FUCK IT!
No, I have not forgotten the heroes of 9/11 and no, I have not forgotten those who died. I am just saying that life is full of heroes who themselves do not even know they are heroes until called on upon by circumstance and that life is full of death and to make a cult out of either is wrong.
I have not forgotten, either, how beautiful it was that day of 9/11 but I refuse to call it the most beautiful, clear September day in memory. For me, that would be today or perhaps yesterday or maybe it will be tomorrow. And I have not forgotten how we so blindly followed another madman (GW Bush) into a war and to speak up against it was to be called unpatriotic, a supporter of the terrorist, someone who does not support our troops.
Well, in my life I have been called many things. Hippie, liberal, niggerlover, commie, etc. So what? So the fuck what?
I am not flying a flag today, I am not ripping the bandaid off the unhealed wound of what those madmen did and I am not glorifying our country because we were "attacked." I don't think we learned a damn thing from that horror except to be more afraid.
Well, that's the sermon on 9/11, 2011 from here at the Church of the Batshit Crazy in Lloyd, Florida. It's the anniversary of a terrible day of death and there was nothing and there is nothing glorious about it and nothing we can say would make it so and no uncountable number of dead in its name can do anything but increase blood spilled and horror shared and grief increased and families left bereft, whether their loved ones worked in the World Trade Center or in a field in Iraq.
I'm going to go wash the dishes. I am going to go work in the yard. I am going to be aware and thankful for this beautiful, clear, September day while the names of the dead are being said and to the families left behind I will send thoughts of peace, hopefully, some day, although I doubt there will ever be.
And please- can we keep the word "glorious" for describing that which truly is and not for bloody death, never for bloody death? No. I am sure we cannot. But some of us can wish that we could.