Tonight, I did the same thing I did last year on this day: I stood in the dark and listened to Mary Fahl’s “The Dawning Of The Day”, and I cried for people I never knew.
I hate jingoism, and I hate the way that so many people have used September 11th as a springboard for their own xenophobia, hatred and fear. But I refuse to allow their venality and stupidity to cloud my memory of that day, when I woke up and watched the world change forever. And I refuse to let them dishonor the memory of the dead — those who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and those who went willingly into that place to save those who could not save themselves. I did not know anyone who died on September 11th, 2001, but I still believe it is right to mourn them and to feel pride in them, and in the way that our country — even if only for a very little while — forgot our differences to honor them.
This is the song I listened to.
Then I called my men to follow me
knowing well that the view was dim
Though tired and worn, how they fought all morn’
as time was closing in
And my heart was sad though sore with pride
for brave lads all were they
As the angels fly, how they climbed so high
on the dawning of the day