Five years

Five years ago today I was taking a test in my 8:05 Intro to Mass Communications class in Waters Hall. I was a freshman in college. I took the test and since I got out early, Nicole and I went to the Union to get breakfast and saw everyone crowded around TVs. I saw some Collegian reporters starting to arrive, asking questions. I went back to my dorm only to return immediately to the newsroom to spend the day copy editing and helping with a timeline. I emailed my mom and told her it was "crazy" around here.

I watched TV for days. I cried about a week later while I was driving around listening to the radio. I didn't know anyone in New York and didn't even know anyone who knew someone affected by it directly.

Today, I am in Saint Louis for a business meeting. I flew this morning, at a time five years ago when the towers were collasping, and the only notable changes were I had to take off my shoes, there are more cops, and I had to throw away my lip gloss. I was nervous before I flew but only because it was the anniversary. I have flown on dozens of planes in the last five years and never flinched. I can't really remember anymore what it was like when "9/11" wasn't a buzz word, and CNN actually reported on news that wasn't related to terrorism.

It's my generation's unifying event. But yes, I am sick of hearing about it. I am sick of the war. I am sick of reading "how we have changed" articles. I am sick of politicans fighting about the memorial. I am sick of it.

But that doesn't mean when I read the NY Times "Portraits of Grief" updates this morning that I didn't cry while sitting in the back of an airplane.