In Remembrance of My Birthday

We all felt the horror, the anger, the sadness, and the hatred
on that day, whether we watched it on the TV screen, heard it on
the radio, read it online, or watched it in person. We all felt
it. We all remember that day clearly, though it was years ago.
We all remember that there were no, nor are there, words to
describe the way we felt, the way we feel each time we think
about that bright sunny Tuesday morning, when Manhattan became a
cloud of smoke and tears. I turned 27 that morning.

I remember clearly waking up that morning begrudging having to
go to work, when all I really wanted to do was stay home, sleep,
play video games, and just cruise around on the internet,
anything but work. The last thing I wanted to do that day was
provide technical support to some one who couldn't get online or
get their email.

I walked into the living room, heading straight to the computer,
ready to get online to check my morning email. I happened to
glance
at the TV which was on, and all I saw was a cloud of smoke and
dust covering the Manhattan skyline. Something was different.
I could not put my finger on it, and then I saw the replays.
The
planes crashing into the towers, balls of fire erupting through
the buildings, close-ups of doomed souls hanging from the
shattered windows plummeting to their deaths so they wouldn't
burn alive, then the towers falling like felled giants in a
faerie tale crushing all those beneath them, and the screams of
the onlookers. I saw the smoky wastelands of the Manhattan
streets and people covered in blood and dust, shocked joggers
running through the darkness, unaware of their surroundings. I
saw the after effects of a bombing and the beginning of war. I
watched these scenes replayed again and again throughout that
day, each time the tears dripped down my cheeks, fear flowed
through my veins, anger burned my cheeks, and hatred glowed in
my eyes. I sat in silence in front of the TV all that day, just
like millions of people worldwide. We all felt the same.

Now a few years have passed since that horrible day, and each
year the wounds and the feelings come spilling to the surface as
these same images are replayed again. My heart still breaks for
those 3000 plus families and friends who lost their loved ones
that day and those who were forever maimed, physically and
emotionally, but mostly my feelings have altered some since
then. Oh I still feel the fear, the anger and the hatred, but
in different ways. I fear for those who come home from two
foreign wars dead, missing limbs, and shattered minds. I feel
anger at the greedy politicians wrapping themselves in the flag
of fear known as 9/11 as justification for their illicit war.
The hatred is for the societies and environments that permit
such madness, such disregard for life, such extreme religious
fervour to breed and to bloom to create armies ready to die for
their god, spreading death and tears in the place of love and
forgiveness.

A violent war on terror will never destroy it, terror breeds
terror, death begets death. It only becomes a constant war of
revenge and reprisals. One can only search to apprehend those
involved in such heinous acts and yet at the same time seek to
heal the wounds that cause such anger and hatred, tear down the
stagnate environments of hopelessness and betrayal, and rebuild
with hope and eyes to the future for all mankind.

Now every year, I do not drink to celebrate my birthday. I
drink to remember those who died that day, to those who lost
some one, and to all of us who are forever scarred by what we
saw or heard, be it by TV, radio, internet, or in person. I
also drink to those who have gone to fight in wars of greed
justified by politicians lining their pockets while invoking
9/11. I drink to those of us back home whether it is in
America, the Middle East, Europe, Asia or elsewhere. I drink
for the future of all humanity, for peace and prosperity. I
drink in loving remembrance of my birthday. Slainte!


Nathan Tompkins